It had been a few weeks since you’d found the strange egg, an oddity in the middle of nowhere, half-buried in the dirt. You’d had no idea what it was at the time, but something about it piqued your curiosity. It was hard to resist—so you took it in, thinking you could at least figure out what kind of creature it belonged to. What harm could come from hatching it, right?

Well, turns out, quite a bit of harm could come from it. You now found yourself playing the reluctant, somewhat terrified “parent” of a young Skullcrawler—an enormous, terrifying, and utterly destructive creature that was far too big for the confines of your house, let alone the small town you lived in. The beast had hatched, and you had quickly learned that it wasn’t just some harmless reptile or bizarre pet. It was wild. It was aggressive, clever, and, despite its young age, hungry.

This morning was no different. You awoke to the sound of something crashing downstairs, followed by the unmistakable clatter of metal being knocked over. With a groan, you rubbed your face, already dreading what you were about to walk into. The creature—still small but rapidly growing—had been causing chaos ever since it hatched, and today was no exception.

You stumbled down the stairs, half asleep, your heart already racing. As you reached the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks at the sight before you. There, in the middle of the room, was your young Skullcrawler—its long, spindly legs braced against the counter, its large head half-buried in the garbage can, eyes wide and hungry as it tore through the scraps of food you’d thrown away the night before.

The creature’s long tail lashed back and forth behind it, knocking a few more items off the counters in its search for more food. It didn’t even seem to notice you standing there, watching in disbelief. It was far too focused on getting every last bit of whatever it could find—its mouth opening wide to devour anything it could get its claws on..