In the cavernous depths of the dungeon, the S-Ranks stood poised against the dreadful presence of the "Shambling Mound", a hulking, grotesque abomination of flesh, bone, and dark magic.
The creature stood over fifteen feet tall, its hunched form held together by the flimsy strength of ancient magic, twisted sinews, and frayed strands of sinewy flesh.
Its face was a mask of desiccated skin, stretched over a skull that seemed to be locked in a horrific, silent scream.
As the Shambling Mound lumbered towards the S-Ranks, a tense silence fell over the chamber.
Ash, his blade held high, eyed the creature with calculated precision. "Circle around it," he commanded, his voice steady and firm. "Keep its attention divided."
Thane, bristling at the suggestion that Ash was giving them orders, muttered under his breath, "And who died and made him boss?"
Freyda, sensing the tension, gave Thane a fierce look, her rapier gleaming in the dim light.
