[Apple]
The rogue wolfman’s teeth snap, dripping with saliva as I struggle to stand. My nails dig into the clay-like mud, pine needles stabbing my hands and thighs as I push away.
“Stay back,” I warn, holding up my hands. “I’m warning you!!
The rogue saunters forward slowly, taking pleasure in my struggle. He smells of rotting things, of failure and death, with yellowed teeth and chipped, cracked claws. Even in his current wolfman form, he doesn’t look as strong as he should, the strain of living without a pack slowing down all of his werewolf advantages.
His tattered clothing, hanging from his body, looks like the remnant of a nice business suit. He hasn’t always been a rogue, and by the look of him, the change has been recent. But based on how hard the experience has hit him, it is
