The Seven Curses of the Beastkin: A Study in Sin and Transformation

Exploring how corruption takes root — and how the Nether reshapes the soul.

The Nature of Corruption

Not all monsters are born. Some are made.

In the world of Etheria, all life flows from the Ether — the radiant current of creation that brings harmony and breathes life into the world. It is the force of order, beauty, and truth.

But where there is light, there is also shadow. Opposite the Ether lies the Nether — a dark, hungry current that consumes rather than creates. The Nether does not build, it breaks. It twists what was good until the reflection no longer resembles the original.

To dabble in the Nether is to invite that corrosion inward. To wield it, to draw from it, or to serve it is to surrender a piece of the soul each time. And those who yield too long, too willingly, find themselves changed.

They are called the Beastkin — men and women who once walked as ordinary people but whose vices opened them to the Nether’s slow undoing. Their souls were reshaped from within, their bodies following after, until they became half-human, half-beast.

Their curse is both visible and invisible. It begins in the heart long before it touches the flesh.

First Sightings: The Beastkin of Changing Tides

The Beastkin were first seen in Book Two: Changing Tides, when Finnean and his companions encounter two kinds — the Swinefolk and the Goatkin.

At first, they seem to be simple traitors: men and women who sold out their own kind to Moros, servant of the Nether. But as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that their betrayal wasn’t a single act of treachery — it was the final stage of a long descent.

The Swinefolk had grown addicted to comfort and excess. They wanted more — more wealth, more pleasure, more ease — until “more” was the only word that mattered. When faced with a choice between protecting their people or securing their indulgence, they chose themselves.

The Goatkin, by contrast, were obsessed with appearance and perfection. Their city gleamed, their streets were clean, their citizens elegant — but at a terrible cost. When the weak and the wounded no longer fit their image of beauty, they were cast out or sacrificed for the sake of “order.”

Both groups believed they were in control until the change became visible. The more they clung to the Nether’s promise, the more it reshaped them — until they could no longer hide what they’d become.

Halfway Between Human and Beast

In Changing Tides, the Beastkin are hybrids — still human enough to speak and reason, but animal enough to unsettle. Their eyes glint strangely. Their movements are unnatural. It’s as if the human and beast are locked in struggle beneath the skin.

And that raises a haunting question: If the transformation continues, what happens when the human finally loses?

Would they become true animals — pigs, goats, serpents, dragons — roaming Etheria with no memory of who they once were? Or worse, would they become something beyond either realm — beasts whose souls still scream within their forms?

No one knows. But the idea lingers like a shadow in the corners of every tale: that the forests and hills of Etheria may be filled with creatures who once bore human names.

The Seven Curses of the Beastkin

Each form of Beastkin is tied to one of the seven vices through which the Nether seeps into the soul. They are not punishments sent from above, but consequences drawn from within — the natural result of allowing darkness to define one’s identity.

The Gluttonous — The Swinefolk

Sin: Gluttony
Vice: Indulgence, excess, and appetite without restraint

The Swinefolk were once merchants and nobles, known for their banquets and riches. They believed that comfort was the reward of the wise — that the more they had, the more blessed they were.

But over time, their hunger turned hollow. They consumed not from need, but from fear — fear of scarcity, fear of loss, fear of being forgotten. The Ether withdrew, and the Nether crept in, feeding their cravings until it owned them.

Their bodies thickened, their faces broadened, their snouts lengthened. They ate more as they felt less.

Reflection: Gluttony is not simply eating too much — it’s the attempt to fill a spiritual emptiness with earthly things. The Swinefolk teach us that hunger without gratitude always ends in decay.

The Proud — The Wolfkin

Sin: Pride
Vice: Power, domination, and self-importance

Once great rulers, generals, and leaders, the Wolfkin believed they were chosen above all others. They valued strength and feared weakness, seeing compassion as frailty.

Their transformation began with the eyes — sharp, piercing, unyielding. Their voices became low and commanding. They began to prowl rather than walk. Packs formed under their rule, loyalty driven by fear rather than love.

Reflection: Pride begins as confidence and ends as blindness. The Wolfkin remind us that the desire to be worshiped will always cost us our humanity.

The Greedy — The Serpentkin

Sin: Greed
Vice: Possession, control, and deceit

The Serpentkin are those who see everything — and everyone — as something to own. Their greed was not limited to gold; it extended to people, secrets, and souls.

They slithered their way into power through charm and manipulation, speaking softly but striking swiftly. Over time, their words became venom, their gaze cold and calculating. Their skin grew pale, patterned, scaled.

Reflection: Greed is not the love of wealth — it’s the fear of not having enough. And fear, left unchallenged, will turn any heart to stone.

