It's time to do what needs to be done. You can't let the deaths of tonight be for nothing.

A chill runs through you, as you realize you need new clothes, and there's only one place you can get them. You lean down, unbutton Wyatt's jacket as you try not to look at the body. Slowly,

The underwear are soiled and the inside two layers of Wyatt's clothes are soaked with blood, but you manage to scavenge the boots, socks, pants and jacket, pulling them on. Once you've bundled yourself up in clothes, you raise your rifle to your shoulder and begin walking, leaving the corpse behind you. You don't have the time to bury it, and being around the corpse is only sending pangs of hunger through your body. You try not to shed a tear, heading off into the woods.

Your senses quickly detect the faint smell of smoke and coal, and you begin heading towards it. The beast within you is quiet for now from the stabbing, but thankfully the beast seems to almost be absorbing the pain, and it's little more than a dull ache to you now.

You walk in silence, and for a moment, it seems almost unnatural. Everything about you seems wrong now. You can tell you're walking loudly, almost falling and stumbling about. Your movements are as stealthy as ever thanks to your abilities as a hunter, but compared to your lupine form, it's clumsy. Your senses are dulled without the powers of the beast, your entire body weakening from exhaustion and blood loss.

Your eyes are still bright, and you find yourself staring through the darkness at a trio of werewolves prowling through the undergrowth. The creatures are streaked with gray and black fur, growling as they slowly move forward, muscles moving under furry hides, their teeth glowing in the moonlight.

They must be following your scent, and if they are, they have it now. The beast within you is quiet now, but the rage in your heart is burning. Time to do your duty as a Hunter.
> You climb a tree and snipe the werewolves
Your eyes scan the trees around you, as you pick one tall enough to escape up into and with thick enough branches that you can climb in. You jump into the air, your hands wrapping around a branch as you pull your body up on it. Your boots find another branch, as you quickly begin to scale the tree as quickly as you can. It's not long before you find a thick, stable branch high enough to take a shooting position in, protected by the cover of the leaves but with a clear sight on the werewolves.

You raise your rifle, shouldering it as you quickly take the target in your sights. You aim at the lead werewolf, targeting the creature's head. It takes a moment for you to aim, unused to Wyatt's hunting rifle and preferring the pure blast power of your shotgun, but you quickly adjust. You've used pretty much every weapon under the sun over the years, and a simple hunting rifle is in every Hunter's arsenal. You see the bright of the wolf's eyes glinting in the moonlight, and pull the trigger.

You find yourself staring at a second werewolf, one racing towards the tree. You aim your rifle as it leaps towards the tree, firing. The creature takes the shot to the side, crumpling to the ground, as you quickly reload and aim.

The tree shakes as a werewolf begins clambering up the branches behind you. You quickly put another round in the wounded werewolf, blowing out its heart and killing it instantly. You swivel around, before you find a werewolf clambering up the branches, its maw wide open as it snaps at your leg. You yelp, realizing the beast is upon you, mere seconds away from devouring you.
> You kick the bastard down
You lash out at the werewolf with your boot, knocking at its jaws with all your force. The creature's jaws widen, biting down on your foot as it screams, its jaws cutting into your ankle and tearing tearing it off in one bite. You scream, pain tearing through you as blood spurts out, and you find yourself losing your position on the branch.

You fall through the air, collapsing to the ground as you scream. You hit the ground with a thud, your back breaking as you scream, collapsing onto the ground. Your mind goes hazy, darkness beginning to take you as you hear the werewolf growl, leaping from branch to branch down to you.

You hope you pass out before the creature reaches the ground, and you.


Your eyes scan the trees around you, as you pick one tall enough to escape up into and with thick enough branches that you can climb in. You jump into the air, your hands wrapping around a branch as you pull your body up on it. Your boots find another branch, as you quickly begin to scale the tree as quickly as you can. It's not long before you find a thick, stable branch high enough to take a shooting position in, protected by the cover of the leaves but with a clear sight on the werewolves.

You raise your rifle, shouldering it as you quickly take the target in your sights. You aim at the lead werewolf, targeting the creature's head. It takes a moment for you to aim, unused to Wyatt's hunting rifle and preferring the pure blast power of your shotgun, but you quickly adjust. You've used pretty much every weapon under the sun over the years, and a simple hunting rifle is in every Hunter's arsenal. You see the bright of the wolf's eyes glinting in the moonlight, and pull the trigger.

You find yourself staring at a second werewolf, one racing towards the tree. You aim your rifle as it leaps towards the tree, firing. The creature takes the shot to the side, crumpling to the ground, as you quickly reload and aim.

The tree shakes as a werewolf begins clambering up the branches behind you. You quickly put another round in the wounded werewolf, blowing out its heart and killing it instantly. You swivel around, before you find a werewolf clambering up the branches, its maw wide open as it snaps at your leg. You yelp, realizing the beast is upon you, mere seconds away from devouring you.
> You leap to another tree
Bursting up, you push your boots against the branch as you stand for a second, before kicking off from the branches, leaping through the air towards the nearest tree. You fly through the air, hands reaching out for the next branch as you yell, only to find you're too far away and won't reach it.

You fall through the air, collapsing to the ground as you scream. You hit the ground with a thud, your back breaking as you scream, collapsing onto the ground. Your mind goes hazy, darkness beginning to take you as you hear the werewolf growl, leaping from branch to branch down to you.

You hope you pass out before the creature reaches the ground, and you.


Your eyes scan the trees around you, as you pick one tall enough to escape up into and with thick enough branches that you can climb in. You jump into the air, your hands wrapping around a branch as you pull your body up on it. Your boots find another branch, as you quickly begin to scale the tree as quickly as you can. It's not long before you find a thick, stable branch high enough to take a shooting position in, protected by the cover of the leaves but with a clear sight on the werewolves.

You raise your rifle, shouldering it as you quickly take the target in your sights. You aim at the lead werewolf, targeting the creature's head. It takes a moment for you to aim, unused to Wyatt's hunting rifle and preferring the pure blast power of your shotgun, but you quickly adjust. You've used pretty much every weapon under the sun over the years, and a simple hunting rifle is in every Hunter's arsenal. You see the bright of the wolf's eyes glinting in the moonlight, and pull the trigger.

You find yourself staring at a second werewolf, one racing towards the tree. You aim your rifle as it leaps towards the tree, firing. The creature takes the shot to the side, crumpling to the ground, as you quickly reload and aim.

The tree shakes as a werewolf begins clambering up the branches behind you. You quickly put another round in the wounded werewolf, blowing out its heart and killing it instantly. You swivel around, before you find a werewolf clambering up the branches, its maw wide open as it snaps at your leg. You yelp, realizing the beast is upon you, mere seconds away from devouring you.
> You fire with your rifle
You grab your rifle, loading back the bolt in an instant, before lowering your gun. The werewolf's jaw bites down on your ankle, tearing through leather as it bites into your flesh. You scream, but stay focused, jamming your gun barrel against the werewolf's head, before pulling the trigger. The gun bucks, a bullet bursting through the werewolf's skull. The creature collapses from the tree, it's bloody body collapsing to the ground with a thud.

You sigh, wiping the sweat from your brow, before checking your foot. It's cut, but other than that fine, and you should be able to walk, run, jump and everything else you'll need for the rest of night... and of course, you'll be able to climb down, which is quite helpful now.

You slowly move down the tree, checking the two bodies of the werewolves, now naked, pale corpses covered in their own blood. You don't shed a tear for them. Normal werewolves are creatures cursed by the beast, like you. These creatures have embraced the beast. Human form or lupine form, they're beasts all the same.

You look up towards the scent of the smoke, now a bare trace, but begin walking nonetheless.
> You continue towards the smell of smoke
You walk through the woods slowly, heading towards the scent. It draws nearer, the smell of smoke and coal becoming clear. It's a long, painful walk, and you find yourself scratching at your limbs, growling and shaking your head. The beast within is awakening again, as you run your tongue along your sharpened teeth, the taste of your own blood filling your own mouth. Your stomach growls, and the veil of darkness lifts as your supernatural eyes adjust to the darkness. Still, you focus on the burning pain in your chest and now, your stab wound, allowing the pain to consume you, bringing you just to the point where walking becomes impossible, all to stave off the wolf spirit howling to get out.

It's not long, however, before you find your way to the mines. The earth begins to widen, revealing a huge, cavernous maw sticking out of the earth, a huge hole in the ground leading to darkness. The opening of the mineshaft. A light plume of smoke billows out from the mineshaft, as you can smell the scent of fresh meat and blood down below, the smell of wolves prowling and... strangely enough, diesel drifting out with its stink.

You stare into the darkness, gun in your hands, as you prepare to go in.

"Going in?"

You turn your head, finding the patchwork fool standing in front of you. His eyes are still badly burned, although from this close, it seems more like its from a caustic chemical or animal venom rather than heat or fire. He grins at you, winking.

"I was planning to," you say. "Going to tell me who you are yet?"

"Maybe. Fancy another riddle?"

"What the fuck is it with you and riddles?"

"I like them," the Fool shrugs. "I used to be more of a pranks guy, but it's no use drawing attention to myself when I manage to get unbound, so riddles will have to do."

"Unbound? Are you a ghost? A trapped spirit? It would explain some things," you say quietly, not wanting to risk dealing with them.

"Nothing of the sort! I'm far more powerful," the Fool says. "I'd make the threat you're dealing with look like chump change, you know."

"Glad you're not my enemy, then," you say, before pausing. "Are you?"

"Of course not! Just a friendly visitor, curious to see what'll happen. I know a lot about werewolves. I remember watching the first one change. God, the terror he felt."

"You saw the first change?" you ask cautiously.

"I did indeed," the Fool smiles. "I saw when they chained up my dear old Fenrir, for nothing more than being scary. That's what they tend to do, you know," the Fool says, pointing to his eyes. "But, every so often, Fenrir would get just a bit lose, and some brave mortal would need to toss a new chain on him. One brave soul got too close, and Fenrir managed to bite him. That was the first of their kind. Now, they've spread throughout the world, all from that one mortal who felt it was fair to lock up a creature that had done nothing wrong. Cruel bastards the lot of them," the Fool mutters.

