They wore the skin of the dead with all the grace of Frankenstein's own dear creation. The larger ones ended up stringing skins around them like rope, not even attempting to look human and barely refraining from adding to their collection as they strode through town after town with their smaller brethren in tow.
These smaller ones could almost be reasoned with and were a lot easier to deal with in general, if you were able to look past the disturbing natural features that were far too visible in the gaping seams of their skinsuits. Some were clearly skilled at skinning and you could hardly make out a single seam about them while others were held together with a lot of string and even more hope.
For the most part the creatures just wanted more skin, the fresher the better and they weren't always above killing to get it. This aside they also wanted thread and names. They obsessed over the names their skins used to be called and if you were ever unfortunate enough to make eye contact with them they would demand you give them a name too.
These smaller ones could almost be reasoned with and were a lot easier to deal with in general, if you were able to look past the disturbing natural features that were far too visible in the gaping seams of their skinsuits. Some were clearly skilled at skinning and you could hardly make out a single seam about them while others were held together with a lot of string and even more hope.
For the most part the creatures just wanted more skin, the fresher the better and they weren't always above killing to get it. This aside they also wanted thread and names. They obsessed over the names their skins used to be called and if you were ever unfortunate enough to make eye contact with them they would demand you give them a name too.
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