The Lustful — The Goatkin

Sin: Lust
Vice: Desire without love; obsession with beauty and possession

The Goatkin were once the artists and architects of Etheria’s highlands — singers, sculptors, and dreamers devoted to the pursuit of beauty. Their mountain cities gleamed with white stone and crystal towers that caught the sun like fire. But their love of beauty slowly turned inward. What began as creation became consumption.

They stopped seeing beauty as something to reverence and began to see it as something to own. They believed they could perfect it — preserve it — by purging anything that did not fit their standard of purity. Age, deformity, illness, poverty — all became eyesores to be hidden or erased. Their compassion faded as their mirrors multiplied.

The Nether did not need to tempt them with violence or greed; it only whispered, “You deserve what is lovely.”

Their transformation began in the gaze. Their eyes grew bright and glassy, reflecting rather than receiving light. Their features sharpened elegantly, almost flawlessly, but lost warmth. Their voices grew soft, melodic, alluring — hollow songs that promised delight but carried no soul.

In time, their beauty became unnatural, symmetrical to the point of unease. Their hearts burned with desire, but not for love — only for possession. And like all things consumed by lust, what they sought to keep they destroyed.

Reflection: Lust is desire detached from love — a hunger to possess what was meant to be cherished. The Goatkin remind us that beauty without compassion becomes corruption, and desire without selflessness becomes decay.

The Envious — The Vulturekin

Sin: Envy
Vice: Resentment, jealousy, and bitterness

The Vulturekin live on the edges of civilization, scavengers who feed on what others have built. Their envy devours them from within — the more they covet, the less they create.

Their feathers darken with each hateful thought. Their eyes become hollow, their voices shrill. They whisper against the fortunate, waiting for others to fall so they may feast on what remains.

Reflection: Envy poisons joy. It convinces us that we can only rise when others fall — and in that belief, we all descend together.

The Slothful — The Slothkin

Sin: Sloth
Vice: Apathy, neglect, and despair

The Slothkin are those who have stopped caring. Once builders and thinkers, they lost all will to act. Their sin is not laziness but resignation — a surrender of purpose.

They drift through life half-awake, their skin gray and cool, their movements painfully slow. The Nether loves stillness, and so it consumes them completely, until their hearts beat only out of habit.

Reflection: Sloth is not rest — it’s the death of hope. The Slothkin are reminders that doing nothing in the face of decay is still a choice.

The Wrathful — The Dragonkin

Sin: Wrath
Vice: Rage, vengeance, and destruction

The Dragonkin were once protectors — champions who stood against tyranny and injustice. Their hearts burned with courage and conviction, and their fire was pure. But in time, that fire turned inward.

When righteous anger loses mercy, it becomes something else — something hungrier. Justice becomes vengeance. Protection becomes control. The flame meant to defend begins to consume.

Those who give themselves over to wrath begin to change. Fire gathers in their throats; their breath scorches. Smoke bleeds from their eyes. Scales form like armor, and their hearts grow molten with fury.

They destroy the very things they once swore to protect, convinced all the while that they are saving them.

The Dragonkin are not born monsters — they are made in the heat of unrestrained fury. And though their scales gleam like glory, inside burns only ruin.

Reflection: Wrath often begins as love that has lost its grace. The Dragonkin remind us that without mercy, even the brightest flame becomes a weapon.

The Nether’s Power of Transformation

The Nether never takes all at once. It seduces slowly, taking shape according to the sin it finds most fertile. Each act of selfishness is a chisel mark; each indulgence, a spark. Over time, the human form bends toward the beast within.

Yet, the transformation is not purely physical. The Beastkin lose memory, compassion, and joy — not because they are taken from them, but because they cease to value them.

The Mystery of Redemption

Even in the darkness of Etheria, redemption is not impossible. The Ether still calls, even to those who have forgotten its song.

Some believe that when a Beastkin resists the Nether’s hunger — when they choose sacrifice, repentance, or love — the transformation halts, even reverses. Scales soften, claws dull, eyes regain light.

Few such stories are known, but those that exist carry the same truth: grace reaches further than corruption. The Ether never stops seeking what the Nether has stolen.

The Mirror of the Beast

The Beastkin are not villains of myth. They are warnings. Every choice draws us closer to the Ether or to the Nether. Every indulgence, every act of cruelty or neglect, leaves a mark.

They are reminders that evil rarely arrives as a monster — it begins as a compromise.

In Changing Tides, when Finnean and his companions face the Swinefolk and Goatkin, the lesson is clear: the darkness they fight is not only in others, but within themselves.

Because in Etheria — as in our world — not all monsters are born.
Some are made.