You see it first. Its tusks gleam in the light of the campfire, its massive head trained on your campleader. You fear, for a moment, that one of the locals has discovered you - it's precious seconds before you realize it's worse.

Your trapmaster tried to warn you. You remember her pleas, you remember her chains - there were ten locks on the cage, and she begged you to add more. No one wanted to trust a monster with her own chains, no one wanted to risk a monster getting out - but she was your only trapmaster, and few of you dared to use her tools.

Perhaps that, in the end, was your mistake.

You cry out a warning, but the beast hears it before your friends. You see its head snap up, its rust-red eyes trained on you. You see its muscles tense in preparation for an attack.

It leaps. Someone screams.

The night is bathed in blood.

More wereweevil Vi! One of a handful of artist's trading cards we're making for an event near us. Ko-fi is here, as usual.