Darkness settles once again over the weathered boughs of the Silver Forest. The night life stirs. Wolves begin their hunt for prey, but they are not the only beasts on the prowl. Something ancient awakens that has not been woken since before the land was first settled. It is a nameless fear. Folk living in the nearby villages tell fairy stories to the children about a horned beast with ten inch claws and fangs the size of your arms.
"He's covered in rusted fur," they say. "His eyes are orange and glow in the darkness. Don't let him catch you or he'll take you to his cave in the woods and lock you and make you his slave. And that is if you are lucky. If he is hungry enough ( and he usually is) he will take you in his giant claws and rip you to shreds with his teeth to be put in his cauldron that he stirs every night like an old witch."
Poor old, stupid villagers. Their almost too dumb for their own good. The monster in the woods was not what they thought it was, and they lived without fear of the Shadow Beast. This would be their undoing, for when the Shadow Beast Walks all light flees in terror.
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