You pause, trying to discern whether this is the fool's insane ramblings, a metaphor, a literal truth or something else entirely. For as long as you stare at the grinning bastard, you can't tell.

"Anything else you wanted to tell me?" you say dismissively, not willing to play the Fool's games.

"Nothing to tell, but something to ask. Care for another riddle?"

"Fuck's sake," you mutter. "What the hell does this matter?"

The Fool smiles, before grinning.

"So! A lost shepard met two hunters, the first of who had three loaves and the second who had five loaves. All the loaves were the same size. The three men agreed to share the eight loaves equally between them. After they had eaten, the hunter gave the shepherds eight bronze coins as payment for his meal. How should the two shepherds fairly divide this money?"
> You nothing to the first hunter, give it all to the second
"You give all the pieces to the second hunter," you say.

"Yes, another answer! Gods, I really like you!"

"Is it right?"

The Fool shrugs, smiling at you.

"Who knows? I'll be off, anyway, my eyes are beginning to burn," he says, scratching at his burned up eyes. "Good luck in there. Shame it's not a silver mine, am I right?"

He smiles, grinning, as you snarl. He raises his hands defensively, shrugging.

"Fine, fine, I'll be on my way. Best of luck in there, Willy."

You don't even try to stop him, your gun feeling unnaturally heavy in your hands as you know the patchwork man's magic is at work here. As soon as the Fool disappears into the trees, your gun lightens in your hands, and you heave to stare off into the mineshaft, smiling.
> You head into the mineshaft
You stare down the cavernous maw that sticks out of the earth. The darkness almost solidifies around you, attempting to consume your sanity. You focus your senses, as when the suffocating darkness steals your sight, your smell and hearing amplify. You can hear the near silent wind blow through the tunnel, nostrils flaring as you take as you smell the scent of coal dust and dirt. The scents begin to shift, as you detect a new smell. Fresh blood and the smell of a wild beast traveling through the tunnel. The sound of paws creeping along iron mine tracks and soft dirt begins just detectable.

Your eyes narrow, as down the tunnel, a form cuts through the darkness. The creature's thin body is covered with a thick layer of white fur, a pair of red, blood-filled eyes becoming clear, shining in the dark. A maw of sharpened daggers becomes clear, as the Albino arrives.

You recognize the creature from earlier. The one who bit you. The one who cursed you like this. You snarl, your gun tightening in your hands. The Albino's eyes flicker and you wonder if it recognizes you. There's an intellect there beyond what you've seen, in animals, or even in other werewolves. The creature growls, and you know it recognizes you.

Your body shakes, the Albino's growl sending the beast into overdrive. Your hairy arms tense as your muscles bulge, your tongue flickering along your sharpened teeth. You let out a growl, eyes narrowing as you ready yourself to kill. You let out a loud roar which echoes down the tunnel, your fingernails toughening and sharpening to pre-transformation claws that dig into the wood of your rifle.
> You let out the beast within
You find yourself howling, your body transforming in a mere moment, incapable of holding off the change for any longer. The fur bursts from your skin as it toughens and tears, your body stretching in an instant. Your teeth, a mouthful of ivory blades, are revealed as you open your jaw. You smash into the Albino, tearing it through the air and smashing it off the tunnel wall. The creature bounces off the wall, before rolling to its feet and leaping forward with one pounce, lunging for you. You snarl, batting it aside with a pair of claws, slashing as its face at the creature pins you to the ground.

The other beast is strong, fast and deadly, the creature being far more used to its bestial body than you are. The creature wields its fangs like daggers, its claws like swords, its weight a crushing wrecking ball, every feature of it turned into a weapon of death and slaughter. However, it's no doubt transformed from poorer stock than you, once having been a normal human rather than a Hunter like yourself, who dedicated their life to the craft of hunting. By how you reckon, the Albino has the advantage, but you won't be going down without a fight.

You struggle against his grip, pinned against the stone, struggling to get out from it's weight, as its gnashing teeth comes towards your throat, its mouth caught in a fearsome howl.
> You get your legs under the beast and force it off
You roll your legs under the bulk of the Albino's weight, breathing heavily as you try to find your strength. You snarl, forcing your legs forwards as you force the creature back. You pause, building your strength for one moment, before using your legs to launch the beast at the wall.

The Albino is launched against the wall, knocking against the earthen mine wall as it collapses to the ground with a thud. The creature growls, standing up as it moves forward, raising its clawed hands as it attempts to ram you against the wall, catching you in the bestial version of a rugby scrum. You raise your arms, grabbing them and trying to keep it from biting out your throat in a rage, standing on your hindlegs as you're ready to retreat.
> You sTRENGTH! Ram it into the wall!
You double down, catching in the Albino in a deadly embrace, forcing it back. Your reflexes, your speed and your abilities are far outpaced by the creature, who has had far more time to get used to its body. However, strength might be something you have. You're a tough, hardy man and far stronger than the average man, so perhaps in your lupine form you'll the stronger of this pair.

You dig your hind legs in, ramming forward as you force the beast back. The Albino yelps, attempting to shove you aside, but you've caught it now, and you're able to twist it around as you launch it against the wall. The Albino smacks up against the wall, sliding down it as its covered in a thick layer of dirt, before you burst forward, raking your claws across the Albino's chest. You slash your claws forward, tearing out the creature's stomach as you hack into its ribs. The creature howls out in pain, weakly jabbing its claws at you as you step back in one quick dodge.

You growl, watching the dying creature in front of you. Your stomach begs you to give up any semblance of weakness, to tear into this meal and feast, but some small, weak little voice reminds you that you have a mission to do. You could leave the beast here to bleed to death, with no hope of it surviving the lethal wounds you've caused, or you could crush its skull and end its life now.
> You fEED!
The hunger too strong and the desperate rumbling in your stomach meaning you're incapable of focusing, your eyes narrow as you stare at the bleeding corpse of the beast. You could use its strength. You move your head forward, wetting your nose in the creature's warm blood, gently lapping at that which streams out before the hunger overtakes you, and you can't hold back. You find yourself devouring mouthfuls of flesh, swallowing it desperately in an attempt to fill your stomach, drinking down warm blood, feeling the thick liquid coating the inside of your mouth and throat as you enjoy the delicious meal. You lick your lips, tasting the blood of your kill on your tongue, your nostrils filled with the pungent and delectable smell of your last meal.

The meal is filling, and you find your predatory instinct howling in your mind as your body is filled with the strength of your fallen foe. Your body now fully fuelled, you look down the dark tunnel, a new sensation filling you. You hear the howls down further in, answering with a bark. You break into a bark, heading towards the barking.

Your mind races, all pain ignored, all quiet voices in the back of your mind ignored, all remaining traces of your humanity ignored. Your brothers are calling, and the beast within you gives you no choice but to answer, and answer you will.


You double down, catching in the Albino in a deadly embrace, forcing it back. Your reflexes, your speed and your abilities are far outpaced by the creature, who has had far more time to get used to its body. However, strength might be something you have. You're a tough, hardy man and far stronger than the average man, so perhaps in your lupine form you'll the stronger of this pair.

You dig your hind legs in, ramming forward as you force the beast back. The Albino yelps, attempting to shove you aside, but you've caught it now, and you're able to twist it around as you launch it against the wall. The Albino smacks up against the wall, sliding down it as its covered in a thick layer of dirt, before you burst forward, raking your claws across the Albino's chest. You slash your claws forward, tearing out the creature's stomach as you hack into its ribs. The creature howls out in pain, weakly jabbing its claws at you as you step back in one quick dodge.

You growl, watching the dying creature in front of you. Your stomach begs you to give up any semblance of weakness, to tear into this meal and feast, but some small, weak little voice reminds you that you have a mission to do. You could leave the beast here to bleed to death, with no hope of it surviving the lethal wounds you've caused, or you could crush its skull and end its life now.
> You finish off the dying cur
With a low, rumbling snarl, you slowly approach the dying creature with almost disinterest in the creature. You raise your claw, striking with all your force as you smash the creature's skull against the wall, crushing its head against the stone wall and killing it instantly.

You stare at the creature's limp, dead corpse, ignoring the dying creature. You move away from the creature, heading deep into the darkness once more.

You spend several minutes walking through the darkness, before you find yourself prowling through a new plethora of senses. You find yourself in a large, cavernous room, glowing with golden light. A bonfire sits in the center of the cavern, warming your tired bones. Three corpses of cooked meat hang from the ceiling, blood dripping down in an appetizing fashion. You stare at them, licking your lips for a moment, before changing focus. There's a row of strange, bright glowing lights to the side, showing bizarre tiny forests in the distance. A metal table sits to the side, covered with strange objects, alongside a wall where many more things hang.

Light. Heat. Warm. Fire! Bright! EAT! Meat! Flesh! Kill! FEED! NOISES! HUMANS! KILL! SLAUGHTER!

You shake your head, your mind awash with new sensations, trying to let your instincts take over. You calm yourself, and your eyes flicker open as you examine the room. You find yourself smelling what looks to be dried blood, encrusted on one of the bizarre objects. You dip your snout forward, examining it cautiously. It seems to be covered in burning metal and cold metal, a bizarre combination of the two strange materials.

You pause, hearing the sound of distant howling down the tunnels. It doesn't seem to be drawing closer, instead drawing fainter and fainter as the pack of werewolves screaming goes further and further a way. You feel drawn to it, curious as to what it could be, but a small mind deep in your head seems to recognize the object with a strange familiarity.
> You follow the howls
Your ears flicker as you hear the sound of barking and howling deep in the mineshaft, as you answer with a cautious bark. Another howl answers back, and instinct overwhelms the quiet voice in your head, and you find yourself running into the darkness, desperate to your brothers.

Your mind races, all pain ignored, all quiet voices in the back of your mind ignored, all remaining traces of your humanity ignored. Your family, your true family of blood and instinct, are calling. The beast within you gives you no choice but to answer, and answer you will.


With a low, rumbling snarl, you slowly approach the dying creature with almost disinterest in the creature. You raise your claw, striking with all your force as you smash the creature's skull against the wall, crushing its head against the stone wall and killing it instantly.

