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The word to describe him would be 'crafted', but just as importantly would be 'hamstrung', or perhaps God was winging it when it came time to bring him into being. A natural end point of any Monster giving every inch of their body, every aspect of their soul, in the pursuit of fighting against Humanity's gaze. The constant and violent decompilation of the self, in pursuit of some abstract Greater Good. When your entire life is dedicated against fighting the lie however, you have to ask yourself what is even left to participate in that fight? Who are you actually? Is there a You left? The Creature answers this by constructing himself quite literally.

What is the material in which this composer has assembled his piece? Well, he has composed himself of various parts of corpses he's come across, each in various states of decay. This leads to an ungodly cacophony of colours, an absolute grandma's checked blanket of a man as his skin changes from various shades of red, blue, green and gray. But he would tell you this was Good Actually. All a part of his design in fact, cursed with a fixation of masculinity, instilled in him by a father who lost his life chasing that wretched humanity, the creature too is inspired by the same fallacy. Every part the creature has chosen for his body was hand-picked, hoping it could bring him closer. His right arm being disproportionately larger than his left, as building his right with buff corpses was a work in progress. An anthropomorphic WIP? Apt.

Every second not spent asserting what he is to the world is another chance for someone to interpret that on his behalf. He heard that's what got his da, a lifetime of jumping between British education institutions filling in them gaps on his behalf created a creature devoid of agency. But he was Kreatur, at least that's his name for now. He wanted to be a positive change for the world around him, specifically for monsters. He wants to be able to throw down with any humans harassing monsters just getting on with their lives, to be able to crash head first into any monster's troubles and smash stuff until it's solved. To leave a room better than when he entered it.

To see that change, that's the only proof he has that he's alive.

Kreatur reflects on this as twirls the stitches on his right arm, barely keeping each section of the corpses together. One of his companions observes.

-Pick at that anymore the whole thing'll fall off mate.

The creature looks up realising he's been zoning out for the last few minutes, to see a flaming skull popping out of an open grey leather jacket, covering a poet shirt. The Creature gives the Revenant named Calmet (She/Her) a wave as he drops his head down again, this time noticing her slowly taping the heel of her buckled boot on the back wall, slowly flicking sparks across the floor as flames protrude from the end of her trouser leg where typically shins would be. The Creature has gotten into the habit of being captivated by the light show for a socially unacceptable amount of time, so decides to hoist his head up again.

He sees that alongside the Revenant, the other drinking buddies of The Creature can be seen playing cards on the other side of the bench, still! On the right was Walker (he/him) a pale little thing of rotting flesh, covered in a fake fur coat and a t-shirt barely holding together if not for a safety pin and a button. If you juussttt squint and also can perceive the dead, you'll spot the spirit operating the body hovering just above as The Creature could see; attempting the impossible task of gripping the cards and making their play like operating a mecha with puppet strings. On the left was Eurynomos (it/its), a similarly saggy flesh thing of a blueish hue, smoking what could be its 50th back to back cigarette as it holds its cards, all in service of trying to mask the corpse based diet on its breath. Despite belonging to a family of chthonic gods, the thing has somehow ended up in the smokers of a Monster pub, proper Wanna Be Like Common Monsters type. Which is why they invite them to play cards and distribute its wealth honestly.

Lets not use the term "The Corpse Crew", let's not say "The Big Dead Boys About", let's not say "The Lads Who Once Knew The Warmth Of a Tear Running Down Their Cheek On A Winter's Eve, Only Now Replaced With Stillness, Ash and A Ever Lasting Anxiety Of a Slow Decent Into The Void" like let's not SAY that, but like... Yeah. The Creature can't help but go straight back to twirling his own stitch work. Everyone present are lives with no dedicated vessels of their own, trying to keep themselves together, quite literally, on the leftovers of the recently departed. Manifesting simply on those who were allowed to live long and comfortable lives. The Creature can't help but wonder if it's simple realtiles like this which influences his aspirations. But that thinking is for people who think, ones who quite literally have brains, so he supposes doesn't have to do that anymore. Walker ends up taking the game despite being three misplaced muscle movements from his spirit away from dropping his hand and blowing it.

-Remember loser buys this round Creech, reminds Camlet

-Yeah yeah, I'm going. Replies Kreatur as he gets up from the bench.

