It was a rainy night when Jeff was driving on a forsaken forest road. The car radio was playing his favourite song and he was singing loudly along. He was not concentrating on the road too much, and noticed a large fallen tree too late to stop. He pulled the steering wheel and set out a course through the forest, not much later losing his consciousness.
When he opened his eyes slowly regaining his strength he tested his car, but it wouldn't start. He stepped out of the vehicle and looked around. The trees were dimly lit by the moon alone. He had no idea where he was.
He heard a howl in the distance which made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. Pulling his jacket tightly around him to keep out the cold that was seeping into his bones, he set off into the gloom, hoping to find some clue as to where he was. It wasn't long before he heard another howl - from a different direction, apparently in answer to the first - and then a few more sounded out, echoing ominously through the trees. His pace quickened.
Another howl, closer now. Maybe it was his imagination, but Jeff thought it sounded hungry. It was unlike any wolf cry he had ever heard, and he knew he had to hurry. He began to run, careful not to trip on any loose roots and end the hunt prematurely. For that's what it was, he realised: a hunt. And he was the intended prey.
He emerged into a clearing, strangely peaceful and silent but with a palpable aura of impending death in the air. He could almost smell the decay coming from this desolate place. Several pairs of red eyes were visible through the thin sheen of mist that obscured his sight. It was almost over now...he sighed deeply. The eyes were getting bigger, closing in.
Twisted, grotesque shapes started to become visible. They might have been wolves once, certainly, but now? Whatever demonic power had taken hold here, it had done an admirable job of transforming these creatures into a terrible caricature of themselves, with bones jutting out at awkward angles.
Jeff had heard of these creatures before, but had paid the tales little attention. They were known as Worgen, he recalled. At the time he had paid little attention to that, too. He had continued to dismiss it as an old wive's tale until the day one killed his sister, and its horrifying visage had been burned into his mind forever.
As the moon shone fully overhead and Jeff felt the first jolt of his transformation, he smiled to himself and licked a rapidly-growing fang.
Tonight, the hunters would become the hunted.
When he opened his eyes slowly regaining his strength he tested his car, but it wouldn't start. He stepped out of the vehicle and looked around. The trees were dimly lit by the moon alone. He had no idea where he was.
He heard a howl in the distance which made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. Pulling his jacket tightly around him to keep out the cold that was seeping into his bones, he set off into the gloom, hoping to find some clue as to where he was. It wasn't long before he heard another howl - from a different direction, apparently in answer to the first - and then a few more sounded out, echoing ominously through the trees. His pace quickened.
Another howl, closer now. Maybe it was his imagination, but Jeff thought it sounded hungry. It was unlike any wolf cry he had ever heard, and he knew he had to hurry. He began to run, careful not to trip on any loose roots and end the hunt prematurely. For that's what it was, he realised: a hunt. And he was the intended prey.
He emerged into a clearing, strangely peaceful and silent but with a palpable aura of impending death in the air. He could almost smell the decay coming from this desolate place. Several pairs of red eyes were visible through the thin sheen of mist that obscured his sight. It was almost over now...he sighed deeply. The eyes were getting bigger, closing in.
Twisted, grotesque shapes started to become visible. They might have been wolves once, certainly, but now? Whatever demonic power had taken hold here, it had done an admirable job of transforming these creatures into a terrible caricature of themselves, with bones jutting out at awkward angles.
Jeff had heard of these creatures before, but had paid the tales little attention. They were known as Worgen, he recalled. At the time he had paid little attention to that, too. He had continued to dismiss it as an old wive's tale until the day one killed his sister, and its horrifying visage had been burned into his mind forever.
As the moon shone fully overhead and Jeff felt the first jolt of his transformation, he smiled to himself and licked a rapidly-growing fang.
Tonight, the hunters would become the hunted.