You stare at the creature's limp, dead corpse, ignoring the dying creature. You move away from the creature, heading deep into the darkness once more.

You spend several minutes walking through the darkness, before you find yourself prowling through a new plethora of senses. You find yourself in a large, cavernous room, glowing with golden light. A bonfire sits in the center of the cavern, warming your tired bones. Three corpses of cooked meat hang from the ceiling, blood dripping down in an appetizing fashion. You stare at them, licking your lips for a moment, before changing focus. There's a row of strange, bright glowing lights to the side, showing bizarre tiny forests in the distance. A metal table sits to the side, covered with strange objects, alongside a wall where many more things hang.

Light. Heat. Warm. Fire! Bright! EAT! Meat! Flesh! Kill! FEED! NOISES! HUMANS! KILL! SLAUGHTER!

You shake your head, your mind awash with new sensations, trying to let your instincts take over. You calm yourself, and your eyes flicker open as you examine the room. You find yourself smelling what looks to be dried blood, encrusted on one of the bizarre objects. You dip your snout forward, examining it cautiously. It seems to be covered in burning metal and cold metal, a bizarre combination of the two strange materials.

You pause, hearing the sound of distant howling down the tunnels. It doesn't seem to be drawing closer, instead drawing fainter and fainter as the pack of werewolves screaming goes further and further a way. You feel drawn to it, curious as to what it could be, but a small mind deep in your head seems to recognize the object with a strange familiarity.
> You investigate the object
You push your head up to the bizarre object, sniffing. The outside seems to be made of burning metal, its very aura unnerving you, but the inside is made of colder metal, and you gently press your nose against it, smelling it. It smells ever so faintly of blood, and...

Suddenly, the device snaps shut, slicing through your nose as you scream out in pain, collapsing back. The object traps your face in its burning saws, sending waves of burning pain through you. Blood pours down your snout as you scream, the tip of your nose messily hacked off, beginning to burn. You yank your face back, breaking free of the device and spraying the area with a light mist of blood as you find yourself collapsing to the ground, darkness hitting you in waves which contrast with the waves of burning pain, as you're left lying there, your body breaking and burning with pain once again.

You don't know whether it's hours, minutes or seconds later, but soon, you find sanity once again. You slowly take breath through your lips, which are torn up, cut and bleeding, your upper lip barely hanging on. Thankfully, the healing factor of the werewolves has left your upper lip scabbing up in a mismatched mess of colors. You nose is heavily damaged, smell somewhat obscured in your left nostril from the dried blood and pus clogging it. You scratch at it, a thin stream of warm blood running down your face. You groan, before finding the strength left in you.

Knowing that it's too late for you to just lay down and die, you take a deep breath, focusing your remaining strength of what you can find inside you. You roll to your knees, resting a hand against the cold earth as you relax your tired muscles, looking around the room.

The room must've been a mineshaft intersection at one point. It's been rigged up with lights and electricity, with a large desk stacked with television screens in the corner of the room. You peer over at them, watching the various scenes of the forest. It must be another bunch of cameras connected to the screens.

Your eyes flicker to the hung up "meat" ahead of you, hanging from the ceiling, as you begin to feel sick. The mutilated, bleeding corpses of Hans Hirsch, Russel Sloane and Father Charles Féval hang from the ceiling, blood dripping down and pooling underneath them. Russel Sloane's been hacked apart, his face a crushed mess, his body missing dozens of chunks of flesh all over him from the pickings the werewolves chewed off him. Hans Hirsh is even less so, his upper body entirely missing, only a pair of legs in gray trousers with black, polished boots. You recognize him from his boots, and his boots alone.

Father Féval's body still bares the marks of your shotgun blast, his chest blown apart, ribs hanging down to the ground. He's the most intact corpse there, yet the most gruesome. His face is stuck forever in an expression of fear and pain, his eyes dead and hollow, completely lifeless. You reach for your knife to cut them down, sighing as you realize its not there, and you're several outfits from the one you dressed yourself in this morning. Hell, maybe you should leave them up there anyway. At least the rats won't get there.

You feel a pang of hunger, and draw your eyes away from your comrades. You won't disgrace them like that.

Scanning the room, you find yourself staring at the table propped up against the wall, stacked with various items. Cellphones, guns, knives, ammo, equipment and an assortment of other items.

At the

Then, there's the tunnel. A long, dark cavern going in the other direction that you've went down. The howls you heard came from down there. That's where the wolves are. That's where you'll need to go to finish this.

You look down at the map ahead of you, a sprawled out blueprints of the mine. Scanning it quickly, your old eyes take in the information you need. Though you're weak in Norway, you manage to make out the notes sprawled across the page. There's a dozen designations across the various areas in the mine. Judging by where you came in, you're in the "Security Room". There's also the "Sleeping Chambers", "(HUMAN) Sleeping Chambers", "Feeding Area", and...

You pause, tapping your finger. The "Mine Equipment Storage Area (Armory)". Given the impressive arsenal of explosives that was at the scout house, there'd be even more explosives there at the armory. Enough to take down a mine. If there's even a fraction more explosives there, there might be enough to collapse the mine on itself and to kill all the beasts that prowl these mines. Perhaps you might find some use there. It's as good a place to start as any, given you won't be able to take down the horde with firearms alone.

You turn your head, hearing a low growl nearby, only to find yourself staring at the blank stone walls. You squint your eyes, making out murals among them. Blood red images crudely painted, depicting fearsome creatures and other scenes. Interesting.
> You investigate the table
You walk over to the table, examining the items. Revolvers, pistols, blades, a shotgun, a rifle, an assault weapon... you pause, realizing what you're looking at. These are the weapons, gear and general items taken from the corpses at the crash site. You see your own silver dagger lying there, realizing they must've gathered up your weapons and what fell from the tatters of your clothes. You trace your fingers alongside your personal shotgun which lies there on the table, staring at the silver shells that lie alongside it. You notice Hans' dog tags, Father Féval's silver cross, the items that remind you of the others.

However, just as you're about to turn away, you notice another object lying on the table. You lean over it, slowly examining it. The cell phone from earlier. The one given to you by Mr Gaange. You look at it, flipping it open, revealing its at half charge, its screen brightly chirping at you with a beep as it turns on. The phone starts up on the CONTACTS page, with a single number, with the contact name Mr Black.

You pause for a moment, wondering whether to call. Perhaps he has the ability to deal with the threat here. To avenge your comrades. Of course... a deal with the dark isn't your ideal choice.
> You call Mr Gaange
You sigh, pressing the number. It rings for a few second, a bright, electronic noise, before it stops.

"Hello," a deep voice answers.

"I'm looking for Mr Gaange. I need that favor."

A light chuckle comes through the phone.

"Already? My, my, someone's been having fun. What do you need?"

"I'm here in the mineshaft just North of that fucking country house your lieutenant was holed up in. There's a werewolf pack based here, with servants helping them and large numbers. I need them wiped out."

"Yes, that does seem like an issue. Well, it's a serious favor, but it is in my interest to deal with these whelps and mongrels either way, they'll be a threat. You do know this means you agree to serve me, don't you?"

You pause for a moment, the room silent.

"I do."

"Good. Then let's get down to it."

You tell Mr Gaange everything you know about the pack and your location, before he stops you.

"That's enough. I have all I need. You're lucky, I have a team nearby covering what happened with my lieutenant. See if you can last another fifteen minutes, and I'll do the rest."

"OK," you answer heavily. "OK."

"Good. Best of luck, Mr Matasan."

The phone line goes dead, as you slowly move to the table ahead of you, picking up your shotgun, loading it carefully. You grab Father Féval's silver crucifix, leaning against the wall and sliding down it into a sitting position. You prop the shotgun up in your hands, aiming it at the tunnel ahead of you, and wait.

The waiting is long and hard. Blood loss and exhaustion is an issue, and you focus to stay alert now that the night's adrenaline has calmed. In addition to that, the beast within is howling and roaring, and at several points you have to harshly dig your silver crucifix into your bullet wound, the roar of burning pain and the cross' silver driving the wolf back for a while.

Suddenly, you see a figure entering the room, clad all in black. The figure wears black combat armor with a black gas mask, an assault rifle in his hands. The figure immediately swivels his gun to aim at you, dropping to a knee.

"Drop your weapons!" he yells, his voice muffled by his gas mask.
> You open fire!
You grab your shotgun, swinging it off the table and aiming it at the trooper. He's faster, however, unnaturally fast, raising his gun and dropping to his knees. He raises his assault rifle, firing with a blast as bullets thud into your chest.

The silver rounds tear through your heart, as you collapse backwards, sliding down the wall and leaving a trail of blood. You gasp, as the world begins to go black, the strength pouring out of your body.

"Enemy combatant down, move in!" he says in a deep voice, motioning to the rest of his squad.

You watch as a squad of the soldiers enter the room, clad in black and wielding the same guns. Feeling the silver bullets burn in your chest as he fades black, you feel a glimmer of hope. You're dying tonight, but so are the werewolves. Tonight, Fenrir's put down.

Minutes later, when Mr Gaange's men move your body from the mineshaft, they wonder why you're smiling.


You sigh, pressing the number. It rings for a few second, a bright, electronic noise, before it stops.

"Hello," a deep voice answers.

"I'm looking for Mr Gaange. I need that favor."

A light chuckle comes through the phone.

"Already? My, my, someone's been having fun. What do you need?"

"I'm here in the mineshaft just North of that fucking country house your lieutenant was holed up in. There's a werewolf pack based here, with servants helping them and large numbers. I need them wiped out."

"Yes, that does seem like an issue. Well, it's a serious favor, but it is in my interest to deal with these whelps and mongrels either way, they'll be a threat. You do know this means you agree to serve me, don't you?"

You pause for a moment, the room silent.

"I do."

"Good. Then let's get down to it."

You tell Mr Gaange everything you know about the pack and your location, before he stops you.

"That's enough. I have all I need. You're lucky, I have a team nearby covering what happened with my lieutenant. See if you can last another fifteen minutes, and I'll do the rest."

"OK," you answer heavily. "OK."

"Good. Best of luck, Mr Matasan."

