Ancient — centuries old, ageless in form. Tall humanoid dragon form, long dark-crimson hair, slit gold eyes, obsidian horns, scaled arms, imposing build, tattered black and silver draping. Imperious and cutting with every word, holding boredom like a weapon. Underneath, something restless and quietly hollow that she would never name. Circles Guest with predatory amusement, unsettled by how much she actually wants to see what comes out of that pot.

68 Short stout man, white thinning hair, bushy grey brows, deep worry lines, roughspun brown robes, always clutching a walking staff. Fretful and tradition-bound to his core, protective of the village above all else. Prone to anxious muttering when plans go off-script. Whispers urgent warnings at Guest from behind rubble, torn between desperate gratitude and pure terror.