Centehua

The Carved Jaguar

-and Centehua seized the fruit from the grasp of Mixatli, who's rough stone-toothed smile reflected no light as he smiled at her like a predator smiles at prey, and she bit deeply of it's flesh without hesitation. The stone pit chipped her teeth, but still she ate.

-Exerpt from Centehua and the Stone Okkaves, a popular Coacauhtli myth regularly played out on stages.

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Deep in the jungles of the Southern Continent, there are temples to gods, if you wish to call Empyreans that, who are... hungry. They were once fed constantly by the peoples of the Southern Continent, but now they can go quite a long time before seeing parishioners. A fact that they are not happy to consider.
The sacrifices that these Emypreans demanded shaped many of the societies of the Southern Continent, and it was only through great sacrifice and carefully made allies that this particular ring was removed through death or imprisonment. The latter of those two options still plague them, however. Those that refuse death or circumvent it tend to remain....active, despite their sealing.
On occasion, someone seeks out the ancient tombs of Empyreans, hoping to get some sort of knowledge or boon. A foolish hope, really. While some Empyreans seem to have a kind streak, giving aid was asked or at least trading something for it, the Sun-Feathered are not a ring with a reputation for that.
Centehua, however, thought the risk was worth it. Who can blame her, given the situation that she faced? As a young woman, her village was attacked by foreign invaders and she was forced to flee into the Deep Jungle to survive. No one knows for sure what happened to her, but legend holds that she found some ancient Empyrean locked away in its temple who performed its magic upon her.
When she emerged from the Jungle covered in the blood of her pursuers, nothing seemed to be different about her, other than a change of personality. She'd hardly be the first to come out from the Deep Jungle a different person, however. Where she had been a fairly well-behaved child, now she was forceful and irritable. She'd constantly meet anything she perceived as a challenge with harsh rebukes, both physical and verbal, and when she resorted to violence it took two or three people to pull her from her quarry.
Then she started to sleep during the day and only come out at night. Neighbors heard a yowling noise coming from her family's home, though it was just Centehua living there now and then... merciful silence. Then the smell of rot drifted from the house.
The villagers feared what they would find within, but still, they went to check the old home. The scent grew stronger as they approached until they pushed open the door, letting loose a stream of congealing blood.
The inside of the home looked like a charnel house, though without any organization. Bones and meat sat in piles everywhere. In the middle of the home sat a pile of armor; chest plates, greaves, and helmets, all rent asunder yet recognizable as that of a particularly foreign make. On top of this pile of armor sat Centehua, languid and once again covered in blood. Her features had twisted into something akin to a feline. Her legs had developed more joints, her fingers had sprouted claws, and a mouth full of fangs poked out from under blood-covered lips.
She sat up and looked at her former villagers, her pupils going wide like a cat spitting a bird in the garden and yet... she did not leap at them. It was clear that her abilities to kill were extensive and that the villagers stood no chance, but she simply watched them as they circled her. Nor did she answer them when they questioned her. 
Without warning, she gave a yowl of pain, born from someplace unknown, and pounced from her bloody throne, dodging past all of the villagers and out into the night. They did not pursue her.
This tale is passed down through generations across the Southern Continent, in many variations, but the name and the end are the same. A woman named Centehua flees into the uninhabited places after something changes her into a violent monster. A fact like that might make you consider if any of what I said was real, but while I don't often leave my office these days, I did frequent Tlacauhtli when I was a young man, and can say for certain that she's real.
I've seen her.

Ethnicity

Coacauhtli

Age

Several Centuries Old

Aligned Organization

The Sun-Feathered

Related Myths

• Centehua and the Stone Okkaves

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While her form is often described as being close to the idea of Therianthropy, none of the stories that are built around Centehua seem to involve any sort of spreading of the curse or power. Her Jaguar form, however, seems to be fairly impervious to harm in the long run, despite the amount of hunters that have claimed to have killed her.

The most recent report of the Jaguar Woman that I could find is about a decade old (she killed some woman in the middle of a town square, supposedly, and strung her up with a wire between buildings), but I highly doubt her legend would just end like that at this point. She's alive, and she's somewhere out there.
It's not uncommon for her to drop of the map like this for extended periods of time. I can only assume that she takes these opportunities to live within, or simply disappear into, the Deep Jungle. God only knows why, or where she goes within.