The phone line goes dead, as you slowly move to the table ahead of you, picking up your shotgun, loading it carefully. You grab Father Féval's silver crucifix, leaning against the wall and sliding down it into a sitting position. You prop the shotgun up in your hands, aiming it at the tunnel ahead of you, and wait.

The waiting is long and hard. Blood loss and exhaustion is an issue, and you focus to stay alert now that the night's adrenaline has calmed. In addition to that, the beast within is howling and roaring, and at several points you have to harshly dig your silver crucifix into your bullet wound, the roar of burning pain and the cross' silver driving the wolf back for a while.

Suddenly, you see a figure entering the room, clad all in black. The figure wears black combat armor with a black gas mask, an assault rifle in his hands. The figure immediately swivels his gun to aim at you, dropping to a knee.

"Drop your weapons!" he yells, his voice muffled by his gas mask.
> You embrace the beast within
You dig your nails into your skin, roaring as you burst forward. The soldier swings his gun around, dropping to his need with incredible speed and pulling the trigger, a blast of silver bullets spraying out and hitting you square in the chest. You collapse to the ground mid transformation, the silver in your chest stopping your heart and transformation instantly. You hit the ground with a thud, gasping for bloody breath, before going still.

"Enemy combatant down, move in!" he says in a deep voice, motioning to the rest of his squad.

You watch as a squad of the soldiers enter the room, clad in black and wielding the same guns. Feeling the silver bullets burn in your chest as he fades black, you feel a glimmer of hope. You're dying tonight, but so are the werewolves. Tonignt, Fenrir's put down.

Minutes later, when Mr Gaange's men move your body from the mineshaft, they wonder why you're smiling.


You sigh, pressing the number. It rings for a few second, a bright, electronic noise, before it stops.

"Hello," a deep voice answers.

"I'm looking for Mr Gaange. I need that favor."

A light chuckle comes through the phone.

"Already? My, my, someone's been having fun. What do you need?"

"I'm here in the mineshaft just North of that fucking country house your lieutenant was holed up in. There's a werewolf pack based here, with servants helping them and large numbers. I need them wiped out."

"Yes, that does seem like an issue. Well, it's a serious favor, but it is in my interest to deal with these whelps and mongrels either way, they'll be a threat. You do know this means you agree to serve me, don't you?"

You pause for a moment, the room silent.

"I do."

"Good. Then let's get down to it."

You tell Mr Gaange everything you know about the pack and your location, before he stops you.

"That's enough. I have all I need. You're lucky, I have a team nearby covering what happened with my lieutenant. See if you can last another fifteen minutes, and I'll do the rest."

"OK," you answer heavily. "OK."

"Good. Best of luck, Mr Matasan."

The phone line goes dead, as you slowly move to the table ahead of you, picking up your shotgun, loading it carefully. You grab Father Féval's silver crucifix, leaning against the wall and sliding down it into a sitting position. You prop the shotgun up in your hands, aiming it at the tunnel ahead of you, and wait.

The waiting is long and hard. Blood loss and exhaustion is an issue, and you focus to stay alert now that the night's adrenaline has calmed. In addition to that, the beast within is howling and roaring, and at several points you have to harshly dig your silver crucifix into your bullet wound, the roar of burning pain and the cross' silver driving the wolf back for a while.

Suddenly, you see a figure entering the room, clad all in black. The figure wears black combat armor with a black gas mask, an assault rifle in his hands. The figure immediately swivels his gun to aim at you, dropping to a knee.

"Drop your weapons!" he yells, his voice muffled by his gas mask.
> You surrender
You drop your weapon, smiling grimly at the man. He moves forward, as more of his squad mates move into the room, sweeping their guns around it as they enter. The soldier in front of you kicks your gun away, before motioning to someone down the tunnel.

"We're clear, we're clear, move in!" he shouts.

The squad disappears off down the tunnel, leaving only two members guarding the way they came in. Then, a figure like a shadow enters the room.

A tall, gaunt man, wear a black suit, black tie and bowler hat walks into the room. His pallor is unnaturally pale, his eyes cold and icy. He smiles at you as he enters, a polite smile with a small pair of fangs becoming clear when he does.

"Mr Matasan, I presume?" he asks, extending his long arm to you.

You grab it, shaking his hand weakly.

"A pleasure, Mr Gaange."

Mr Gaange sniffs, pulling a disgusted look.

"You'll have to forgive my lack of manners, Mr Matasan, but by god, you smell terrible! Your blood reeks with the bestial stink of Fenrir."

You nod, motioning to the scabbed mess that shows your werewolf bite.

"Aah... unfortunate," Mr Gaange pauses. "I suppose in turning you I'll need to be draining you of your wolf blood before this conversion can take place. Are you ready to join the long night?"

"You can still convert me?" you say, frowning.

"Of course," the Vampire smiles.

You nod, unsure how you feel about that, before nodding.

"Let's do it," you nod grimly.

Mr Gaange offers you his hand, and you take it. He lowers down, raising your wrist to his fanged mouth. Then, he bites down, two fangs disappearing into your arm with an slight stabbing pain. The vampire begins to suck, as you can feel your arm go weak, then your body, then your entire essence, your blood being drained from your body. You go woozy, eyes fluttering, before you find a new feeling in your body. A new, unholy strength of darkness building in your core. You groan, as your body grows cold, the warmth and energy drained from it, but replaced with something darker.

Moments later, the new you emerges as Mr Gaange pulls his mouth away, dabbing his face with a napkin. You look down to your wrist, two puncture holes in your skin, but no blood trickles out, for none remains.

Your body is cold, your skin pale. You feel your teeth twist in your jaw, a pair of fangs emerging down, but compared to the transformations of the night, it's heaven. Instead of endless burning pain, you just feel numb and cold. However, you feel a newfound power in you. A strength you've never felt before. You smile, nodding your head slowly.

"Yes... this feels good," you smile. "I feel powerful."

"Good. You take to it well, little one."

You frown realizing how parched your throat is. The beast within you is dead, but your stomach is empty. You don't want food, though. The desperate desire to fill your stomach with flesh is gone. However... you thirst. Terribly so. A deep thirst runs through your body.

"The thirst will be dealt with soon, don't worry," Mr Gaange smiles. "Sergeant Lund, have one of the captured wolf worshippers brought to me."

The sergeant nods, before saying something in Norwegian into his walkie-talkie. Mere moments later, two of the black-clad soldiers arrive in, dragging a bare-chested, heavily tattooed man with long hair and covered with scars; one of the wolf servants from earlier. He's handcuffed and gagged, but snarls and fights with every step.

"Target here, sir!" one says, bowing his head slightly.

"Offer him to my new associate, if you please, gentlemen. He's growing thirsty," Mr Gaange says.

The two soldiers nod, moving the prisoner in front of you. They grab his head, pulling it aside to reveal his bare neck.

"Enjoy the meal, my good man," Mr Gaange says, grinning.

With that, you're unable to resist the thirst, feeling so desperate for a think that you'll do anything. You dart your head forward, sinking your fangs into the man with predatory instinct. The man screams into his gag as his artery bursts, as you press your mouth up against the wound and begin to drain him of his blood. You gulp down the blood as quickly as you can, the warm blood filling you and sating your thirst as you sigh in joy. You drink for as long as you can, each gulp bringing you strength and power. Eventually, you pull your head back, your mouth covered with blood as you smile, filled with strength once more. The two soldiers lift the drained corpse onto their shoulders, looking to Mr Gaange.

"Thank you, gentlemen, thank you," Mr Gaange smiles.

You drop to your knees once more, feeling truly powerful and in control, and full. Strength ebbs through your body, as you grin from ear to ear, power filling your very core.

You look up at Mr Gaange, as he offers you his hand.

"Take my hand, Mr Matasan. Tonight, your new life begins."

You feel the power course through your veins, wondering if you could strike and take him down. You'd be breaking your deal, but you have the element of surprise.
> You take Mr Gaange's hand
In Service of the Night

The rest of the night is a hunt of the truest order. With the Hunters, you had limited support, limited training and only whatever equipment you could find. These men are an entirely different order. With unnatural speed, unnatural perception and unnatural strength, they move quickly through the mineshaft, their high-tech gear and weapons  giving them the edge.

Soon, the pack's been wiped out, every one of the kind dead. You're led out of the mineshaft to where a trio of black helicopters await you, and you're taken off to serve Mr Gaange in your new life.

Life serving Mr Gaange is good. You're given a comfortable, secluded country house in your home country, a small place in Glasgow, although you spend most of your time in hotels and apartments abroad. You serve Mr Gaange as his primary hunter, tasked with targeting the same supernatural threats you hunted in life, investigating them and leading the elimination with Mr Gaange's security force. The types you normally go after are those who cross Mr Gaange, those that threaten to expose the existence of the supernatural to the mortal realm, or those who stand as a threat to man itself, like the werewolf pack you dealt with the night of your first vampiric feeding.

Mr Gaange takes good care of you, like he said. You earn a six figure salary with plenty of perks, and whenever you can't secure some scumbag to feed off in your investigations or hunting, you simply have to call Mr Gaange. Days or even hours later, a bound and gagged man is delivered to you. Mr Gaange assures you that these men are the worst of the worst; traitors, rapists, murderers and those who conspired to help the creatures of the night spill innocent blood. You're never sure, though.

That's a common theme with Mr Gaange. Uncertainty. Through and through it all, you're never sure what his motives are. He sure seems interested in helping humanity, but it could all be to get good publicity and keep the loyalty of his more moral minded servants. You're never sure what his true goals are, or what he really wants. Of course, you know not to look into it. You have a lot of freedom in doing your work, but that privilege is not within your reach.

Still, life is good under Mr Gaange. Sure, you miss the sunlight, and the certainty that what you were doing was right with the Lodge, but overall, you're more effectively hunting your foe and you're living at a far higher standard of living.

You were once weak and mortal. But now, you are a true hunter. A Vampire. And the night, which was once ruled by the monsters, now belongs to you.


You drop your weapon, smiling grimly at the man. He moves forward, as more of his squad mates move into the room, sweeping their guns around it as they enter. The soldier in front of you kicks your gun away, before motioning to someone down the tunnel.

"We're clear, we're clear, move in!" he shouts.

