YCH collab with  rogueliger for  Krenthered !

The last one of the batch, keep your eyes open for more batches like these in the future, we had a lot of fun!

Here's an included background story written by  krethered

Redemption

A sharp hustle broke her meditation, the cracking of leaves revealing the arrival of someone nearby, her elven ears twitching towards the direction of the sound.  Melisse's skin shivered, striped fur raised as her attention focused on her surroundings. She raised her head for a moment, taking quick shallow breaths on the atmosphere around her, the powerful odour familiar to her. The time had come.
 
The figure stopped directly behind her, a thumping sound of stricken leaves and parted dirt signifying his message. No words would be spoken, the Druids of  Craignaihart had all been sworn to silence since time immemorial. And no words were needed, for she knew why the old man had come.
 
She pushed towards her padded feet, claws digging the dirt to steady her movement, her long feline tail parting grass and dust behind her as she rose quickly. It had been a long time she had paid attention to these features, decades since she afforded them more than a passing thought. That she did now was oddly fitting.
 
The man turned around and started moving back towards the grey forest without waiting. Melisse followed behind him, her quick movements almost silent, next to her guide's heavier footsteps. He did not look back or make any other motion, but Melisse did not worry. Even if her eyes lost him, her ears or nose would always guide her to him.
 
She was not always like this, a creature between worlds. Before her adulthood, she was a normal wild-elf, no more special than any of her people. This changed after her maternal curse took over. When she first transformed to a horrible ailuranthrope, a long time ago, before the Reformation that brought the fall of Kainurea, in the Bay of Daggers that is now called the Almera Desert.
 
Thus she became a terrible, ferocious lion-creature, stalking man and beast alike. It was not enough that the naïve woman had tasted innocent blood on that first day. The horrible accident had  to leave its mark on her, as she would never again regain her natural form.
 
She had long faced this curse, in vain. She tried to resist it in her youth, resorting to rituals and alchemy, even imprisoning herself in inescapable dungeons, such that the beast would be exhausted by the time dawn had found its way to the sky. Any such attempts would fail when she inevitably found herself in danger or lost, and the beast would take control. She'd survive, but not at a cost she was willing to accept.
 
As she grew older she tried to guide the beast to only attack those she wanted. Long meditation and potent magical items would allow her to partially rein in the terrible instinct, so that she could avoid harming those she did not wish to. But she had to release the feral monstrosity, and those that became its victims would suffer a terrible fate, one they rarely deserved.
 
In the last few decades following the death of Iratus, the Lycanthrope Sorcerer that was her only true friend,  she let go and gave control to the beast entirely,  giving no consideration to the victims of her wrath.  Her waking hours would be ones aimless wondering, survival itself an afterthought of fleeting lucidity.
 
It would be in this state that, fifteen years ago, she was confronted by the very man walking in front of her. He was younger back then, his head full of brown hair and his chin free of even the faintest trace of stubble.  She had no idea how he came to find her or why. What she would eventually find was that he was fully prepared. No sooner has she assumed her terrible form than the man answered with his own, a gigantic bear able to not only to stand against her, but in the end defeat her.
 
And so, after decades of unrestrained savagery, the beast was defeated. Weakened and terrified, it retreated deep within Melisse psyche, leaving her vulnerable and despondent. Subjected to a terror she never expected to feel again, she waited apprehensively for an end she had expected for too long. That was not her fate, however. A few tense moments passed, as the bear growled to the terrified werelion. Finally, both lion and bear became elf and man again.
 
Offering his hand, the powerful man guided Melisse towards a nearby cave, where he offered food and water. He was completely silent, not answering questions or asking questions of his own.
 
The next few days passed terribly slow. Having discarded civility for many years, Melisse struggled to come to terms with a diminished beast, her waking hours a mix of confusion and barely discerned hallucinations. But through the hard work of her silent companion, her sanity was restored by the end of their first week.
 
With her returned memories she recognised the tattoos of the man, a Druid of Craignaihart, and knew about their strange traditions. Her suspicion was confirmed with a nod to a simple question. With his guidance, she rose to her feet and explored the cave she was residing in. She saw ancient hieroglyphs, depicting beasts and men fighting in various periods of history. From the ancient men hunting to protect against the wild, to the terrible sports some decadent humans had resurrected from across the Shattering. These were not strange or interesting to her.
 
What was interesting was the depictions of man-beasts in many stories. She assumed them to be the druids of the circle, until one very particular image caught her attention. That of a man-beast who faced his beast, defeated it and then destroyed the creature, becoming a man in the process.
 
