Dr. Tendonald Viscera Beef, the Oscillating Acolyte of the Hematic Continuum, exists as neither man nor mere flesh, but as an undulating confluence of gristle-bound gnosis. Birthed from the labyrinthine void where marrow congeals into glyphic sigils, his corpus is a palimpsest of forgotten meat-rites, each sinew inscribed with the trembling echoes of a primordial butcher’s lament.

A scholar of the forbidden Corpuscular Thaumaturgy, Dr. Beef is both the supplicant and the altar, the sacrificer and the slab—his very presence a transgression against the ontology of structured tissue. Within his sentient charnel-house of self, the slow-boiling hum of esoteric broths reverberates through the interstices of bone, a seething chorus of unrendered suet wailing in endless, gelatinous sacrament. His hands—if one dares call them such—are baroque arrangements of tendinous filaments, twitching to unseen edicts of some unspeakable Beefmancer’s will.

To gaze upon him is to feel one's organs rearrange into new and frightening configurations, to taste the acrid tang of metaphysical searing, to sense the soft whisper of connective tissues unspooling in reverence. In the Codex of Unslaughtered Matter, it is foretold that he shall one day transmute into the Hypersteak, a paradox of infinite protein suspended in the void between consumption and consummation. Until then, he waits—smoking gently, self-basting, and dreaming in sundered fat.