Beastkin

The cursed fauna of Acarus - in the flesh

---

 

The foul Beastkin—both ancient and newborn—are one of the strangest and most cursed legacies of Acarus. They emerge only when magick flows freely, drawn forth from the dark undercurrents of the Weave whenever its boundaries weaken. Their presence is synonymous with the return of ruinous power.

  Long before the Comet’s passage and the resurgence of sorcery, the Beastkin lived only in legends. Nursery tales whispered of boar-monsters who devoured naughty children, crow-things who carried runaways into the sky, feeding them to their screeching hatchlings. What most took as myth were, in truth, veiled memories from the Age of Myth, when the boundaries between man and monster were once breached.   When the Comet tore through the heavens, magic surged across Acarus once more—and with it came the rebirth of the Beastkin. The mundane fauna of the world, scattered across forest and field, were caught in a pulse of raw, twisting magick. Corrupted and reshaped, they emerged from the wilds in semi-intelligent, humanoid forms, echoing the beasts from which they spawned.   Rats became the Tide-kin, anxious and prolific burrow-dwellers who hoard and multiply.   Goats birthed the Satyr, capricious and cruel hill-raiders.   Swine gave rise to the Pig-men, loathsome monsters of gluttony and sin.   No matter their form, Beastkin share one immutable trait: their nature is dictated by the instincts of their animal origin. It is not a question of morality, but of design. A Tide-kin is nervous and greedy because a rat is nervous and greedy. A pig-man is depraved because a swine’s desires magnified through human form become monstrous.   Some Beastkin attempt to transcend their instincts, to live beside Man—but instinct is not so easily ignored. Their behavior is not chosen; it is etched into their flesh and sinew, into the pull of their blood.   Not all Beastkin are evil, though many are feared. The origin species dictates the potential for hostility:   Prey-animal-derived Beastkin—such as rabbits, deer, or rodents—tend to be docile or even cooperative when accepted by human society.   Predatory or larger animals, however, often yield violent, cunning, or purely feral forms that pose dire threats to civilization.   Fish-born Beastkin and other aberrant breeds sit in the murky center—driven by instinctual behaviors they cannot fully suppress, not evil but other.   Some walk, some crawl, some swim—but they all bear the taint of magickal resurgence. They are not meant for this age, and yet, they are here.  

Roleplay Advice: Beastkin Characters

---

  Playing a Beastkin character means embodying a creature that stands at the ragged intersection of man and monster. These are not simply “animal-people”—they are magickally corrupted beings whose instincts have been grotesquely amplified by the twisting tides of arcane energy. They were not born; they were remade.   As such, a Beastkin character does not think or act like a human would. They may possess language, cunning, or even aspirations—but underneath all of that lies a deep, primal compulsion tied to the nature of their origin animal. Roleplaying a Beastkin should always involve a struggle—either against those instincts, or in resigned embrace of them.   Ask yourself: What was your creature's origin?

• Are you a rat-born Tide-kin, twitchy and hoarding, always planning escape or accumulation?

• Are you a Pig-man, pulled toward indulgence and cruelty, fighting to resist your hungers?

• Are you a Crow-kin, prone to theft, curiosity, and obsessive behavior?

  These traits do not make you evil—but they do shape you. A Beastkin who pretends otherwise is either in denial, or trying desperately to pass in a world that will never fully accept them.   Beastkin characters often live as outcasts or curiosities at best, and monsters or slaves at worst. Even in societies that permit their presence, they are typically watched, distrusted, or relegated to undesirable roles. This creates powerful narrative fuel—characters who crave legitimacy, safety, or even just a full belly, yet are constantly pushed toward the edge of society.   You may choose to play into these expectations:

• A violent renegade who revels in what they are.

• A predatory trickster playing a dangerous game.

• A tragically noble figure, striving against their instincts for a higher purpose.

  Either way, remember: a Beastkin character is never truly free of the animal. They are a walking heresy of nature and sorcery, a creature of instinct, memory, and lingering myth.   Play them not as humanoids with animal heads—but as animals cursed with too much mind.  

Physical Features

---

  The Beastkin are grotesque echoes of the animal kingdom—creatures twisted into humanoid form by the reawakening of magick. Their appearance is as varied as the beasts from which they hail, but all share the unmistakable signs of magickal corruption: unnatural posture, asymmetry, and a mingling of feral and human traits that unsettles even the most tolerant viewer.   Each variety of Beastkin bears physiological features rooted in their progenitor species:   Tide-kin (rat-derived) are hunched, narrow-eyed, and covered in coarse, patchy fur. Their hands are dexterous but clawed, their teeth yellow and chattering. Whiskers twitch constantly, and their scent is acrid and musky.   Pig-men are corpulent, heavyset, and brutish. They possess tusked snouts, small predatory eyes, and thick, blotchy skin. Their gait is lurching, their breath wheezing. The odor of filth and rot clings to them.   Satyr-kin (goat-derived) are wiry and agile, with backward-jointed legs, curling horns, and faint slits for pupils. They speak in lilting, mocking tones and their grins never quite reach their eyes.   Crow-kin bear ragged black feathers, beady eyes, and hooked, keratinous beaks. Their heads twitch like birds, and their gaze lingers unnervingly long. Their arms are wings and hands both, depending on the strain.   Fish-kin are amphibious, with slick skin, wide mouths, and lidless, bulbous eyes. Their bodies are always moist, and their gills pulse visibly when agitated. Their speech is guttural and strange.   Regardless of subtype, all Beastkin have animalistic posture and movement. They slink, hop, lumber, or skitter. Their motions are uncanny, often too fast or too slow at the wrong times. Their voices may be comprehensible, but they rarely sound fully human—whether because of hissing, grunting, cackling, or growling undertones.   Clothing is rudimentary or stolen—scraps cobbled together with crude stitches, bone toggles, or scavenged metal. Some decorate themselves with fetishes made of twine, bone, or the bones of their prey. Jewelry and adornments may serve as territory markers, tribal rank, or as crude attempts to imitate human vanity.   While Beastkin are capable of mimicking humanoid behavior, they never quite pass. There is always something off in the proportions, the stillness, or the glint of hunger in the eye. They are creatures that should not be—and they wear that truth in every inch of their twisted form.