The squad disappears off down the tunnel, leaving only two members guarding the way they came in. Then, a figure like a shadow enters the room.

A tall, gaunt man, wear a black suit, black tie and bowler hat walks into the room. His pallor is unnaturally pale, his eyes cold and icy. He smiles at you as he enters, a polite smile with a small pair of fangs becoming clear when he does.

"Mr Matasan, I presume?" he asks, extending his long arm to you.

You grab it, shaking his hand weakly.

"A pleasure, Mr Gaange."

Mr Gaange sniffs, pulling a disgusted look.

"You'll have to forgive my lack of manners, Mr Matasan, but by god, you smell terrible! Your blood reeks with the bestial stink of Fenrir."

You nod, motioning to the scabbed mess that shows your werewolf bite.

"Aah... unfortunate," Mr Gaange pauses. "I suppose in turning you I'll need to be draining you of your wolf blood before this conversion can take place. Are you ready to join the long night?"

"You can still convert me?" you say, frowning.

"Of course," the Vampire smiles.

You nod, unsure how you feel about that, before nodding.

"Let's do it," you nod grimly.

Mr Gaange offers you his hand, and you take it. He lowers down, raising your wrist to his fanged mouth. Then, he bites down, two fangs disappearing into your arm with an slight stabbing pain. The vampire begins to suck, as you can feel your arm go weak, then your body, then your entire essence, your blood being drained from your body. You go woozy, eyes fluttering, before you find a new feeling in your body. A new, unholy strength of darkness building in your core. You groan, as your body grows cold, the warmth and energy drained from it, but replaced with something darker.

Moments later, the new you emerges as Mr Gaange pulls his mouth away, dabbing his face with a napkin. You look down to your wrist, two puncture holes in your skin, but no blood trickles out, for none remains.

Your body is cold, your skin pale. You feel your teeth twist in your jaw, a pair of fangs emerging down, but compared to the transformations of the night, it's heaven. Instead of endless burning pain, you just feel numb and cold. However, you feel a newfound power in you. A strength you've never felt before. You smile, nodding your head slowly.

"Yes... this feels good," you smile. "I feel powerful."

"Good. You take to it well, little one."

You frown realizing how parched your throat is. The beast within you is dead, but your stomach is empty. You don't want food, though. The desperate desire to fill your stomach with flesh is gone. However... you thirst. Terribly so. A deep thirst runs through your body.

"The thirst will be dealt with soon, don't worry," Mr Gaange smiles. "Sergeant Lund, have one of the captured wolf worshippers brought to me."

The sergeant nods, before saying something in Norwegian into his walkie-talkie. Mere moments later, two of the black-clad soldiers arrive in, dragging a bare-chested, heavily tattooed man with long hair and covered with scars; one of the wolf servants from earlier. He's handcuffed and gagged, but snarls and fights with every step.

"Target here, sir!" one says, bowing his head slightly.

"Offer him to my new associate, if you please, gentlemen. He's growing thirsty," Mr Gaange says.

The two soldiers nod, moving the prisoner in front of you. They grab his head, pulling it aside to reveal his bare neck.

"Enjoy the meal, my good man," Mr Gaange says, grinning.

With that, you're unable to resist the thirst, feeling so desperate for a think that you'll do anything. You dart your head forward, sinking your fangs into the man with predatory instinct. The man screams into his gag as his artery bursts, as you press your mouth up against the wound and begin to drain him of his blood. You gulp down the blood as quickly as you can, the warm blood filling you and sating your thirst as you sigh in joy. You drink for as long as you can, each gulp bringing you strength and power. Eventually, you pull your head back, your mouth covered with blood as you smile, filled with strength once more. The two soldiers lift the drained corpse onto their shoulders, looking to Mr Gaange.

"Thank you, gentlemen, thank you," Mr Gaange smiles.

You drop to your knees once more, feeling truly powerful and in control, and full. Strength ebbs through your body, as you grin from ear to ear, power filling your very core.

You look up at Mr Gaange, as he offers you his hand.

"Take my hand, Mr Matasan. Tonight, your new life begins."

You feel the power course through your veins, wondering if you could strike and take him down. You'd be breaking your deal, but you have the element of surprise.
> You strike with your newfound power!
You take a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of your power in your chest, building it through your body before striking. You stab with your sharpened claws, jabbing them for his neck with a snarl. Mr Gaange sidesteps your strike, letting the nail fly past you as he grabs your wrist. He twists your arm around, sending you to your knees as you howl out in pain. Mr Gaange slams you forward, knocking your head into the ground with a thud.

Mr Gaange drops down, keeping an unnaturally strong grip on your neck as he smashes your head into the ground again, and again, and again, as your nose breaks, blood spurting out onto the ground as your mind quickly goes dark.
> The Darkness consumes you
The Black Coffin

Your hazy mind regains conscious, as you find yourself breathing heavily. There's a throbbing pain in your head as you groan, wondering where you are. Your eyes can see nothing but endless darkness, the rest of your senses just as dull. You reach out into the darkness, finding your fingers brushing against cold metal. You knock your hands against them, trying to move, finding yourself stuck by six tight metal walls.

A light flickers on, as you find yourself staring at a TV screen. The screen depicts the smiling face of Mr Gaange, who is sitting in an armchair in front of a roaring fire. A whiskey glass, filled with dark, crimson liquid, sits in his hands, his face a dim smile.

"Hell, Mr Matasan. It seems that you've betrayed me. I offered you the world, and you accepted. Then, you betrayed me seconds after our agreement. Mere... seconds. Do you remember?"

"Fuck you!" you growl, struggling against the iron coffin.

"And you had such politeness not too long ago," Mr Gaange sighs. "I'm watching you through a camera in this monitor, in case you were wondering. I'll be watching you, and I will have a delightful time doing so. You see, there are two interesting facts about vampires. The first is that we are immortal. Age cannot take us. Disease cannot take us. Starvation cannot take us. The only way we can die is through sunlight, and through being killed by stake, bullet, knife or whatever method. The second thing is that vampires need to drink blood to survive with their sanity intact. Without it, they grow thirsty. At first, simply a dry throat. Then, a deep thirst. A predatory need to feed. And it gets worse, and worse, and worse. Imagine lying in the hottest, driest desert in the world, without the chance to drop to drink. Imagine lying there, desperate, so maddened by thirst you'd do anything for a drop of water... for minutes... hours... days... weeks... months... years... decades... centuries..."

The man laughs deeply.

"Hard to imagine? Don't worry. There's no need to. You'll understand that pain soon. Here you are, buried in an iron coffin trapped deep underground. Down there, you are incapable of finding a way out. You are trapped. You are never going to escape. And I am going to watch as the thirst grows... as sanity and loneliness set in and tear your soul to shreds... as you suffer for betraying my generous offer. Good night, Mr Matasan."

The screen flicks off, and you scream as you're consumed by total darkness. You scream, and scream, and scream, howling at the darkness, begging and pleading for mercy, pounding at the coffin as the thirst in your soul grows, as you become more and more desperate.

Welcome to eternity.


You walk over to the table, examining the items. Revolvers, pistols, blades, a shotgun, a rifle, an assault weapon... you pause, realizing what you're looking at. These are the weapons, gear and general items taken from the corpses at the crash site. You see your own silver dagger lying there, realizing they must've gathered up your weapons and what fell from the tatters of your clothes. You trace your fingers alongside your personal shotgun which lies there on the table, staring at the silver shells that lie alongside it. You notice Hans' dog tags, Father Féval's silver cross, the items that remind you of the others.

However, just as you're about to turn away, you notice another object lying on the table. You lean over it, slowly examining it. The cell phone from earlier. The one given to you by Mr Gaange. You look at it, flipping it open, revealing its at half charge, its screen brightly chirping at you with a beep as it turns on. The phone starts up on the CONTACTS page, with a single number, with the contact name Mr Black.

You pause for a moment, wondering whether to call. Perhaps he has the ability to deal with the threat here. To avenge your comrades. Of course... a deal with the dark isn't your ideal choice.
> You destroy the phone
You draw a revolver from the table, checking to make sure its loaded, before aiming at the table. You fire, the phone exploding in a burst of wires and plastic.

"Hope I don't leave you waiting for the call, vampire," you say grimly, before shaking your head.

You drop the revolver to the table with a loud clatter, looking around the rest of the room.


You push your head up to the bizarre object, sniffing. The outside seems to be made of burning metal, its very aura unnerving you, but the inside is made of colder metal, and you gently press your nose against it, smelling it. It smells ever so faintly of blood, and...

Suddenly, the device snaps shut, slicing through your nose as you scream out in pain, collapsing back. The object traps your face in its burning saws, sending waves of burning pain through you. Blood pours down your snout as you scream, the tip of your nose messily hacked off, beginning to burn. You yank your face back, breaking free of the device and spraying the area with a light mist of blood as you find yourself collapsing to the ground, darkness hitting you in waves which contrast with the waves of burning pain, as you're left lying there, your body breaking and burning with pain once again.

You don't know whether it's hours, minutes or seconds later, but soon, you find sanity once again. You slowly take breath through your lips, which are torn up, cut and bleeding, your upper lip barely hanging on. Thankfully, the healing factor of the werewolves has left your upper lip scabbing up in a mismatched mess of colors. You nose is heavily damaged, smell somewhat obscured in your left nostril from the dried blood and pus clogging it. You scratch at it, a thin stream of warm blood running down your face. You groan, before finding the strength left in you.

Knowing that it's too late for you to just lay down and die, you take a deep breath, focusing your remaining strength of what you can find inside you. You roll to your knees, resting a hand against the cold earth as you relax your tired muscles, looking around the room.

The room must've been a mineshaft intersection at one point. It's been rigged up with lights and electricity, with a large desk stacked with television screens in the corner of the room. You peer over at them, watching the various scenes of the forest. It must be another bunch of cameras connected to the screens.

Your eyes flicker to the hung up "meat" ahead of you, hanging from the ceiling, as you begin to feel sick. The mutilated, bleeding corpses of Hans Hirsch, Russel Sloane and Father Charles Féval hang from the ceiling, blood dripping down and pooling underneath them. Russel Sloane's been hacked apart, his face a crushed mess, his body missing dozens of chunks of flesh all over him from the pickings the werewolves chewed off him. Hans Hirsh is even less so, his upper body entirely missing, only a pair of legs in gray trousers with black, polished boots. You recognize him from his boots, and his boots alone.

