So much has happened since the last full moon. The moon sits between phases, yet the demons still dance as if it's still full and fat. I knew that the raid would be put off. My father seemed to be away more often since he'd obtained some mysterious belt. He only told me that the Vampires would never suspect a wolf out of its moon while they sit on their pale bossoms, slurping bloody wines from what the dare to call "silver" goblets. They claim to have no fear now, but we can still sense it after digging deep enough for it. There will be a great and bloody battle soon, and I shall not wait any longer for my father to come home with his shoulder in tatters and his eye snuffed out. I will search for one of these "magical belts", and I am sure Thorden will be pleased with it. He has long wished for a way to slink from his human presence. I have heard many a wives' tale of what they call a "Black Market". It sits deep in the oldest of ruins where bony men with matted beards and dirt encrusted nails sell their items of black magic. Black magic is no proper way for me to come by something, but what must be done shall be. I will stay out of trouble with the first, if I succeed. I will present it to Thorden, and I hope, in return, he shall reward me equally as well. As I turn these thoughts over in my cunning skull, I am here, traveling muddy roads to the darkest of places. I have come with the fangs of many Vampires, for I hear they are worthy to their kind. I even have pelts that they consider sacred, and lumps of gold washed in blood. I will do whatever to hopefully prevent misfortune among my kin. A splash of a muddy-brown puddle interrupts me for a moment, and I can only do what's logical, and suppose it is only myself. I trudge on, entering the dark canopy of gnarled trees, their heavy branches threatening to choke out the sun. Do what they like with the sun, I'm not sure how much I care for it. Closer and closer I draw, and I can feel something not quite right. It as if something that was originally in good fun, has turned to something serious and, possibly, wrong. Strange smells of sharp incense sting my nose as they begin to weave the spell that they most certainly are gifted with. I stop and sniff. Something has slightly failed to hide itself, and I fear that it shall be sorry when it finally dares to show itself to me. I spot something in the canopy of the trees, but certainly it is no Vampire. They are cursed with the sleep of the dead by sunlight, but I suppose a half-Vampire would be able to withstand some amount of it if it only stayed in shadow, but they are as rare as silver in a werewolf's dwelling. I shake my head, and continue, but slowly. I can see the place, not far off, in a break at the end of the canopy. It sits like a dark presence against the purple sky of early morning. I reach the end of the canopy that tried ever so hard to warn me away, but I was not one to scare away too easily. The boldness of the moon's magic has been carefully woven into my corrupted self. There are torches with blue fire, casting strange shadows that look close to what I may find inside. The black form of the door rested in the bulkiness of the ancient building. I came close to the door, and did not so much as lift my hand when the door was swung open on rusted, screeching hinges. A strangely stooped figure rolled a large eye up at me. It was a strange, emerald green in color. A long, beak-like nose stuck out from his face, over little pursed lips with bits of soft whiskers. "Yeessssssss?" he hissed out. I only looked at him. Who was he to think I of all beings would dare to answer him. "Oh, so you only wish to glare at me with a silent tongue. Very well, young stranger, I can tell you are a wolf, so I suppose I should shoo you away, but then you'd rip my throat out if I did." He saw my packages. "Ooh! You have goodies?" I narrowed my eyes, and pushed him aside with a loud snort. "Ugh. You are a most foul little wolf, yet you seem so great to others," he said as he brushed the dirt off himself. I caught him flaring his nostrils, and poking his tongue out at me as I left.
I entered the dark and ominous building, the dancing light of the blue falmes falling behind me.  It seemed that I was in a long, stone hallway.  There was no torch, but I could see a glow pulsing from the end.  I glanced around me, not sure what I would see in the darkness.  I began to hear voices as I came closer.  Some were the loud, slurred speach of a drunk, others were the more quiet murmurs of a more contained group, and I could even hear the barely detectable noise of a whisper here and there as they irregularly pulsed out, vibrating at a low frequency.  I came closer still, and considered turning back, but I pressed on, and a dark figure suddenly blocked to hallway, the light playing around the edges of its form.
"You," was all it said as it hurriedly took a hold of my wrist, tugging at my arm.