"You have undoubtedly felt the rage in the Change, have you not? The urge to throw everything away and hunt until blood drips form your maw, and your claws tear the flesh open for your meal. Some fight it. Some succumb to it, and become another horror, no different that the others we have fought. I too, once felt these things, but rather than fight it or give in, I accepted it as a part of myself, and -used- it. Rather than speak of human and beast, of We, there is only I, and I am in charge of myself. As proof of this, I have not been able to Change, to return to my birth form since before your father was born. I find myself forever bound to the form you see before you. Yet it is still Me and in that I am satisfied.

Now don't misunderstand me, cub. We are indeed monsters, but that doesn't mean we have to be Monsters. There are far more of those among the humans that they will ever know. And that is why the highest calling is to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Both from the horrors outside, as well as the darkness within. The Light is purity of purpose, of emotion. The Light did not forsake me then, and it does not do so now, as long as I remain true to myself and our cause. The urge to hunt is part and parcel of who we are, but rather than mindless slaughter, we can turn this to the betterment of all. Hunt the Monsters, and bring them to justice. Good is not all roses and wine, and sometimes the best choice to fight a Monster, is with a monster.

Now, our kind's bond with the Green Man does have its price. I've guided your pack for a long time, but I am still His creature and one day He will claim me for his Hunting Grounds. I feel that time drawing closer, even now. But I still remember my promise to your grandfather's grandfathers, and if you or your kin need me, simply return here, to our enclave on the borders of his Realm. I will be here, if any of you need me.

Now, let us speak of better things! I have not been into town for some time. Does old Cranjo still make those delicious cookies? And what about that silver-furred grandaughter of his? Don't think I didn't see the glances you two were giving each other at the last Hunter's Feast... I'm old, not blind!"

My werewolf paladin, Lunaria Valeris, at the ripe old age of 156. Her kind tend to live long lives due to their enhanced self-healing - particularly when you're permanently in full werewolf form. Imperial Werewolves don't live forever though, and even now she can hear the distant call of the Hunting Grounds. Someday soon, she will pass on as well, but promises she has made, and promises she will keep.

Even now, she acts as advisor to a small werewolf community. While childless, she looks after their cubs as her own, and discreetly assists the town council in matters where her abilities yet prove useful. The pack's dual nature and her own presence is an open secret among the town's residents, and any who would not accept such creatures as neighbors are quietly encouraged to move along. Likewise, any werewolves who succumb to the bloodlust are dealt with as well. Though aged, Lunaria's body remains as strong as it was in her youth, and the Holy Light continues to answer her needs, so she often takes this sad duty upon herself. After all, what is one more burden among several lifetimes worth of burdens?

Art is by FellFallow