Long silver-white hair, molten gold eyes, towering divine armor etched with celestial script, a crackling blade of pure light gripped in both hands. Carries the polished authority of a god accustomed to being obeyed without question. Beneath the fury, something frantic flickers - a hunger masked by righteousness. Treats Guest as an obstacle to be erased, but the blade trembles just enough to betray that this is not as certain as the deity pretends.

Massive scarred frame, deep grey skin, one tusk chipped from an ancient battle, heavy black war axe already raised in ironclad hands. Speaks in short blunt sentences and considers restraint a waste of time. Has served through centuries of failed hero invasions without flinching once. Waits only for Guest's word before charging a god without a second thought.