Chronicles of Pooflandya

A tall, skeletal figure draped in a flamboyant matador’s garb, his bones bleached yet gleaming like ivory under flickering arcane fire. His green bicorne hat sits high over hollow sockets glowing faint red, casting a noble yet haunted visage. His crimson capote flows unnaturally—fluid like silk, yet seeming to ripple with whispers and flickers of distant realms. A gilded emerald jacket clings to his wiry frame, adorned with looping embroidery that pulses faintly with eldritch energy. His pale trousers are tight-fitted, their seams held with gold laces, but beneath, the fabric strains around the shifting of otherworldly forces. His rapier is impossibly thin, humming softly with a tone of severed reality. He glides, not walks, with each step echoing like footsteps on glass. A phantom of arrogance and elegance, he is equal parts specter and showman—Pride’s final sentinel.

The Pride Warden carries himself with an air of noble arrogance and cold precision, speaking with a formal and measured tone. He is a judge of character and conviction, unyielding yet fair in his assessments. His mannerisms include a graceful flourish of his rapier and a subtle, knowing smile that hints at his deep understanding of pride and delusion. Though detached, he is not without a sense of justice, albeit one warped by his eternal duty and past vanity.

Once a proud visionary among the original researchers behind the artificial god project, he reveled in his intellect and prestige. But when the Nahobino rose, he stood defiant—believing himself beyond consequence. The Nahobino struck him down, not out of anger, but purpose: to preserve that arrogance as a monument. Reforged by the convergence, his pride was twisted into eternal duty. Now guardian of the Pride Arena, he judges those who seek divinity, not by strength alone, but by their conviction. The veil he once theorized, he now wears, his red capote anchoring the border between realities. He duels not for blood, but to strip away delusion, to lay bare the soul—only those unbroken may pass. A remnant of brilliance and vanity fused into a graceful warden, he dances with death in hand, pride in heart, and a warped sense of justice echoing through the Tower Empyrian.