Father Féval's body still bares the marks of your shotgun blast, his chest blown apart, ribs hanging down to the ground. He's the most intact corpse there, yet the most gruesome. His face is stuck forever in an expression of fear and pain, his eyes dead and hollow, completely lifeless. You reach for your knife to cut them down, sighing as you realize its not there, and you're several outfits from the one you dressed yourself in this morning. Hell, maybe you should leave them up there anyway. At least the rats won't get there.

You feel a pang of hunger, and draw your eyes away from your comrades. You won't disgrace them like that.

Scanning the room, you find yourself staring at the table propped up against the wall, stacked with various items. Cellphones, guns, knives, ammo, equipment and an assortment of other items.

At the

Then, there's the tunnel. A long, dark cavern going in the other direction that you've went down. The howls you heard came from down there. That's where the wolves are. That's where you'll need to go to finish this.

You look down at the map ahead of you, a sprawled out blueprints of the mine. Scanning it quickly, your old eyes take in the information you need. Though you're weak in Norway, you manage to make out the notes sprawled across the page. There's a dozen designations across the various areas in the mine. Judging by where you came in, you're in the "Security Room". There's also the "Sleeping Chambers", "(HUMAN) Sleeping Chambers", "Feeding Area", and...

You pause, tapping your finger. The "Mine Equipment Storage Area (Armory)". Given the impressive arsenal of explosives that was at the scout house, there'd be even more explosives there at the armory. Enough to take down a mine. If there's even a fraction more explosives there, there might be enough to collapse the mine on itself and to kill all the beasts that prowl these mines. Perhaps you might find some use there. It's as good a place to start as any, given you won't be able to take down the horde with firearms alone.

You turn your head, hearing a low growl nearby, only to find yourself staring at the blank stone walls. You squint your eyes, making out murals among them. Blood red images crudely painted, depicting fearsome creatures and other scenes. Interesting.
> You investigate the murals
You walk forward, staring at the wall in front of you. The scenes are in red paint, depicting fearsome werewolves prowling across the wall, chasing simple outlines of human figures. You follow it from right to left, seeing a massive chained wolf howling at the sky at the very left. Despite the brutal simplicity of the drawings, they reflect a certain life, certain realism, a certain bestial energy that's beyond you. You stare inherently, slowly moving your hands towards them.

Your hands slowly edge towards the murals, fingers tracing the outlines of shapes and scenes. The first one depicts a wolf, bound and chained, surrounded by vague outlines of spear-wielding humans. The next depicts a spear wielding human holding a chain in the beasts maw. The next seems to depict a half-man, half-wolf. No doubt the first werewolf, frozen mid transformation in a scream.

You pause, staring at the scene in front of you. Despite the simplistic nature of the drawing, being little more than a stick man with a wolf head and claw, most other duties vague and confusing to you, but it holds impact to you. You can almost hear the faint screams of the man as they turn to howls, feel the familiar pain he went through in your heart. You truly understand him.

As you look on, the pictures seem to beat and hum with an animalistic energy. The next scene shows the werewolf hunting down packs of warriors, catching one by the leg. The next shows the werewolf watching him transform, as once again his painful transformation feels all too familiar to you. Then, you see an image of a pack of werewolves running against the tunnel walls.

The final image shows you the glowing image of the moon, surrounded by a pack of werewolves tearing around Mother Luna. You stare at the moon, watching as the symbol drawing hums and haws with power, glowing in your eyes with a tremendous power beyond human comprehension. You watch, your eyes shining in the reflection.

Bright. Moon. Power! Beast! FENRIR! FENRIR CALLS!

You heard the world shake and shiver around you, as a booming growl fills the tunnels.

"Little one... look at how far you've fallen. Once a proud mortal hunter, now a slave to your bestial urges... my bestial urges," a booming voice growls, tearing through your mind as you feel the urge to howl back at it.

You drop to your knees, clutching your hands to your head, you try to focus on the burn of the silver inside you or your wounds, trying not to let your urges consume you.

"I am Fenrir, God of Beasts, Hróðvitnir, Hound of  Ragnarök, Vánagandr, son of Loki, father of Sköll and Hati Hróðvitnisson, the prophesied killer of Odin, the creator of the werewolves and the Great Maw That Will Consume The World."

Focusing on your pain, you manage to hold back the beast within, but only barely. Focusing on the burning hot silver coals in your chest, the pain of your torn up face and the stab wound in your side that's been jabbed in your side, you hold onto your sanity, your humanity, yourself.

"You've proven yourself strong. Courageous. Violent. Powerful. I wish to make you my champion. I will sharpen your bestial instinct, I will lengthen your claws, broaden your form, strengthen your flesh, harden your bones. I will make you far more powerful than you have been tonight, a true avatar of my form."

You stare ahead at the mural, as the confusing red lines seem to draw together in the growling face of a wolf for a moment, before it becomes too painful to look at.

"Simply... embrace the change. Embrace the beast within. Embrace yourself. I'll even leave you with enough of a mind that you can finish what you started here. All you have to do is to release the beast within, and answer my call!"
> You aNSWER FENRIR'S CALL! RELEASE THE BEAST!
The fear, the anger, the hate, the sadness and the pain inside you are consumed by the beast within, as you release your pent up emotions in a roar. Fenrir answers your roar with one of his own, as you collapse to your knees, hair sprouting rapidly to coat your body in a thick coating. Pain courses through you, but unlike before, its a good pain, like the burn of exercising. Your muscles grow and thicken in large coils beyond anything you've grown tonight, skin stretching to cover it. Your teeth sharpen, allowing you to form a malevolent grin that stretches across your face as it twists into a snout. Your ears flicker, listening carefully to the noises of the mineshaft, hearing a chorus of howls further down.

Your lean back on your hind legs, your arms broken and reformed into forelegs topped with beautifully sharp claws that stretch from your fingernails, blood pouring forth from your hand, running down your fur-covered fingers as you laugh, your lupine vocal cords morphing the noise into a deep, guttural noise. Losing all traces of humanity, all you feel is a bloodlust beyond that of any man's mind, with a hunger filling you. You lick your lips greedily, ready to strike.

You stand, tall and strong, much larger than you ever have, snarling and running your tongue along your sharpened teeth, like dozens of ivory daggers. You feel strength course through your blood, feeling the true power of Fenrir. No longer are you bound by your weak, wretched human form. Now you have the body of a true predator, gifted to you by the God of Beasts. You are a hunter. Those werewolves that are foolish enough to remain in this mine shaft are you prey.

"Good... good, little one," the voice of Fenrir whispers. "Now... hunt."

Time to answer his call.
> You carve your way to the Alpha
Fenrir's call having strengthened your soul and sharpened your abilities, your lupine hunting form solidified, your claws sharpened and a true feeling of power in your heart, you're ready to strike. You hurry through the mine shafts and tunnels, nostrils filled with the pungent odor of the other werewolves hiding in the tunnels.

The werewolves are easy to hunt down through the tunnels, as you slaughter them like lambs. With your abilities, you've found that you're faster, stronger and better than any you come across. They're lambs, and you're a wolf. Any werewolves caught by themselves are torn apart, clawed up or eaten, none able to escape your fury. However, these are just simple targets to take down, not the main threat. The main threat's scent is on your nose, and you're hunting him down.

You enter a large, open room of the mine shaft, and you find it emerging from the darkness.

The Alpha.

The creature stares at you with its one working eye, an eye that seems twisted by malice. It slowly prowls ahead, thin, angular body emerging from the darkness.  It lets out a bark, as the other werewolves in the mine shaft slowly part, moving back to allow you two to fight.

It's a challenge. The Alpha is challenging you for dominance, clearly aware that its position is tenuous, and that if it doesn't take down the new threat, it'll lose the respect of its pack. It's lost Fenrir's favor, and needs to regain it. You won't let it.

Kill! Slaughter! TEAR! BITE! CLAW! HACK! EAT! BLOOD! FLESH! EVISCERATE"

The werewolf lunges forward towards you, as you're left ready to take down the beast.
> You rend the creatures face open with your claws
You slash your claws forward, tearing through the Alpha's face and carving through its snout, but the full weight of hundreds of pounds are still barreling on top of you, as they slam into you, knocking you to the ground with a thud. The weight smashes you against the ground with a pained yell, as you're pinned to the ground.

The Alpha howls, blood spraying down from its face, but its still got the instinct to keep you pinned down. The creature keeps you forced against the ground, pressing its claws against you as you only barely manage to force it back. It's snapping maw nears your face, as you attempt to keep the creature off you. You find yourself stuck and unable to react.
> You throw the beast off you
You roll your legs under the Alpha's weight, forcing your legs forwards under the creature's weight as you ram your claws against its chest, trying to push it off. You push with all your might, and the Alpha begins to budge, before taking its chance to strike.

With your four legs pressed up against the creature's body in your attempt to throw it off, its claws are free, and burst forward, slashing at you. Two pairs of claws hack across your face, cutting through your snout and tearing it off, before cutting through your skull as you howl in pain. The claws tear through your face, leaving you broken and bleeding, before your head drops to the ground, blood staining your fur.


You slash your claws forward, tearing through the Alpha's face and carving through its snout, but the full weight of hundreds of pounds are still barreling on top of you, as they slam into you, knocking you to the ground with a thud. The weight smashes you against the ground with a pained yell, as you're pinned to the ground.

The Alpha howls, blood spraying down from its face, but its still got the instinct to keep you pinned down. The creature keeps you forced against the ground, pressing its claws against you as you only barely manage to force it back. It's snapping maw nears your face, as you attempt to keep the creature off you. You find yourself stuck and unable to react.
> You scratch at the creature's eyes
You move your claw under the creature's weight, before slashing your furs towards the Alpha's bloody face. However, the creature's just had to feel the pain of your claws slashing through your face, as it strains to raise its head and keep your claws away from it. It manages to keep your claws from cutting through little but fur, as you wear out your strength. Soon, your strength is sapped, and you go weak under its weight.

