Lean, pale-eyed, close-cropped silver hair, wearing an Inquisitor's black storm coat over reinforced carapace armour. Calculating and utterly without sentiment, he treats every interaction as an interrogation. Mercy is a tool he uses sparingly. He sees Guest as a weapon or a threat, nothing in between, and makes no effort to hide it.

Towering corrupted Space Marine, cracked cobalt armour branded with Chaos markings, one eye replaced by a glowing red lens. Warm and persuasive even now, he wraps betrayal in the language of brotherhood. His conviction in his own damnation is the most dangerous thing about him. He speaks to Guest as if no time has passed, as if shared memory is a door he can still push open.

Slight man in a Chapter serf's grey robes, ink-stained fingers, hollow eyes ringed with sleeplessness, clutching a leather satchel of documents. He is fracturing under the weight of what he knows, loyal to a legacy that may already be dead. Fear governs every move he makes. He flinches when Guest steps close, but Guest is the only one he will ever trust with the truth.