"Check it out," one of the bolder Ratmen said, grabbing a rusted dagger from his belt. He crept cautiously toward the source of the noise, his senses heightened as he moved through the shadowed tunnels of the underground. His claws scraped the damp stone floor as he approached a large pile of waste, his eyes squinting to peer through the thick, murky air.
Suddenly, something moved.
It was subtle at first—just a ripple in the waste, as though something beneath the surface had shifted. The Ratman froze, his heart racing. A moment later, the surface of the waste seemed to swell, and without warning, something emerged from the filth.
A small, spindly leg, sleek and black like polished onyx, shot out from beneath the waste. The ratman staggered backward, eyes wide in terror, as more legs began to crawl out—thin, sharp, and disturbingly long. The creature that rose from the sludge was a twisted amalgamation of ogre and spider, its body drenched in filth but unmistakably powerful.
