Most of the time a lichenthrope is just a regular guy. Sometimes, however, he’s a crazed moss-covered killing machine bent on grisly (and often gristly) mayhem. The bite of such a fiend is a contagious thing, spreading its foul disease to any victim who survives. A lichenthrope in the throws of such transformation can remain in the state for up to four days, during which he’s a ravenous monstrosity, bereft of compassion and possessed of murderous compulsion.
Many afflicted peeps, not wishing to harm their friends, become hermits or recluses, retiring to the farther wildernesses of the land. Stan’s Rug has its share. So too do the boondockular caverns and chasms of the Knobby Rumple. Of course, not everyone is so benign. There are those who seek the change on purpose. First tracking a lichenthrope and then inciting it to bite, hoping to gain whatever freedoms and exhilarations a life of random mayhem may provide.
From The Whole Hole Volume 01: Keister Island