A Gathering of Worgen
The cool fingers of night's wind glide through your fur, tossing it gently in her breeze. Dew-soaked lips dance along your shoulders to whisper distant echos of jubilant yips and fervid howls that ring in the surrounding mists. The forest floor soaks your footsteps in silence as they traverse her wild paths. The nightcreatures, above and below, stand careful watch over their visitor, accompanying you on your path to the circle. Their chittering songs enrich the flutes and soulful drums that befall your ears.
Draw closer, and soon the firelight paints black shadows across your form. Through the foliage you spot silhouettes of large, wolf-like creatures carousing in their lust for life around a central bonfire of gold flames licking to the skies atop glittering cinders. Even the Trees sway gently in their moaning rhythm to the pounding drums that so animated the forest heartbeat.
The smell of flora, meat, herbs, blood and smoke infiltrates your nose and crawls into the depths of your skull. Can you feel your hair prickling? Can you taste the salted sea breeze on your tongue, can you feel the warmth of the fire? Hands among the group are raised. Cupped in their palms are bowls of silvery white substance poured slowly over the flames, which hiss and shriek their ardor. The pearly smoke twisted violently, reaching to the sky above in undisciplined fervor. And from it was born a wolf of stars and smoke that ran breathlessly across the blanket of stars, dissipating into the moonlight.
A pair of eyes from the crowd turn to settle on you. Their shine searches you, daring your feet to draw you closer.