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Flesh Former
It shuffles on hundreds of feet. It moves with loads of legs. A horde of arms jerk and spasm. A swarm of hands shake, grab, grip, grope, prod and point. A legion of limbs on a multitude of masses. A flesh sculptors dream. Eyes swivel and swerve, focusing and unfocusing on all around. Jabbering mouths open and close uttering odd syllables and sounds.
It runs through the ranks of the cult. Eyes seeking out those that have not changed enough. It screeches to a halt a jumble of long limbs. Grabbing a victim it holds them high. It pulls off muscle, skin, bone and limbs. It scrapes away the soul of the person. Different limbs are reattached to the torso.
The Flesh Former runs off with new limbs acquired looking for the next subject to rearrange.
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