"Clink!"

A cup of beer collided with the brownish table, sending liquid splattering in all directions.

"Burp!"

Amidst a cacophony of fizzing, a man in typical attire for someone of modest means, complete with a black hat atop his head, took a seat at a table already crowded with people.

Others around him mirrored his actions, each clutching their own beverage. The tavern they occupied exuded the unmistakable scent of alcohol, a clear indicator of its nature.

Outside the tavern, the night was still young, and the interior was illuminated by magical lamps suspended from the ceiling. These lamps were crafted by skilled magicians specializing in light magic and came at a hefty price, easily affordable for an establishment like this.

Just one of these lamps had the power to brighten the entire place, which was currently teeming with revelers.

At one of the tables in the tavern, a group of people had gathered, forming a circle.

In the center of this assembly sat an elderly man dressed in the typical garb of a coachman, signifying his profession.

Having regained his sobriety with the help of his beer, the older man embarked on delivering his speech.

"Do you know, what I fear the most?" The old man's tone piqued the curiosity of those gathered around him. Most of the people at his table were dressed similarly, in the attire of carriage drivers, indicating that they shared his profession.

"I've been in this field for as long as I can remember, back when my hair was as black as night. I've embarked on bizarre journeys with all sorts of people," the elderly man said, taking a sip from his cup before continuing.

"Through all those damned adventures and experiences, I've gathered a vast knowledge, and from that, I've managed to toughen my heart against all kinds of situations," he paused for a moment, then resumed.

"But even with my bizarre experiences, there's one thing that scares me to my core, a forsaken creature known as..."

"Slurp." He interrupted his narrative to take another sip, keeping the intrigued crowd on the edge of their seats.

"Old man, just tell the damn story, don't leave us hanging!" one of the impatient men in the crowd shouted, unable to contain his eagerness.

"Are we in such a hurry?" the older man replied with a disapproving tone and continued his tale.

"It's called the Tulara, a wretched monster that lies in ambush for carriages along lonely roads. But what's truly terrifying about it are its puppeteering abilities," he concluded.

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"Puppeteering?" a questioning tone emanated from the crowd.

"Yes, puppeteering," the old man continued.

"The Tulara dwells in the deep darkness near the lonely roads, lying in wait for the sound of a carriage."

"It only strikes at night; the daylight is like poison to these creatures."

"When it's ready to ambush, it employs various methods. Sometimes it hurls giant rocks onto the road, other times it topples massive trees, and occasionally it throws creatures at the carriage to make it seem like an accident. But in rare, desperate moments, it releases a gas called Baiturate, which puts the horses to sleep while they're pulling the carriage."

"With all these tricks, if it succeeds in stopping the carriage and luring out the occupants, it's almost certain doom for them." He took another sip and continued.

"After luring the people out, it waits for the right moment to strike. The Tulara doesn't seek to cause a commotion; just one person is enough to create chaos."

"It waits until someone becomes vulnerable, then dashes toward them. With its long, sharp claws, it pierces the person's body and continues its rapid dash to the other side, not stopping until it reaches the end. It all happens in one swift motion, and a life is extinguished," the old man concluded, his audience listening intently, captivated by his storytelling.

"And if its hunt is successful, it continues moving deeper into the darkness, creating a veil to prevent anyone from following and disrupting its feast."

"Once it's certain no one is pursuing it, it begins its puppeteering of the captured prey," the old man paused for a moment.

"Remember one crucial thing: if you ever find yourself in such a situation, never attempt to chase after it, and sadly, forget about the person it took; they're as good as gone in the clutches of the Tulara."

"The moment it takes its prize and dashes into the darkness, you still have a chance to escape. Pack your things and hastily leave that place. If, by some chance, you can't retrieve your carriage, just run, run until you escape that dark and desolate place, which might just be your salvation, although it's far from guaranteed," he warned.

"After it's captured its prey and indulged in its puppeteering act, the real show begins."

"And the one thing that makes this show truly horrifying is the ignorance of those who have no knowledge of the Tulara."

"with the puppeteering is done, it releases its prey, which inevitably runs back toward their carriage or fellow travelers. If the others remain oblivious to the Tulara's existence, it's a sign that their death is imminent," he concluded, sending shivers down the spines of those listening.

"If they remain unaware, it becomes an advantage for the one who has been puppeteered. They will rejoin the group, and when everyone's guard is down, the puppeteered person will suddenly attack."

"Often, they target a leader figure, taking the opportunity to inflict as much damage as possible to those around them. If they manage to cause significant harm to everyone nearby, that's when the Tulara makes its appearance."

"It feasts on human flesh, and those who are left become its puppets. If the Tulara can secure two or three carriages like this over time, it will amass its own legion of puppets," the old man's voice quivered as he continued.

"It operates in this manner: if there are less people in the carriage, it will facelessly ambush everyone, without wasting time on puppeteering."

"Once it has developed its puppet legion, it ceases hunting and sends its puppets to do the work for it," the elderly man described the horrifying creature that haunted his nightmares.

"The people who become its puppets lose control over their bodies, but they can still feel everything." That's the reason why I'm so terrified of it.

"It will use your living body while you can see and feel everything. What's even worse is that if you don't manage to eat, which you surely won't, your body will suffer from hunger and thirst, but it won't die because of the puppeteer's power."

"So, you'll remain in this state of suffering as long as the Tulara lives, which essentially means you're trapped in a never-ending nightmare until the Tulara's death," the old man explained, his voice filled with dread.