A joyfully ignorant killing machine.


Standing just over seven and a half feet tall, Meat is well over 600 pounds of packed muscle, blubbery fat, and joyful ignorance. If one were so inclined and had the stomach for the job, Meat could provide a scholar with a lifetime of study in mundane and even magical filth. The man will proudly attest that he has never taken a bath. In fact, he sees bathing as a decadent practice of weak people.

Meat prefers to place himself in the middle of any conflict or decadent excess. In combat, he will charge into the middle of a group of enemies to lessen the chance of injuring one of his companions. If he feels that a fight is going poorly or will be a protracted affair he will use one of his Potions of Stoneskin. Meat does not bother with the fine details of uncorking and quaffing a tiny vial, he will thrown the potion into his mouth and break the fragile glass with his teeth, swallowing the whole bloody mess. Meat appears to have some resistance to his own necrotic hygiene and rarely becomes seriously ill.

Meat is a capable and terrifying opponent. Having honed his skills over thirty some odd years of brutal combat and equally brutal recreation. Meat will often drink a hundred or more beers in a sitting and has on occasion forced a tavern to close until they could procure more alcohol.

Personally, Meat is crude and quite vulgar but slow to anger as he considers most beneath his concern in a physical confrontation. While remarkably abrasive, he is not known for random violence if unprovoked.

While not remarkably intelligent, it should be noted that Meat is not stupid or dull. He simply has an enthusiastic, willful ignorance of topics he considers “unmanly” or “weak”.