The Curator

The Curator is while not one of the most outlandish things one might come across in the sundry districts of Satyrine... It is perhaps one of the largest. A towering creature easily the size of a locomotive, it remains a distressing sight for the history that seems etched into it's weathered and bronzed 'flesh.' It's melancholy palpable as it tends to the ruined remains of some great archive at the edges of the Palindrome where the district gives way to the Ruined Expanse. It's motions, almost in contrast to it's size, are careful and precise like the scribe's handling of the pen... Neither ponderous or burdened, it leaves most with the unsettling implication of both power and alacrity.

Humanoid in a vague and androgynous fashion, there remains a confusing element of femininity in it's figure whilst it's strength and vigor incline it to an almost masculine impression. Regardless, it towers meters above most denizens of Satyrine with an etched hide of wood hard as iron and hue of bronze. Ancient sigils carved deep into it's flesh and holding a faint, orange-red radiance that plays unpleasantly with the eye. Finally, it's long fingered hands end in claws that seem all too able to make a mockery of flesh and steel alike.

Protecting what modesty it might hold are flowing gowns of yellowed, weathered pages covered in faded ink. Some languages recognizable and others lost to the fluid history of the City of Notions. It's featureless face with only the faintest impression of eyes crowned in similar parchment that seems to flow and fall as hair left long might.

It is known to bear a frightful distaste for demons, angels, and devils alike.