As battles rage between the Banners over the nearby bridges, it appears my only way across the Niben River may be a makeshift bridge found at the Lunar Fang docks; although it looks as though it has been rebuilt more times then the gates of Orsinium. I spy figures moving about amongst the crates upon the wharf. Obviously this dock is still very much in operation, but by whom?

I decide to chance this rickety bridge rather then risk running afoul of any Aldmeri or Ebonheart parties, but no sooner had I begun crossing then I became aware of the rather pungent musty smell of wet dogs; I am soon to discover why. Hoping to sneak past unnoticed, I stealthy approach the people working upon the wharf, but they sense my presence without first seeing me. As they turn towards me, each starts a grisly and grotesque transformation from ordinary man and mer into werewolf.

It is not often werewolf packs choose to reveal their ‘gifts’ in the open so readily. There was the Greycloak mercenaries of course, who rampaged across the central wastelands of Craglorn, and back in Glenumbra the area between Aldcroft and Camlorn was practically overrun. But most smaller werewolf packs I encounter choose to hide themselves away in caves and delves. What is most impressive about this pack at the Lunar Fang Docks is that they appear to have mastered their ‘gift’, seemingly able to transform at will. I suspect news of their talent would be very much of interest to the villagers of Kerbol’s Hollow, back in Bangkorai.

Just what this pack are doing here or who they are doing it for will alas have remain a mystery for now, for each choose to die by my blade rather then give up their secrets. They say that there is no beast more savage than a raging werewolf, and whilst that may be true, for they indeed gain in both strength and ferocity, their rage seems to cost them any natural sense of self preservation. How grievous the consequences of their ‘gift’ seem to be.

S.K