When first I was taken by the Change I was terrified, and furious, and most of all terrified of my fury. I hid my transformed self in a woodshed where I tore the bark from the lumber, bewailed my fate, and cursed the rest of the world. For a season thereafter I sought a means to control my affliction, purchasing ill-smelling nostrums from alchemists, mystic talismans from arcanists, and blessings from priests of gods, demigods, even daemons. To no avail. Despite all my would-be benefactors' assurances, the Change still came upon me when it would—and seemed, indeed, stronger every time.