Into the Night…

Rain falls down hard from dark clouds lit from the city below. Upon tin rooftops of the warehouses the rain makes a matalic hiss. in the ally between two such werehouses forms move in the chaotic dance of combat. Claws rend flesh and jaws rip out chunks of flesh, spraying blood and fat upon the walls dripping down upon the ally floor.

Eventually, only one form remains standing, panting hard and bleeding. Into the sky an inhuman howl echoes out into the rain soaked night. Another foe has fallen, the Hunt goes well…

War on All Fronts…

The Dormant Mountain Pack is dead, betrayed by one of their own to the fearful Bale Hounds. The surviving members have scattered to the four winds. Now a new order must emerge into the night bore aloft upon the bodies of their enemies. New Packs have come to help claim this new destiny, the war council has begun.