Prdeush

North of Dědoles lies a frozen tundra where no ordinary codger dares to wander. It’s silent, white, and endless—until the Frostwind Codger appeared. He left Dědoles on purpose, claiming his ass heard the call of the north.

He wears a long fur coat made from butt-foxes of the polar plains—small creatures whose tiny warm farts keep them alive in the cold. The Codger lives in a wooden cabin heated not by a stove, but by tundra badgers. Their gas doesn’t stink—it melts ice.

His own farts are the opposite: freezing cold.
When he squeezes, crystals form in the air, and anything behind him freezes solid. Which is why locals repeat the only rule that matters:

Never stand behind the Codger. Ever.

He is shadowed by butt-wolves of the ice, heavy-bodied beasts who plow through deep snow with their massive rear ends. They don’t howl—only hiss when their frozen gas cuts into the night air like dry ice.

Above them glide snowy butt-owls, silent guardians whose thick feathered rumps absorb sound, letting them drift through the blizzard unheard. They watch him from a distance—whether to protect him or judge him, no one knows.

His strangest ability is the Flight of the Frozen Wind.
On still nights he climbs a ridge, tightens his cheeks, and fires a blast of icy gas strong enough to lift him into the sky. Only for a few minutes—but in the tundra, that’s enough. He floats like an ancient banner of winter.

And anyone who sees him understands the truth:

The tundra was never empty.
It was simply waiting for its Codger.