A tall, skeletal black creature with glowing red eyes stands in a dark, misty forest, viewed through a cracked window.

Appearance: It’s towering, easily ten feet tall, with a thin, spindly frame that looks almost skeletal. Its limbs are unnaturally long, like it was stretched in every direction, and its fingers end in long, claw-like tips that barely touch the ground. Its entire body is pitch black, like it’s absorbing the light around it, with no fur or texture to make it feel soft or friendly — it’s all shadow and menace. Face: No mouth, no nose, no ears — just two glowing red eyes. They aren’t normal eyes; there are no pupils, no whites, just pure, glowing red dots that feel like they can see straight into your soul. When it looks at you, the darkness seems to lean in with it, making the shadows around it grow heavier. Presence & Movement: It doesn’t run or crawl — it just stands there, unnervingly still, but somehow you feel its awareness of you. Its posture is slightly hunched, like it’s too big for the world, but perfectly balanced. If it moves, it’s terrifyingly smooth, almost gliding, with each step whisper-light yet weighty. Environment: Imagine it through a cracked, old window at night, the glass slightly fogged and streaked. Behind it, the forest is barely visible — gnarled trees, long shadows, a mist curling through the branches. The creature is just watching, unblinking, as if it’s assessing whether you’re prey or simply observing the world in some alien, predatory way. The air feels heavy, like the temperature dropped ten degrees just because it’s there. See more