Garou are not creatures of mindless Rage. The five forms require cunning to use wisely, but also great physical vigor to deploy in the middle of a battle. But you know that not even this monster can stand against a werewolf in crinos form. Letting the Rage flow through you like bloody lightning, you leap, twisting through the air to avoid a scything hoof, then land on all fours and grit your teeth.
Then it's like your teeth turn inside-out, ripping through your jaw, piercing your brain. The pain is incandescent as your bones shatter and re-knit, your spine transforms, and you rise up on two legs, a nine-foot-tall walking wolf with dinner-knife claws and huge, hooked fangs. For a moment, you're both blinded by a shockwave of superheated steam as your accelerated metabolism reacts with the freezing air.
When you can both see again, the horse-thing scoffs—an oddly human sound. It's not impressed, certainly not insanely terrified, the way regular humans fear a werewolf's crinos form. It rushes you, cat-quick, fangs bared.
You twist and drive one hand up under its jaw. Your claws explode out the back of its head, smoking with brains. You both skid backwards and your clawed feet leave a furrow of snow as the monstrous thing keeps trying to move forward, mindless and implacable. But when you both stop, you wrench your hand out of its head and it drops without a sound, already dead.
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