Lycans/Lycanthropes
First Form
The Wolf
The first form appears as an enormous wolf with pointed ears and a thick mane around its neck. It stands on all fours and is about six feet tall, not exceeding 6½ feet.
Second Form
The Wolfman
The second form is a hybrid of human and wolf, similar to wolfmen. They do not grow taller than their human forms’ height and have remarkable strength and abilities, as if fully transformed. It allows rapid movement and, from a distance, still appears to be an ordinary man if others accidentally see it.
Final Form
The Beast
The third and most familiar form stands about 10 to 12 feet tall.
A key detail about any Lycanthrope is their eyes.
Regardless of form, the eyes are vital because they distinguish them from Werewolves. Lycans are far more complex than I can fit into this section. Everything about them is fascinating, and how they operate is magnificent.
-Read the Book for more in-depth detail on this section.
Author’s Note: On Separating Breeds
What Makes It Important
I chose to separate breeds because folklore was never meant to be singular.
Legends don’t come from a single source—they rise from soil, climate, fear, belief, religion, and history. A creature born in one region was shaped by the land it hunted on, the people who feared it, and the era that tried to explain it. When those distinctions are flattened into one interchangeable myth, the creature loses its truth. It becomes a costume instead of a history.
By separating breeds, I wanted each lineage to remember where it came from.
Different origins create different instincts. Different rules change survival. Different transformations alter biology, psychology, and trauma. A creature forged by divine intervention should not behave like one born of curse or contagion. A lineage shaped by ritual and reverence should not mirror one shaped by punishment or fear. Treating them as the same would be convenient—but convenience is where lore goes to die.
This separation isn’t about taxonomy for the sake of complexity. It’s about consequence.
When breeds are distinct, actions matter. Training matters. Culture matters. A late transformation is no longer just delayed—it’s destabilizing. A hybrid is no longer a trope—it’s a fracture point. Power has a price, and heritage leaves scars. Every difference forces the characters to live with what they are, not what the story needs them to be in the moment.
Most importantly, this choice was an act of respect.
Respect for the myths that survived being rewritten by history. Respect for the monsters that were misunderstood, demonized, or romanticized into something unrecognizable. And respect for the idea that monsters, like people, are shaped by where they come from—and cannot be separated from it without losing themselves.
I didn’t want one creature wearing many names.
I wanted many truths allowed to exist at once.