Towering over the rest of the tribe, the Lardermen are vast, bloated monstrosities, their immense girth dragging against the earth as they crawl on all fours like infants too swollen to stand. Their limbs are thick with unnatural growth, their minds hollowed by ceaseless hunger. Though their origins remain a mystery, all that is left of them is appetite.
Too stubborn to break and too mindless to reason with, they are driven forward with the promise of flesh. The Man Eaters lash howdahs to their broad backs, turning them into lumbering platforms for supplies, captives, or warriors. In battle, a Haruspex may mount such a perch, chanting their wretched rites as the Larderman groans with anticipation.
Their arrival is slow, but inevitable. When the hunting parties surge ahead, the Lardermen crawl behind, dragging the remains of their prey, their great forms heralding ruin with every ponderous step.