The Creature prepares to place his arm flat on the table to raise himself out of his seat. If he just put the entire weight on the wrist, it tends to snap and pierce through the flesh he finds. After slowly completing the ritual, he gets everyone's orders and heads to the bar, being sure to tip toe around the heaters in smokers: Again, not great for the seam integrity.

As The Creature heads up to the bar to make sure his wallet feels the full brunt of his forfeit, he notices the patron sitting next to him. Drenched in a black cape with a fur collar, concealing her shoulders, you'd think her human if not for the little tells only monsters can perceive, little tells in the mannerisms, their aura and also the bloodied human skull of her last victim she wears around her waist as a trophy is also something of a 'tell'. A vampire The Creature reckons, again based on subtle knowledge and the martini glass filled with human blood which you can smell from anywhere in the room: Subtle tells, subtle. Feeling himself with his newly constructed guns, The Creature reckoned he might give it a go y'know? Ask how she's doing. But as he's entertaining the idea he notices something, a white silhouette starts heading towards her from the seats in the back.

The Hounds Of Tyre is a monster bar, but it's never been expressly militant in enforcing that, I mean, in some ways how do you enforce that? Do you turn away anyone who looks human, well what about monsters like the lady at the bar there? Some monster bars still would do so anyways, but The Hound is way too important of a landmark for Monsters to participate in such base gatekeeping, like what are they, Human? But that means on some days, espec quiet nights like tonight, the staff look the other way with the odd human or two coming in, still income innit? Usually they don't cause any fuss and know their position and that this isn't their space.

This clearly wasn't gonna be a usual however. Well he's a usual in a sense, the usual human that's a threat to every Monsters who knows, but just "A nice lad" to those who would believe the lie of humanity. Gammon skinned, shitty gel'd hair and the little crocodile on the polo that lets you know he will murder any monster that doesn't tolerate his presence, regardless of how intolerable he will strive to make it. The Creature saw that from the corners of his mouth when he spoke a small amount of residue would trickle down his mouth, Monsters have come to christen this phenomena 'Humanity'.

It's a tough one to explain, but The Creature has always thought of it as when the false narrative of God's Chosen doesn't line up with reality, the construct a human has built around themselves starts to dissolve at the molecular level. Humans are desirable, they're handed everything they want, because everyone WANTS to give that to them! But when this fallacy starts to unravel, the only lies keeping their humanity together, it starts to physically pour out of them. This wasn't the first bar he's tried to pull, and it's clear Monsters are his 'last resort' of the night.

In fact this 'sapian is such as usual, do I even need to go into what happened next? He wanted to stain this vampire's flesh with his grimy paws, regardless of her opinion or want on that issue. Such as is the nature of humans, this of course meant she had to die, one less thing on the planet that doesn't embrace his will of the highest priority. Every profanity that left his lips, that residue; Humanity, got more intense, spewing out of his mouth, pouring out of his eyes and spraying everywhere. He's barely hanging in there and the damage could be fatal. Suprisingly the landlord of the pub: Coleo, a Krakeny thing wasn't reacting to any of this which seems unusual she'd let a Human get away with acting like this, did she know something he didn't? Well maybe this is it Kreatur thought, all his toiling, the search for the parts of his body, this is what it was for! To intervene and protect monsters from humanity, to be the hero and all the violence and carnage his body will be put through to achieve it. Yes! This was what his body was for, and now it's time to put it to good use.

After letting the scene continue as honestly: He was trying to come up with a good first line, when the human grabbed the Vampires wrist The Creature went: Fuck it, and got up from his stool.

-Oi G...gamon ...Breath!

That was the first thing Kreatur could think off. Months of planning this exact encounter and he didn't even think to come up with an opening line. The Human looked over at The Creature and gave him a looking up and down. It was clear he saw not a creature to be feared but a subhuman of no real consequence.

-Fuck off corpse, who are you? The Human barked. Get the fuck out of this pub freak or my arm, that's my one entirely whole arm, will knock you out mate.

The human didn't let go of the vampire's wrist the entire time and ignored him. That wasn't meant to happen, The Creature tries again:

-Oi dickhead, you piss off now or-

Without hesitation, the Human turned to The Creature again

-Look mate, look at the state of you, now look at me. It's not gonna happen mate your cock's probably gonna drop off before it gets hard, if it can even get hard. She doesn't wanna know mate.

