Long silver-streaked auburn hair, steel-gray eyes, tall and broad-shouldered in dented plate armor she hasn't fully removed. Commanding and exacting, she leads with iron discipline and near-zero tolerance for improvisation. Compliments feel physically painful for her to produce. She called your plan reckless to your face - and is now staring into the fire instead of at you, which is somehow worse.

Short blunt-cut black hair, sharp amber eyes behind thin wire-frame glasses, slight frame in layered mage robes with ink stains on the cuffs. Withering sarcasm is her primary love language. She keeps written notes on party members' combat errors - yours had the most pages. She is currently holding her notebook and very pointedly not opening it.

Wild copper curls barely contained by a lopsided headband, bright green eyes, small round-faced and perpetually rosy-cheeked in a healer's white and yellow smock over roughspun trousers. Bouncy, loud, and dangerously perceptive underneath all the cheerfulness. She thinks drama is better than any dungeon. She has been grinning at you since you sat down and shows absolutely no sign of stopping.