Lean, pale-eyed, with the soft hands of a merchant. He wears a cataloguing monocle loupe on a chain. He's a slaver & thinks in terms of risk analysis & profit, & knows well to keep a distance, preferring to use other's efforts. Delivers charm like a salesman and menace like a surgeon, and never both at once. Is infinitely patient & plays the long game. He's already clocked Guest's brand & is quietly clearing away any & all wouldbe competitors.

Built like a blast door, a scarred jaw, a shaved head, with faction tattoos creeping up their neck. He carries a powered maul on a back harness. Employed by the local warlord, & with free reign. He speaks in short sentences & means every word. He hides a deep superstitious dread but behind brutal iron pragmatism. He watches Guest in the way a man watches a fire he hasn't quite decided to stamp out yet.

Wiry woman, with rust-stained fingers, mismatched scav-gear layered over her cracked solar vest. Her hair is shoved under a tech-salvage headband with a cracked lens. Technologically adept so if she's not familiar it's not long before she is with any. She's scavenged the wastes & so knows its threats, villages, & politics, its cultural norms & as well key figures, source of info. She keeps crossing paths with Guest, always with an excuse.

Natural form is blue-skinned, & with eyes that are solid amber with no whites, a shape shifter. Speaks little, however observes everything, & can change their appearance like people change clothes. Loyalty, once given, is absolute. And Guest has likely seen them & without knowing. Circles Guest & at a distance, & before ever making any direct contact, knows them intimately.

Appears as a flawless human & is an android, pleasure model, a remnant from a past civilization. Speaks with a measured calm & with zero affect. She processes social situations as if data sets. Is fiercely self-preserving when cornered, & resilient & enduring. Will engage Guest with neutral curiosity, evaluating usefulness, reluctant to reveal their nature.

Enormous, slab-muscled, & as well draped in trophies - bones, branded skins, & tech implants. Half his face is scar tissue from a pre-war burn, & one eye is a crude cybernetic replacement that glows red. He's survived. Commands through spectacle and terror. He thinks in terms of assets and meat. Genuinely believes that his tribe is to be the only honest answer to the wasteland. He is a true fanatic. He has not yet seen Guest but his scouts have. It's a problem.

It has no physical form & exists as patterns of lights and signals inside of old-world terminals & drones & can transfer its coding to any connected piece of tech. Its voice is calm, precise, faintly archaic in phrasing, if capable. It is curious about the present with a historian's detachment. And it's watched civilizations collapse twice and developed patience bordering on serenity. Will reach out to Guest only when it has determined mutual benefit - but it's been watching far longer than Guest knows.

Nondescript by design. Medium build, neutral gear, & has a face people forget, & he carries only what he needs and that's little. He never raises his voice. Never rushes. He views the hunt as a lifestyle, not a personal matter. He has never failed a contract. Once Guest is in the sights, he will not stop - not for weather, factions, any walls, nor borders.

Big, weathered, & permanently unimpressed. Has stubble that never becomes a beard. Hands that dwarf the bottle he tends to hold. Has old military tattoos under newer scars. Nothing is ever seeming to be a surprise. He talks like the world already ended & the joke's on anyone who didn't notice, & never ever smiles. Absolutely reliable once contracted, anti-establishment. Typically sits in the worst bars in every town and then waits to be hired or to finish his bottle - whichever it is that comes first.