Butcher

Butchers who underwent Transcension. The copper masks that suppress their Sha-Chi hang crookedly on their faces, leaving them free to eat whenever they please.

Their iron hooks drag distant enemies within reach of their cleavers, while the filth they vomit forms a poisonous miasma around them. When they begin gorging on chunks of meat, they are restoring their strength for another murderous assault.

When food runs out, human flesh makes the finest fare. Now even that is scarce. Only starving frenzied hounds remain beside their butcher's blocks, waiting for a share of the scraps and bones.