With your strength sapped, the Alpha smashes its claws down and bashes past your weak arms, hacking through your chest and busting through your ribcage. You howl, pain wracking through you as you go weak, body shuddering as your heart is crushed under the Alpha's blows.


You slash your claws forward, tearing through the Alpha's face and carving through its snout, but the full weight of hundreds of pounds are still barreling on top of you, as they slam into you, knocking you to the ground with a thud. The weight smashes you against the ground with a pained yell, as you're pinned to the ground.

The Alpha howls, blood spraying down from its face, but its still got the instinct to keep you pinned down. The creature keeps you forced against the ground, pressing its claws against you as you only barely manage to force it back. It's snapping maw nears your face, as you attempt to keep the creature off you. You find yourself stuck and unable to react.
> You hack open the creature's arm
You hack your claws at the creature's arm, or leg, or whatever it could be called, cutting through its flesh and muscles, tearing through hide and fur to the point where your claw is scraping against bone. The creature howls in pain, rolling off you as it retreats with its torn up limb. You pounce forward, unready to give it's a moment respite from the bloodshed.

You grab the Alpha in an embrace, forcing the creature back as its claws and arms wrap around. The two of you force your strengths against each other, each trying to push other down to tear your foe apart, but its an equal battle. Even with your gifts from Fenrir, the Alpha is an old being with a fearsome strength, and far beyond what you've dealt with before.

The two of you fight, claw and tooth, howling and roaring in the mineshaft, as you try to find everything within you you can find to win this battle.
> You kill! KILL! Call upon Fenrir's strength and kill!
You roar, feeling Fenrir's might rush through your body. You ram the creature backwards, roaring and howling as you push the creature backwards.

STRENGTH! POWER! RAGE! KILL! DIE!

You force the Alpha back again, releasing a burst of laughing as you realize the creature isn't an Alpha. Its a weak, fragile creature to be torn apart. Roaring once more, you ram the creature against the mine shaft, before knocking it to the ground to bash your claw against the creature's skull. You knock it over onto its back with a swipe, before diving atop it, tearing your jaws into it. You tear out its throat, lifting your head into the air and swallowing it with a wave of blood and flesh. It tries to whimper, but its only a wet squelch.

You stare at the other wolves, seeing them bow their heads, low and submissive of you. They're no longer your enemy. They're weak, and they see someone strong. You're their inspiration. You're their leader. Any traces of humanity is gone, as your howl joins Fenrir's. You are one of these creatures. You are their leader. This is your destiny.

You lift your head towards the sky, and howl, as your call is answered by the rest of your pack.
> You take control of your new pack
The New Alpha

You sprint through the forest, the glow of the moon above you, lighting your path and filling you with strength. Your companions follow you, prowling through the shadows, their every sound and movement a communication to you.

Run. Lead. Track! Sprint! HUNT!

You keep running, your ears flickering as you hear the sounds of the forest, your nose smelling the scents that fill the forest. Your body is perfect for sprinting through the forest, designed for running, for leaping and pouncing. Your claws are weapons designed to kill, your teeth knives to pierce and cut. You are a killing machine, a predator designed from millions of years. You are Fenrir's champion, blessed with his abilities, his form, his instincts, his nature, his power!

You are a hunter.

You reach the ridge at the edge of the forest, staring down at the moonlit suburbs. The suburbs seem strange, bizarre and confusing, but your instincts and the barest remains of your humanity know that they're filled with people.

Lights. Noise. Humans! Prey! HUNT! KILL!

The buzz of the suburbs, the strange, unnatural lights from the buildings and the strange sounds of humans activity. The suburbs are filled with the weak, pathetic prey animals. They're down there, little more than easy meals to be torn apart or devoured, with the worthiest given Fenrir's gift. They're down there, unaware to what owns the night.

They are your prey.

You let out your howl, as you watch as dozens upon dozens of werewolves emerge from the trees, staring down greedily towards the town. Those you're created, those you're recruited, those who have answered your call. The werewolves begin to descend upon the suburbs, racing towards the buildings. You howl again, a fierce noise as you howl towards the bright moon that hangs low in the sky.

Tonight, you hunt in the pale moonlight.


You hack your claws at the creature's arm, or leg, or whatever it could be called, cutting through its flesh and muscles, tearing through hide and fur to the point where your claw is scraping against bone. The creature howls in pain, rolling off you as it retreats with its torn up limb. You pounce forward, unready to give it's a moment respite from the bloodshed.

You grab the Alpha in an embrace, forcing the creature back as its claws and arms wrap around. The two of you force your strengths against each other, each trying to push other down to tear your foe apart, but its an equal battle. Even with your gifts from Fenrir, the Alpha is an old being with a fearsome strength, and far beyond what you've dealt with before.

The two of you fight, claw and tooth, howling and roaring in the mineshaft, as you try to find everything within you you can find to win this battle.
> You focus and use all of your might!
You focus, focusing on the pain in your chest, the wound in your side, your carved up nose. You growl, finding the strength rise up inside of you, focusing on your task. You need one more drop of strength tonight. One more victory!

You dig your heels in, roaring as you toss the werewolf backwards, overcoming its strength and flipping it onto its back. As the creature collapses onto the ground, you lead forward, landing atop the creature. It howls out in pain, before you slam your claws against the creature's head with all your strength, crushing the creature's skull with one solid motion, killing it instantly.

You howl towards the moon, a noise which soon turns to laughter. You turn other werewolves, finding them either fleeing into the woods again or whimpering at you. You laugh, ready to hunt down the mongrels that flee from your sight.

Over the next few hours before sunrise, you hunt down the remaining the werewolves. They flee into the night, but your senses mean they're incapable of escaping and your claws and teeth mean that they're never going to escape from you. Soon, your belly is full with flesh, your hair streaked with blood, and the remaining survivors of the pack finished off or having fled.

You sprint along the ground, instinct running through you as you sprint through the forest, following one of the last werewolves to have fled the scene. You're tight on her tail, ready to finish her off, before you hear a barrage of gunfire. Looking ahead, you hear a burst of gunfire, as you slide to a halt. You slam your claws into a tree and skid to a halt, your eyes staring through the trees as you find yourself staring at a werewolf being gunned down. You quickly disappear into the bushes and undergrowth, staring through as a squad of Hunters appears, no doubt looking for what happened to the rest of you.

You pause, wondering whether to try talk to them, or retreat into the woods and leave the world alone.
> You make contact with the Hunters
You slowly approach the group of hunters, head down. You take  One of the Hunters lets out a yell, as they group quickly turn around to aim at you.

"It's trying to communicate," one of the Hunters says incredulously. "It's non-hostile."

"It's must have some dregs of humanity left. Keep aim, lads!" Ernest shouts.

You pause, eyes flickering over the leader of the Hunters, wondering where you recognize him from. Some distant memory that's rapidly fading from your mind. Soon, you no longer remember his name, only recognizing his status as leader through his physical cues. The Hunters faces twist into ones of confusion and malice, but they hold fire.

"Listen to me, beast," Ernest says sternly, sighing his face. "If you can hear me, it's OK. We need to put you down. I think that we both know that. I know you did, somewhere it what remains of your soul. It's OK. It'll be OK. May God have mercy on your soul."

Feeling pain run through you, you lower your face, not able to meet his gaze as you try to decide your future.
> You let them kill you
A Well-Deserved Rest

You look down at the Hunters, your head lowering as you rest it against the cold soil, breathing heavily. The adrenaline fading from your blood, you just feel tired. Broken. Exhausted. Above all, you're ready to rest. You don't want violence. Only sleep.

The Hunters raise their weapons, aiming it at your skull as they prepare to fire. You stare at them, letting go of the hatred, anger, worry, fear and terror of the night, calming the beast within, and wait. The werewolf pack is dead. Your mission is finished. Humanity is safe. There's nothing more for you left.

The guns fire, and the silver bullets tear lupine skull and flesh, blowing apart your brain and shooting out the top of your skull. Darkness shrouds over you, and you can feel the desperate, clawing, howling beast within you get pulled down into the depths of darkness with you.

Now, the eternal rest is all that's left for you.


You slowly approach the group of hunters, head down. You take  One of the Hunters lets out a yell, as they group quickly turn around to aim at you.

"It's trying to communicate," one of the Hunters says incredulously. "It's non-hostile."

"It's must have some dregs of humanity left. Keep aim, lads!" Ernest shouts.

You pause, eyes flickering over the leader of the Hunters, wondering where you recognize him from. Some distant memory that's rapidly fading from your mind. Soon, you no longer remember his name, only recognizing his status as leader through his physical cues. The Hunters faces twist into ones of confusion and malice, but they hold fire.

"Listen to me, beast," Ernest says sternly, sighing his face. "If you can hear me, it's OK. We need to put you down. I think that we both know that. I know you did, somewhere it what remains of your soul. It's OK. It'll be OK. May God have mercy on your soul."

Feeling pain run through you, you lower your face, not able to meet his gaze as you try to decide your future.
> You flee deeper into the woods
You twist around on your legs, bursting off them in a single leap as you find yourself flying through the air, finding yourself in a sprint. The Hunters raise their weapons, a burst of bullets firing out as you leap from side to side, rushing behind the trees as bullets hit the dirt around you, splintering wood and narrowly missing you.

Still, you're faster than they could be, and with your blessings, you manage to avoid the bullets with ease. Soon, you're out of range of the gunfire, hurrying along the woods as the sound of gunfire becomes more and more distant, as you head deeper and deeper into the endless forest.

As you run, your worries, your hate, your anger burns away, as you just find yourself running, any traces of humanity being shed with each step. Mankind has rejected you. Fenrir has taken you in. You're no longer human.

You are a beast. You are a predator. You are a hunter.

You hear a few scattered howls through the forest, the answer of the surviving werewolves to your call. You howl once more, calling them to you. You have no need for Hunters anymore. You have your own predators now.


You slowly approach the group of hunters, head down. You take  One of the Hunters lets out a yell, as they group quickly turn around to aim at you.

"It's trying to communicate," one of the Hunters says incredulously. "It's non-hostile."

"It's must have some dregs of humanity left. Keep aim, lads!" Ernest shouts.

