You are in the forests of Europe, 335 million years ago.

The humid air of the Carboniferous swamp hung heavy, smelling of decay and ferns. You have just sat down on a log to rest after trekking through the ancient land, when a sudden, dry rustling sounded to your left.

Startled, you glance over to see a large scorpion, about the size of a dog and covered in a dark and red exoskeleton, that was hidden in the undergrowth and climbing over the log. It could be none other than a Pulmonoscorpius.

It wasn't attacking, not yet. But your movement had interrupted its patrol. It stopped abruptly, its eight spindly legs locking in place. The scorpion raised the front half of its body, showcasing its front large, thin pincers, and curved its tail high over its back. The bulbous stinger, thick and deadly, was directed right at your chest, poised to strike if you get too close.

It sat there in a menacing posture, vibrating slightly, its tiny, compound eyes fixed on you—a creature built for tearing apart small amphibians and reptiles, now considering you as a threat in its supposed territory.