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.