Melisse inquired about the story, and a few nods gave her a glimmer of hope for the first time in her long life. A way to defeat the Lycanthropic curse, and become a normal Elf again. Through a lot of effort, she convinced the man to offer his help. The druid left for a few days, and when he returned he carried a scroll with him, an offering from his circle. The Catharses, the Way of Cleansing.
 
The path was arduous and far from hopeful. Before she could even enact the ritual she would have to undertake  a journey of discovery. An adventure to prove that she was deserving as a sentient of the freedom the ritual provided.
 
She had to live five years into her natural form, where she had to steel her willpower and cleanse herself of weakness. To avoid harm to others and make amends to those hurt. To feel remorse and regret, pain and grief. Natural ailuranthropes, such as her, were at a disadvantage, as their sentient form carried feline traits that constantly reminded them of their true nature.
 
Five years into the from of the watcher,  close to elf but not far from beast, where she had to remain as free of emotions as possible. She would feel the dulled sense of the Beast, and pangs of guilt of man, but she had to stay in the middle of either of them. Her feline features enhanced, she had to constantly fight against the Beast that was becoming stronger the more she remained in this form.
 
And finally, she had to live five years into the form of the beast, in the wild forests of Craignaihart. There she had to let go of all human emotions, and attune herself to the nature of the curse that was haunting her, living as a feral lioness in the wilds, while not losing herself to animal within. The hardest challenges of all, as without her natural form, the beast much more powerful than all other forms.
 
The trial was unbearable, and at times felt downright impossible. But she persevered, she had emerged victorious. Once all these tests were passed, she returned to the old druid cave where it all started, and meditate for hundred hours and an hour. Her guide, the druid that offered her the scroll, arrived as promised, to take her to the final part of the ritual.
 
And yet, the toughest challenge lay ahead. The Dream, where she would dive deep in her soul, and confront the Beast. If she won, she could cast it out, and earn her freedom again. If not, the beast would take full control, and the druids would have to put her down.
 
The man took a sharp turn between a hedge, and as Melisse followed him, she found herself in what appeared to be a clearing deep inside the Forest. Five druids were waiting for them, spaced in a rough pentagram.
 
The man bade Melisse to stop. He nodded at her, showing his cloak, and making the motion to remove it. She nodded, and removed most of her clothes. From the edge of the circle a Dryad approached, offering her a set of druidic accessories and a wolf-cloak to be worn during the trial. With visibly shaking hands, Melisse wore the ancient equipment with hastily moves, and moved with barely contained anticipation in the center of the circle. There she kneeled in front of  a druid that appeared to be the most ancient, a grey-skinned white haired she-elf whose glance caused her to shiver.
 
The druids raised their hands in unison, their fingers tapping their staves in rhythmical motion, a their humming creating an eerie atmosphere. Melisse felt her brow grow heavy, her posture slumped and, before long, she collapsed to the floor.
 
Her eyes opened sharply at the sound of a wild growl. Rolling quickly to the opposite side, she tried to stand to her feet quickly, only to stumble for several moments as unfamiliar feet touched the ground. Her toes did not expand as she was used to, and no claws were extended to grasp the ground. She felt a powerful mass crash onto her, driving her again to the ground. She had gone so uncountably long with feral smell and hearing, that even her sharpened elven senses seemed dull.
 
She had no time to think about it. With no claws to rake at her attacker, she had to hope that a forceful kick would be enough to send the beast back. The beast's powerful jaw threated to reach her neck, and desperation gave her strength enough to throw the furious animal away.
 
Reaching for the spear in her side, she jumped to her feet successfully this time, and rushed to the wild animal, her failed attempt at growling reminding her that even if she won, she had a long way ahead to become normal.
 
It was a desperate manoeuvre, but even without the beast's traits she was still agile and cunning. She avoided the deft swings of the beast's paws, crossing its front area with a sudden slide. Reaching the side of the lioness, she stabbed the belly of the beast.
 
The howling told her all she needed to know. The lioness swiped vainly towards her direction, and then started to stumbling back. With another terrible howl, the beast collapsed on its feet and lay there, looking to the distance.
 
Meiel kept her distance, side stepping carefully  to examine the wounded creature. Her mouth clenched and her stomach churned. She looked at the creature, and it looked back at her. Though victorious, felt no exhilaration, experienced no triumph. The beast did not watch her with malice or hatred, but with fear, with a look that to her eyes somehow belied intelligence.
 
