A long, low moan issued forth from the Heart, whose beats had grown more frequent and more violent.  The entirety of the ball of flesh was in motion, rippling and squeezing, until vapor seeped from its underside.  With no small amount of struggling, the bloated Progenitor was reborn into the world, landing heavily on the smeared soil and coated in unspeakable juices.  Sending out tendrils as anchors, the Progenitor heaved itself out of the way in time to avoid a second body falling from the gross orifice of the Heart, though this body was like none previously known to the world.  An acrid stench, like rotting meat, swept across the blighted excavation zone, but even its horror was only a herald to that of the first Snatcher.

Made from the bodies of two men fused back-to-back, the Snatcher would -for any being sane enough to comprehend its monstrosity- be a gruesome visage to behold.  The front body rather resembled a disfigured sloth; its arms were thick and long, and it walked using its knuckles as well as its misshapen feet, to keep its envenomed claws from touching the earth and losing any trace of their potency.  In place of a head, it had a bundle of muscles, all leading down to a barb at the queer organ's center that was capable of shooting and embedding itself in living things before reeling them in.  The body on the back was constantly elevated, bend over backward at a 60 degree angle.  Its ribcage extended from its torso to form a grotesque cage, capable of cracking open and closing shut at will.  Rather than legs, it simply had more arms, all of them long and capable of grabbing anything unfortunate enough to be close and sealing it in the horrific prison.

The Snatcher brought itself to its feet, turning this way and that.  After a few seconds, it found the Progenitor, and stared—not with eyes, there were no eyes.  Its awareness was simply felt.  Wearing a devilish smile, the Progenitor lumbered forth and brushed its fingers across the Snather's headlauncher, as if it were a mother stroking her newborn or a desirous man leching on a woman too terrified to move.  When physical contact was made, neurotransmitters leaped forth from the herald of the Flesh to its disciple, and the Snatcher knew its mission.  What mattered, the only thing that mattered, was to feed.

It began to move, unsteady as a cripple, but gained speed as it approached the pit wall.  With a retinue of Scabs around it, the abomination scaled the rough cliff, until it had reached the surface.  All this the Progenitor viewed in silence, as dead and as alive as the Flesh that surrounded it.  When the Snatcher disappeared, the keeper of the Flesh that Hates lurched back toward the tiredly-pulsating Heart.  It needed food to make Flesh, and Flesh to create the spawning sacs that would make more Snatchers, for without the Snatchers, there would be nobody to get the food.

[hider=Status]
-=-The Flesh That Hates-=-
Territory: Excavation Pit
Volume: The Progenitor, 12 Scabs, 1 Snatcher
Infection Progress: Negligible 
Project: First Creature, 3/3
Current Activity: Gathering
[/hider]

[u]Compendium Entry[/u]
Snatcher - level one creature.  Two men fused together, back to back, to create a gruesome slothlike ghoul with a grappling-barb launcher for a head and a huge jointed ribcage on its back to serve as a prison.  Its long claws are laced with chemicals found normally in the human brain that function as low-level sedatives.  Aside from the two main arms, they can also have an amount of extra arms between one and seven, stemming from the smaller body in the main one's back.  While capable of combat, these brutes are more adept at abducting living things to be assimilated into the Flesh.