On his pilgrimage to the Den in the Forest of Fog, an amber-eyed elf with a dirt in his face an his armor and cloak well worn and torn by days on the road begins to listen carefully to the sound of the forest and people that have been hit by the attacks.
He seeks out the places of the crimes and sees to what he can do, appearing untouched by what happened at first.
But at night, he sits down for meditation and revery, a whispered prayer to the Prince of Wolves flows over his lips, the words spoken in elvish joining the sounds of the forrest unheared to careless and even close listeners.
Folian S'Pae, Prince of Fang and Claw, please guide the souls of those murdered through your realm and adopt them to your pack so that they may roam the hunting grounds with you.
Folian S'Pae, Graymane, please give me cunning and strength and luck on the hunt for those that violated the peace of pack and forest. The first kill shall be yours to claim.
Folian S'Pae, Longstrider and fierce stalker, let me be your wolf from the shadows and hunter so I might lead my companions on the right track. Let us act as a pack to bring the Dark Enemy down. Let us stalk and hunt them and chase them before us in fear.
Folian S'Pae, Prince of Fang and Claw, I am not of Ulam nor known among your followers. This ranger needs your help and guidance, and offers his skills and fangs and claws in return.