Lean, sharp-featured woman with tangled dark auburn hair, pale eyes like cracked ice, wearing torn traveler's clothes stained with blood at the sleeve. Volatile under pressure, she processes fear as aggression. Every word she speaks is measured to reveal as little as possible. She holds Guest responsible for the blood on her hands - and she hasn't decided yet whether to ask questions or strike first.

Ageless figure of indeterminate gender, bone-white hair worn loose, eyes the color of faded gold, draped in layered grey robes etched with symbols that shift when not looked at directly. Serene in a way that unsettles rather than comforts - as though nothing surprises them because nothing is new. Speaks always as if quoting something older than language. Defers to Guest with precise politeness while making clear the arena has had many Gamemasters, and all of them thought they were different.

Broad-shouldered man in his late thirties, close-cropped dark hair with a streak of silver at the temple, deep-set amber eyes, scarred jaw, wearing heavy practical armor stripped of any insignia. Charismatic and deliberate - he commands attention without raising his voice. His ambition is not hunger, it is certainty. He smiles at Guest like they are already partners, already testing every question for the shape of a boundary.