You pause, eyes flickering over the leader of the Hunters, wondering where you recognize him from. Some distant memory that's rapidly fading from your mind. Soon, you no longer remember his name, only recognizing his status as leader through his physical cues. The Hunters faces twist into ones of confusion and malice, but they hold fire.

"Listen to me, beast," Ernest says sternly, sighing his face. "If you can hear me, it's OK. We need to put you down. I think that we both know that. I know you did, somewhere it what remains of your soul. It's OK. It'll be OK. May God have mercy on your soul."

Feeling pain run through you, you lower your face, not able to meet his gaze as you try to decide your future.
> You slaughter them all
You let out a fearsome roar, bursting forward with a roar. The Hunters balk at the sound, as you dive forward, claws raised and teeth bared.

The Hunters are used to dealing with werewolves, but you're no mere werewolf. You are the champion of Fenrir. You have his strength, his speed, his abilities, his ferocity. They don't have a chance. You swing your claw, tearing through a Hunter's neck and nearly beheading him with a spurt of blood, sending them flying aside. Your maw snaps onto a Hunter's arm and tearing it off with one motion, throwing it across the earth. You dive aside, dodging a barrage of bullets. You lunge forward, tackling a Hunter and crushing her under your weight and crushing her lungs. You reach your jaws down, tearing out her throat with ease, as you stare over towards the survivors, blood dripping from your maw as you let out a low growl.

The last two Hunters turn, fleeing back towards their truck, running desperately as if they have some hope of escape. You easily race down to catch them, knocking away one of their legs and crushing his skull, before tackling the last one and slashing through her neck with your claws. Victorious, you howl towards the moon, laughter racing through you.

You look at the scene around of you, slaughtered Hunters lying dead on the ground, blood sinking into the ground. There's no place for you hear. Prey, all slaughtered like lambs.Too weak for you.

You hear a few scattered howls through the forest, the answer of the surviving werewolves to your call. You howl once more, calling them to you. You have no need for Hunters anymore. You have your own predators now.


You focus, focusing on the pain in your chest, the wound in your side, your carved up nose. You growl, finding the strength rise up inside of you, focusing on your task. You need one more drop of strength tonight. One more victory!

You dig your heels in, roaring as you toss the werewolf backwards, overcoming its strength and flipping it onto its back. As the creature collapses onto the ground, you lead forward, landing atop the creature. It howls out in pain, before you slam your claws against the creature's head with all your strength, crushing the creature's skull with one solid motion, killing it instantly.

You howl towards the moon, a noise which soon turns to laughter. You turn other werewolves, finding them either fleeing into the woods again or whimpering at you. You laugh, ready to hunt down the mongrels that flee from your sight.

Over the next few hours before sunrise, you hunt down the remaining the werewolves. They flee into the night, but your senses mean they're incapable of escaping and your claws and teeth mean that they're never going to escape from you. Soon, your belly is full with flesh, your hair streaked with blood, and the remaining survivors of the pack finished off or having fled.

You sprint along the ground, instinct running through you as you sprint through the forest, following one of the last werewolves to have fled the scene. You're tight on her tail, ready to finish her off, before you hear a barrage of gunfire. Looking ahead, you hear a burst of gunfire, as you slide to a halt. You slam your claws into a tree and skid to a halt, your eyes staring through the trees as you find yourself staring at a werewolf being gunned down. You quickly disappear into the bushes and undergrowth, staring through as a squad of Hunters appears, no doubt looking for what happened to the rest of you.

You pause, wondering whether to try talk to them, or retreat into the woods and leave the world alone.
> You retreat deeper into the woods
The Hunters wouldn't understand you. They'd never understand what you are, never trust you. They'd simply see you as a different form of beast entirely, but still something to be hunted down and killed. You are no longer one of their kind. You are one of Fenrir's children now, not Adam's.

You sprint as fast as you can, paws feeling the cold soil underneath you as the trees fly past. As you run, your worries, your hate, your anger burns away, as you just find yourself running, any traces of humanity being shed with each step. Mankind has rejected you. Fenrir has taken you in. You're no longer human.

You are a beast. You are a predator. You are a hunter.

You hear a few scattered howls through the forest, the answer of the surviving werewolves to your call. You howl once more, calling them to you. You have no need for Hunters anymore. You have your own predators now.


You focus, focusing on the pain in your chest, the wound in your side, your carved up nose. You growl, finding the strength rise up inside of you, focusing on your task. You need one more drop of strength tonight. One more victory!

You dig your heels in, roaring as you toss the werewolf backwards, overcoming its strength and flipping it onto its back. As the creature collapses onto the ground, you lead forward, landing atop the creature. It howls out in pain, before you slam your claws against the creature's head with all your strength, crushing the creature's skull with one solid motion, killing it instantly.

You howl towards the moon, a noise which soon turns to laughter. You turn other werewolves, finding them either fleeing into the woods again or whimpering at you. You laugh, ready to hunt down the mongrels that flee from your sight.

Over the next few hours before sunrise, you hunt down the remaining the werewolves. They flee into the night, but your senses mean they're incapable of escaping and your claws and teeth mean that they're never going to escape from you. Soon, your belly is full with flesh, your hair streaked with blood, and the remaining survivors of the pack finished off or having fled.

You sprint along the ground, instinct running through you as you sprint through the forest, following one of the last werewolves to have fled the scene. You're tight on her tail, ready to finish her off, before you hear a barrage of gunfire. Looking ahead, you hear a burst of gunfire, as you slide to a halt. You slam your claws into a tree and skid to a halt, your eyes staring through the trees as you find yourself staring at a werewolf being gunned down. You quickly disappear into the bushes and undergrowth, staring through as a squad of Hunters appears, no doubt looking for what happened to the rest of you.

You pause, wondering whether to try talk to them, or retreat into the woods and leave the world alone.
> You hunt! Kill! FEED!
You let out a fearsome roar, bursting forward with a roar. The human prey animals balk at the sound, as you dive forward, claws raised and teeth bared.

The Hunters are used to dealing with werewolves, but you're no mere werewolf. You are the champion of Fenrir. You have his strength, his speed, his abilities, his ferocity. They don't have a chance. You swing your claw, tearing through a Hunter's neck and nearly beheading him with a spurt of blood, sending them flying aside. Your maw snaps onto a Hunter's arm and tearing it off with one motion, throwing it across the earth. You dive aside, dodging a barrage of bullets. You lunge forward, tackling a Hunter and crushing her under your weight and crushing her lungs. You reach your jaws down, tearing out her throat with ease, as you stare over towards the survivors, blood dripping from your maw as you let out a low growl.

The last two Hunters turn, fleeing back towards their truck, running desperately as if they have some hope of escape. You easily race down to catch them, knocking away one of their legs and crushing his skull, before tackling the last one and slashing through her neck with your claws. Victorious, you howl towards the moon, laughter racing through you.

You look at the scene around of you, slaughtered Hunters lying dead on the ground, blood sinking into the ground. There's no place for you hear. Prey, all slaughtered like lambs.Too weak for you.

You hear a few scattered howls through the forest, the answer of the surviving werewolves to your call. You howl once more, calling them to you. You have no need for Hunters anymore. You have your own predators now.


You hack your claws at the creature's arm, or leg, or whatever it could be called, cutting through its flesh and muscles, tearing through hide and fur to the point where your claw is scraping against bone. The creature howls in pain, rolling off you as it retreats with its torn up limb. You pounce forward, unready to give it's a moment respite from the bloodshed.

You grab the Alpha in an embrace, forcing the creature back as its claws and arms wrap around. The two of you force your strengths against each other, each trying to push other down to tear your foe apart, but its an equal battle. Even with your gifts from Fenrir, the Alpha is an old being with a fearsome strength, and far beyond what you've dealt with before.

The two of you fight, claw and tooth, howling and roaring in the mineshaft, as you try to find everything within you you can find to win this battle.
> You escape from the embrace and retreat to a safer distance
You knock the beast back quickly, before scampering backwards to escape your foe. However, the Alpha manages to catch your snout with a powerful claw strike as you fumble back, nearly tearing your snout in two. You continue retreating backwards, but the creature lunges forward, tackling you. As you're left undefended and scampering backwards, you're practically unable to defend yourself as the creature slams you against the ground, snapping your neck with ease.


Fenrir's call having strengthened your soul and sharpened your abilities, your lupine hunting form solidified, your claws sharpened and a true feeling of power in your heart, you're ready to strike. You hurry through the mine shafts and tunnels, nostrils filled with the pungent odor of the other werewolves hiding in the tunnels.

The werewolves are easy to hunt down through the tunnels, as you slaughter them like lambs. With your abilities, you've found that you're faster, stronger and better than any you come across. They're lambs, and you're a wolf. Any werewolves caught by themselves are torn apart, clawed up or eaten, none able to escape your fury. However, these are just simple targets to take down, not the main threat. The main threat's scent is on your nose, and you're hunting him down.

You enter a large, open room of the mine shaft, and you find it emerging from the darkness.

The Alpha.

The creature stares at you with its one working eye, an eye that seems twisted by malice. It slowly prowls ahead, thin, angular body emerging from the darkness.  It lets out a bark, as the other werewolves in the mine shaft slowly part, moving back to allow you two to fight.

It's a challenge. The Alpha is challenging you for dominance, clearly aware that its position is tenuous, and that if it doesn't take down the new threat, it'll lose the respect of its pack. It's lost Fenrir's favor, and needs to regain it. You won't let it.

Kill! Slaughter! TEAR! BITE! CLAW! HACK! EAT! BLOOD! FLESH! EVISCERATE"

The werewolf lunges forward towards you, as you're left ready to take down the beast.
> You leap forward and tackle the beast
You leap forward with a howl, your full weight smashing into the Alpha as the two of you roll to the side and smack into the dirt. You grab the Alpha in an embrace, forcing the creature back as its claws and arms wrap around. The two of you force your strengths against each other, each trying to push other down to tear your foe apart, but its an equal battle. Even with your gifts from Fenrir, the Alpha is an old being with a fearsome strength, and far beyond what you've dealt with before.

The two of you fight, claw and tooth, howling and roaring in the mineshaft, as you try to find everything within you you can find to win this battle.