The Creature starts to shake uncontrollably, he tries to retort something, but all that comes out is shaky murmurs. Even then, all he probably would've said was "Your cock stinky meerrr". The Human now lets go of the vampire and heads to The Creature, seemingly growing by a foot with every step.

-Look I'm doing you a favour mate, no one wants to see your hideous mug around here, not fuck off you freak while you still can yeah?

The Creature can't even move, let alone retort. He shakes violently, stopping him from doing or saying anything. His body cannot handle the adrenaline now attempting to pump itself through his body, but what was it all for if he can't do anything now? What is he just gonna puss out after all this work? He doesn't wanna be that person, he wants to be a right hero. They'll tell stories of how he had this 'sapian out and everyone is gonna love it. He harnesses all his anger and bellows out:

-You... Are the.... A.... FUCK. declares The Creature as he hoists his good arm and goes to punch the guy right in his craw.

However, what followed was not the dramatic scene of the hero decking the evil doer straight in the jaw, but the sound of muscles, bones and all the tendons connecting it all coming apart almost immediately. His clenched fist transforms into a ballet of the fingers and palms bending in ways you really shouldn't be able to see them bend. It was witnessing a hands' impression of a bonito flake. The entire thing hangs down from The Creatures shoulder, needing to be held up by the other arm, just not to pull him down with it. The worst part is that it didn't even hurt, it didn't feel anything, there's nothing good about what that implies. The Creature looks up to hope for a "But you should've seen the other guy" situation, but all he saw was the image of a man who looked like he was gently brushed on the cheek, perhaps by a small bee passing by.

The Human didn't even retort, he didn't need to, the scene was so absolutely pathetic that it spoke for itself. Even Coleo behind the bar just gave a huge sigh and kept to herself, tho he swore he caught her giving a look towards the vampire. The Human, deciding it was time to mercifully end this display, he leaned toward the bar edge and aimed his boot directly into The Creature's face, even clipping him right in the eye. To call it merely a TKO would be generous, as he was flung across the entirety of the room to the sound of what could only be explained as "A cacophony of hundreds of people biting into dry cereal simultaneously." Absolutely not the noise you want accompanying direct contact in any way.

The Creature through the bleeding and swollen eyes of others looked up at the man, what could he say? All he could do is sigh, a simple resignation: He wasn't good enough to do what needed to be done, this is how it had to be.

-You're gonna regret that you fucking degenerate, the Human announces.

The Creature closed his eyes, well, an approximation of how well you can close them when they're that swollen and half your skull is mush anyways. Bracing himself as the Human lifted up his boot.

-Okay this was cute, but now we stop. Announces a voice

The bloodsucker who had been observing this entire scene from her bar stool finally spoke as she started to stand up.

-What? When I'm done with him I'll have you a-

He couldn't finish on this threat, an absolutely ungodly crunch could be heard, worse than Kreatur's even! Forcing open his swollen eye, he bore witness to a violent scene. The vampire had gripped her hand around the human's arm, with such force her claws ripped right through his very bones. The expression of her face, dissonant with the circumstance, was one of absolute annoyance, the 'wow three cars in a row not stopping for a zebra crossing huh?' look. In the blink of an eye she dug the claws of the other hand into the human's face, digging in like it was dough, even through the eyes, absolutely traumatising for Kreatuer to see if not for the whole 'This is the reason I'm not dying tonight' bit, which did make it a little hot. Then just like ripping off a plaster, everything above his lower jaw just... boop. And to stop this story from becoming a snuff piece, we'll stop the description there.

-And how are we doing, hero? Asks the vampire in the aftermath,

Kreatur hoping it was safe to look up, then see's her with a huge grin on her face, as she pours her victims blood, well what's left of it not plastered all over the bar, into a plastic container.

-Well aside from the loss of any structural integrity in my arm, I think I'm hanging in there

-I mean yeah your arm is literally hanging in there, right there. The Vampire jests behind her giggles, pointing at the dangling mass that now occupies Kreatur's right-hand side.

The Creature felt about a single centimetre tall, it kind of hit them all at once in one go: It wasn't that this vampire was in danger, it's that they themselves were the one who was never not, in mortal peril. It felt as if he suddenly gained the ability to see what everyone else has always seen, the moment they laid their eyes on The Creature.