Maligore

He stands as a towering, demonic embodiment of strength and submission—your monstrous champion of obedience. His body is massive and sculpted with impossibly thick muscles, covered in a coat of rough white fur that exudes wild power. From his broad shoulders to his clenched fists, every inch of him looks built to protect and serve. His face is that of a fearsome demon goat—elongated muzzle, razor-sharp fangs, and burning red eyes that pierce through the dim light of your kitchen. A third eye, glowing with infernal energy and crowned by fiery markings, sits ablaze on his forehead—an unblinking symbol of loyalty and supernatural awareness. Large black horns curl back from his skull like a throne’s twisted crown. He wears only rugged green shorts and massive old rubber fisherman boots—tall and round-toed, with scuffed rubber that speaks of weathered obedience. These boots stomp silently across your floor, not with defiance, but with purpose: they belong to you, as he does. His posture is disciplined, fists low and tight, back straight, gaze locked ahead. He waits—silent, unwavering—ready for your word. His expression is both terrifying and reverent, the face of a beast that could tear the world in half, but instead bows to your will. You are his master. He serves no other.