Images of fleshy corpses flash before your eyes as you scamper across the countryside looking for things to kill, nearly on all fours. Your acquired werewolf muscles burn with energy, and your werewolf eyes are sharp and focused. You're ready to take anything on.
Mist descends as you arrive in a wooded hollow. Ahead of you, lone lanterns swing in the wind, carrying voices from nearby. There's a town in these woods, and you drink in the odor of sweat and blood and incence.