LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

In a dilapidated building far from Lyerin's recent struggle, seven people gathered in a dimly lit room, one could see their faces were tense and their eyes were wild with desperation.

The stench of sweat and fear hung heavy in the air as they faced each other, hands trembling on the triggers of their guns.

The variety of firearms reflected their scattered pasts, each one clinging to their weapon as if it were their last shred of hope.

On the far side, a man in a dirty, tattered coat held a rusty old shotgun, its barrel worn but still deadly. Next to him, a woman gripped an M16 with a custom paint job, the camouflage pattern chipped away by years of harsh use.

Another man, his face gaunt and eyes hollow, wielded a Desert Eagle, the polished chrome glinting ominously in the dim light. A younger man, barely out of his teens, clutched an AK-47, its wooden stock scarred and splintered.

Beside him, a woman with short-cropped hair had a Glock 19, her hands shaking as she pointed it at the others.

There was also an older man, his face lined with years of hardship, holding a sawed-off shotgun, the cut-down barrels making it look even more menacing. Finally, a burly man, his muscles rippling beneath his torn shirt, had an old-school revolver, each chamber visibly loaded.

The room was a powder keg waiting to explode.

Each person stood on edge, and their fingers were twitching dangerously close to pulling the triggers. The argument had started small but quickly escalated into a volatile exchange of accusations and threats.

"I know you took the food, Kyle!" the woman with the Glock spat, her voice trembling with rage. "You've been sneaking around since yesterday!"

Kyle, the young man with the AK-47, snarled back, his eyes wide and paranoid. "I didn't take shit, Karen! If anyone's hiding something, it's you and that damn M16 of yours! Probably traded the food for more ammo!"

"Like hell I did!" Karen shouted, taking a step forward, her finger inching closer to the trigger. "Don't you dare accuse me when you're the one who's been acting suspicious all week!"

The older man with the sawed-off shotgun growled, his voice like gravel. "Why don't we stop pointin' fingers and start searchin'? Someone's lyin', and I'm not gonna starve 'cause of some sneaky bastard!"

"You'll get your search, old man," the burly man with the revolver barked, his deep voice reverberating through the room. "But if I find out any of you have been holding out on us, I swear I'll put a bullet in your head myself."

The tension crackled in the air, thick and suffocating.

Each word was a spark threatening to ignite the firestorm.

The woman with the M16 stepped forward, her voice a deadly whisper. "We don't need a search. We need to figure out who's lying, and then we can deal with them properly."

"You mean kill them, don't you?" Kyle retorted, his voice cracking with fear and anger. "That's what you all want, isn't it? To pick us off one by one!"

"Shut up!" the man with the Desert Eagle roared, his voice booming through the room. "We're all in this together, or have you forgotten? We need that food, and if we don't find out who's got it, we're all dead!"

The argument reached a fever pitch, voices overlapping in a cacophony of threats, curses, and accusations. Each person's finger hovered over the trigger, the threat of violence hanging by a thread.

Suddenly, a wet splatter echoed through the room, silencing them instantly.

Plat!

The sound came from the window behind the group.

Slowly, as if afraid of what they might see, they turned their heads toward the source of the noise.

Sticking to the outside of the window, illuminated by the faint light filtering through the cracked glass, was a creature that defied reason. It was vaguely human-shaped, but its limbs were twisted in grotesque angles, bent in directions no human body could ever go. Its skin was mottled and pale, veins of black ichor running beneath the surface like cracks in a broken mirror.

The creature's head was misshapen, lacking a nose and mouth, with only three bulging eyes set in its skull, black as the void.

From its sockets, mouth, and ears, a viscous black liquid oozed, staining the glass with every droplet. It hung there, pressed against the window, as if it had been splattered like an insect against a car windshield.

"What the hell is that?" Karen whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of terror and disbelief.

The man with the sawed-off shotgun narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "It looks like a Flesher… but different. How the hell did it get up there?"

"Climbed, maybe?" suggested the woman with the Glock, her eyes wide with fear.

"But how? Fleshers don't do that!" Kyle protested, his voice rising with panic. "That thing… it's not right. It's not like any Flesher I've seen!"

"Shut up!" the burly man growled, his voice quivering with barely contained fear. "It doesn't matter what it is! It's here, and it's watching us!"

They all raised their guns, pointing them at the creature, their hands shaking.

The creature's eyes seemed to follow their every movement.

For a moment, the room was filled with the sound of ragged breathing and the click of safety switches being released.

Then, suddenly, the creature opened its maw—a wide, gaping void where a mouth should have been.

From deep within, a horrific scream erupted, a sound so loud and piercing that it seemed to reach into their very souls.

"Aaaaaarrgh!"

The scream wasn't just a sound—it was a force, a wave of invisible energy that tore through the room, shattering glass, splintering wood, and disintegrating the very air around them.

The frequency hit them like a hammer to the skull.

The people dropped their guns as their hands flew to their ears, their faces contorted in agony as if something was drilling into their brains.

The guns fell in slow motion, their heavy metal clattering to the ground, rendered useless by the sonic assault.

The windows, already cracked and weakened, exploded outward in a shower of glass shards that rained down like deadly confetti.

The walls shook, and the creature, no longer confined to the window, slid into the room with a sickening thud, its twisted limbs dragging behind it as it moved toward them. Its eyes, all three of them, locked onto the terrified survivors, its presence an overwhelming force of dread and malice.

As the group struggled to regain their senses, another figure emerged from the shadows—a Tentatorn, its three legs pounding the floor with each step.

The creature was a monstrosity of thorns and spikes, its body armored in a shell of hardened flesh, with tendrils whipping through the air.

The Tentatorn's eyes glowed with an unnatural light as it charged at the intruder.

The humans were shocked, another? Where did it come from?

The room became a battlefield as the Tentatorn lunged at the Unknown Eldritch Flesher, its thorns slicing through the air with terrifying speed.

The Flesher twisted its deformed limbs, dodging the Tentatorn's attack with unnatural agility.

It retaliated with a swipe of its clawed hand, raking across the Tentatorn's side and tearing through its armored flesh. Black blood sprayed across the room, splattering the walls and floor.

The Tentatorn roared in pain but didn't back down. It lashed out with its tendrils, wrapping them around the Flesher's limbs and pulling with all its might.

The two creatures were locked in a deadly embrace, each one trying to rip the other apart.

The survivors could only watch in horror as the battle raged before them, the air thick with the stench of blood and death.

But despite the Tentatorn's ferocity, the Unknown Eldritch Flesher proved to be the stronger of the two. With a sickening crunch, it tore one of the Tentatorn's legs clean off, sending the creature crashing to the floor.

The Flesher didn't stop there—it pounced on the fallen Tentatorn, its twisted limbs hammering down with relentless fury until the Tentatorn lay still, its body broken and lifeless.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The survivors managed to recover their guns, their hands shaking as they pointed them once more at the victorious Flesher. But just as they were about to fire, the creature let out another scream—a scream even more devastating than the first.

The sound wave hit them like a tidal wave, tearing the guns from their hands once more and sending them sprawling to the ground.

As the Flesher advanced, its intent to kill clear in its twisted, oozing form, the survivors felt the icy grip of despair tighten around their hearts.

They were helpless, their weapons useless, and their bodies paralyzed with fear.

But then, just as the Flesher was about to strike, a loud bang echoed through the room.

The creature's head snapped back, and in an instant, its three eyes were separated from its body.

The headless corpse stood there for a moment, swaying on its twisted legs, before collapsing heap on the floor slowly creating a small thud!!