As they approach the whirling, madly chomping 'dogs' several of the creatures catch their scent, low and oddly hollow growls rising up as they turn to face the interloopers.  For each step Calvin takes forward, they slowly and grudgingly surrender a single pace but no more, their teeth filled maws snarling at the werewolves.<br/><br/>Entering the clearing, finer details about the large metal trailer can slowly be made out through the soupy Shadowrealm air.  Parts of the structure has melted and flowed together like water, scorch marks marring the metal, but the general shape is still clear.  A food stand, though given the stench arising it is hard to imagine what manner of sustenance it would provide.  The smell of death and decay is overpowering, the kind that is usually accompanied by rotten and bloated corpses.  Sick black ichor overflows from the serving window and from inside a haunting whisper can be heard, a child's voice singing softly to himself.<br/><br/><em>Thousands of corpses, just for me,<br/>Skin rots, eyes and hair fall out,<br/>blood boils, liver dies,<br/>Oh screams of blood do find<br/>Thousands of corpses, just for me,</em>