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“When you’ve eaten Talonshrike’s eyes, you should be able see Garwal and rip out his throat! Night Elf-thing, seek out and slay Garwal in the western Rivenwood. After you have killed him, go and tell Moonleaf that I am once more the alpha worg!”
-Ulfang
Ulfang has asked you to slay Garwal. Then, return the Worg Disguise to Watcher Moonleaf at Steel Gate.

You will be able to choose one of these rewards:
Upon completion of this quest you will gain:
Quest Giver: Ulfang — Cave in northwest Rivenwood, Howling Fjord [29.5, 5.8]
Turn In: Watcher Moonleaf — Steel Gate [30, 28.6]
Objective: Slay Garwal in the western Rivenwood, then return the Worg Disguise to Watcher Moonleaf at Steel Gate.
Quick Facts
Walkthrough
Finding Garwal
The Fight (This Is the Big Reveal)
Turn-In: Watcher Moonleaf (Not Ulfang)
Tips
Lore Context
This is the climax of the Ulfang chain and one of WotLK’s best small-scale reveals. Everything Ulfang described as “unnatural” about Garwal is confirmed in one dramatic moment: he was never a worg at all.
He was a worgen hiding in plain sight, using magical disguise to infiltrate and seize control of the Fanggore pack.
Moonleaf’s completion text lays out the mystery and plants a seed: “Garwal was not a worg at all! That thing you describe him turning into sounds a lot like a worgen! But, Ulfang said that it came south from the Grizzly Hills? Odd, there aren’t any worgen there.”
But there are. Players who continue into Grizzly Hills discover the Wolfcult, an army of worgen led by the resurrected Archmage Arugal.
The Lich King’s San’layn princes raised Arugal from the dead and sent him to Grizzly Hills to convert trapper villages like Silverbrook into worgen loyal to the Scourge. The entire Sasha questline in Grizzly Hills (culminating in Hour of the Worg, where you kill the Shade of Arugal on Bloodmoon Isle) connects directly back to what Moonleaf found so puzzling here.
Garwal was almost certainly one of Arugal’s agents, sent south to extend the Wolfcult’s influence beyond Grizzly Hills.
Cross-Expansion Lore
Moonleaf’s comment that worgen are unfamiliar creatures connects to the broader pre-Cataclysm story.
At this point in the timeline, most people in Azeroth don’t know what worgen are or where they came from. The full truth, that worgen are cursed night elf druids created during the War of the Satyr, only becomes common knowledge after the worgen of Gilneas join the Alliance in Cataclysm.
Moonleaf sensing something is wrong, but not having the full picture, is a perfect example of WotLK quietly setting up plot threads that wouldn’t pay off until the next expansion.
Explore Howling Fjord’s hidden easter eggs, lore mysteries, and connections across Warcraft history in Vikstone’s Howling Fjord Chronicles, along with the complete quest storyline.
Vikstone's War JournalWestern Rivenwood held its breath. The forest knew something walked here that didn’t belong.

Talonshrike’s eyes burned in my skull, her sacrifice granting sight that cut through shadow and illusion. Where there had been nothing, Garwal now stood. He was larger than any worg I had tracked and his fur was darker than natural, and when he looked at me, the intelligence behind those eyes belonged to nothing on four legs.
The spikes of my mace found his flank but he twisted, despite his bulk, and his jaws snapped shut where my arm had been. I pressed the attack, driving him back through the undergrowth.
Then his body betrayed its lie. “Enough of this charade!”
The voice tore from a throat reshaping itself mid-word. Fur rippled like water over stones as bones cracked and reformed beneath the skin. His spine curved upward. Forelimbs stretched into arms ending in claws like curved daggers. The worg’s muzzle elongated into something that could speak, could reason, could hate.
Worgen.
My people had seen this curse before, in another age. But knowing changed nothing. The creature lunged, and we crashed together through rotting logs and frozen earth. His claws found my armor, opening lines of fire across my ribs. I caught his wrist, barely, and drove my knee into his chest, making enough space to swing.
The mace caved his skull on the third blow.
The corpse crumpled. As the last breath left it, the worgen’s shape melted away, leaving only a dead worg sprawled in the mud.
Watcher Moonleaf would want to know about this. A worgen from Grizzly Hills, she would say. But there aren’t any worgen there.
There was now. And where there was one, there would be others.
One piece of unfinished business waited back on the Chillmere Coast, where Old Icefin sat on his island offshore and his son’s Trident of the Son lay somewhere in the water below him.