Against her better judgement, she approached the lioness, and kneeled by her muzzle. Reaching out, she stroke the striped fur, her hand feeling the quickened pace of a terrified heart. The creature was slowly fading.
 
She smiled bitterly at these final moments. Her experience as a lioness was not a terrible. Far from it, it had a purity that the other forms lacked. There were moments of freedom that she would never forget, and moments of pure joy as the lioness and the wolf roamed lands that no longer existed, howling together beneath the five moons, before they retreated to sleep somewhere close, next to each other.
 
But also recently, during her trials, the form of the lioness felt purer than any other form. To hunt, to survive, to thrive. That is what she wanted, and that is what she hunted for, untampered by sentient worries.
 
But these green feline eyes were looking back at her, clearly tainted by sentience. Her sentience. The lioness knew her time was coming to an end, and she was afraid. She did not want to go. Her attack, her ferocity, her resistance. It was self-preservation. It was always self-preservation. Against a world hunting her down. Against supposed friends, considering her a fiend. Against herself even, cursing her own existence.
 
The beast never tried to fight her back if the need was not dire. It was always willing to hear, as long as they could survive. Both of them. And as a part of her life proved, they could be taught to understand, they could be guided to sacrifice if they could protect something grander. It was she, the Elf Melisse, that did not understand. She did not want to teach or guide, but to control, with the hope that she could one day cast it out.
 
She was afraid of her too, but she acted out in ignorance and mistrust. It was *she* that needed to be controlled, before she could guide her other aspects to temperance.
 
But she did not scold herself. She finally understood. When she first turned, the pain and shock of the transformation were enough to cause panic to her, a panic that her beast translated as danger. The next morning her feral limbs and fur, combined with the blood soaking her, gave her little room to think. And a foul circle started, of an Elf trying to cast out a Beast that only wanted to protect her and lashed out in desperation.
 
The lioness raised a weak head, her form almost disappeared. Their verdant eyes crossed, mutual understanding offering peace to both of them. At its end, the Beast had been embraced by the entity it cared for the most, and it could pass with peace.
 
Or so it felt.
 
Melisse reached to the side of the lioness, and pulled the spear away, putting her hand on a bloodless wound.
 
"This is a vision, and I am its Master. I made a terrible mistake in ignorance, but I won't let it come to fruition. This is my reality, and it will do as I say! Do not go, Melisse, I need your strength and ferocity, to finish what Iratus and I dreamed off!"
 
The lioness howled once more, but this time the feral cry reverberated in the immaterial halls. Wound disappearing as quickly as it was made, the majestic animal stood on all fours,  pulled back on its rear legs, and jumped in front of Melisse, becoming one with the determined woman.
 
Melisse's eyes opened. Her ears atop her head twitched, and she felt her whiskers touch the ground. Putting two hands on the ground, she stood on her paws, and looked at the circle of druids, watching her in stilled silence. She rose her hands to the air, feeling the fresh air clearing her mind as it brushed on her fur. Standing to her side, head held high, was a ghostly stripped lioness, glowing green under the night sky.

The lioness raised her head towards the sky, and Melisse followed, her muzzle pulled into a fanged grin. They roared in unison towards the moons. Melisse felt free and joyful for an act that only days ago would bring a foreboding sense of guilt to her. Her tail lashed in excitement, and she made no effort to control it.
 
Her body felt, as always, powerful and unstoppable. But more than that, she felt the wind lightly touching the fur, the dirt beneath her pads, the subtle change of the environment in her whiskers, and the odour of the men and women around her.
 
The Beast was still there, of course, its instinct sharp and its presence radiating. But it was no longer alien or mindless, it was another part of her personality, as natural as her laughter or her dry wit, no longer something to be reviled.
 
The druids bowed their heads, and one by one turned around and started to retreat back to their forest. Only the old man stood, looking at the tall Lion-woman in front of him.
 
Melisse took a few steps in front, her movements even more graceful now that she had grown into her paws. She came within reach of the druid, and bowed deeply at him.
 
"I do not even know your name, but you saved me, my friend." she spoke with a melodic voice, only the rolling of her rr's displaying difference from her elven voice.
 
The druid half-smiled, and shook his head, his grey eyes reflecting the fires around the ritual site. He reached with a finger and poked her lightly at her forehead, nodding a few times. Returning his hand by his side, he dipped his head in respect, and turned to leave as well.
 
The ghostly lioness came by the Lionwoman's side. Melisse knelt besides her and they both looked into the distance, towards the path away from the forest.
 
No longer alone, she knew her adventures had just began.