The moon wants what it wants, but it can be denied. Most cannot do it entirely so instead our bodies rebel, and our minds with them. Tapping into some primordial bloodline or pact or long lost chapter of our collective history. What becomes of those who can rebel in such a fashion is not pretty, but it is certainly fascinating. However when this happens to those who have some talent for magic is even more fascinating, the primordial beasthood that takes ahold of them is mired by their mystical abilities, manifesting in wilder arrangements and arc-ing off of them haphazardly, but still retaining some element of intelligence enough to be able to deploy such abilities willingly. Instinct: To devour

• Lunge with alarming speed
• Wield what remnants of magic it can recall