Werewolf!

Your muscly body gives a silvery grey shine under the pale moonglow. You shake your thick black neck mane and breathe in the glistening nightly air. So many beating hearts out there tonight. So many eager maws out for blood. But you would always claim this lush, green ravine as your own. You, John, would always claim your prize, night by night, for as long as your pale companion above would douse the ground beneath your feet in terrible shadow. Your bloodline has been tainted, with rogue half-bloods prowling your territories in rivalry against its rightful king. But you are the last full-blooded descendant of Zarkha, the Relentless. You will teach the creatures of this forest to submit to you. You call to the moon in a shrieking howl. "Rakh-Asth-Vhalyann!", and it grants your wish. Fueled with raging arcane power, you take off from your sanctuary and shake the ground with thundering paws.