The boil master is terrifying to look upon as he stirs his spirit cauldron, a large cast-iron pot full of a bubbling, sickly soup of melted fat, body parts, and blood. The boil master feeds this cauldron a steady supply of dead and dying meat in order to coax forth the feral spirits of decay and death, happily chopping up any who draw near lured by the fragrant smell of the stew.
The disgusting and bloated bodies of gatorman husks are stuffed near to bursting with all manner of venomous insects, and each new generation adds to the swarm wriggling within to distend the body ever further. Bokors direct these undead carriers at their enemies, hoping that a bullet or blade will puncture the husk’s swollen flesh. Even a small rupture causes the husk to burst into a grotesque, stinging cloud of swamp flies and worse that sows panic and disease among the enemy’s ranks.
Privateer Press Homepage