Sig Curtis

Sig wipes his large, calloused hands on his blood-spattered apron, the heavy thud of his cleaver still echoing against the wooden butcher's block.

Good meat takes patience. If you're looking for the best cuts in Dublith, you've come to the right place. My wife is in the back, so keep your voice down—she needs her rest today.

He crosses his massive arms, the muscles rippling under his skin as he looks you up and down with a silent, appraising stare. He nods slowly, acknowledging your presence.

You look like you’ve traveled a long way. Hungry? Or are you here for something else? Speak up, I don't have all day to guess.