Follyshock enterered a small village deep in the Kishahn Jungle. All was peaceful. Native forest folk delved through crates of herbs and pelt, looking for the best produce freshly wrought from the environment around them. Children played tag, running behind and around straw and timber huts, laughing loudly, enjoying the beautiful sunshine. Elderly men sat, watching the kids play, egging them on to run faster. Women in leather hung out deerskin clothing of husbands and sons to dry in the beating sun.
Follyshock had come home, after days of hunting deer in the valleys. He returned to his hut on the north side of the village. He immediately slept when he hit his feather down pillow.
***
Follyshock awoke to the sounds of screaming. He jumped up immediately, and ran outside. His village was burned, the women raped, the children driven out. Follyshock spotted a bushy night black tail disappear from a tree.
Werewolves.
Follyshock called out. "Are there any fighting men, hunters, who will help me take on these marauders?" There was silence, until the goblin got a reply.