You are in the scrublands of South Africa, 260 million years ago.

The air in the basin was thick and stifling, smelling of damp, volcanic earth. You crouched behind a cycad, checking your surroundings. A heavy, rhythmic thump, crunch, thump was heard—almost sounded like someone was walking with heavy boots in soft mud.

Slowly, you pushed aside a massive fern leaf. There, not ten feet away, was a Moschops.

It was massive, easily nine feet long, looking like a terrifying mix of a calf and a reptile, with thick, muscled legs holding its bulky body just off the ground. Its face was stubby and strange, lacking the sleek ferocity of a predator. Instead, it had a truly "terrible head"—an unnaturally thick, rounded dome of bone.

You watched, mesmerized, as it ignored you entirely, using its beak-like mouth to tear mouthfuls of lush ferns. Then, another Moschops stepped out from behind a rocky outcrop. They didn’t fight; they didn't even grunt. They simply stood side-by-side, chewing slow, methodical bites, seemingly content in their slow-paced existence.

You realized then that this was a creature that didn't need to be fast. With that armored skull, it likely didn't need to fear much, either…