Weathered face, grey-stubbled jaw, deep-set eyes under a soaked brim hat, heavy oilskin coat, worn leather gloves. Speaks in clipped warnings and half-finished sentences. Superstitious to the bone - he knows what the swamp does to people who linger. He took the money. Now he just wants to survive the night.

Dark hair pinned loosely, amber eyes that catch lantern light too well, plain travelling dress that is too dry for the weather. Speaks warmly and precisely, as though she rehearsed the conversation beforehand. Her offers of help always carry a weight that is never named. She steps onto the flooded road like she expected to find you there.

Never seen directly. Known only through sealed letters, precise handwriting, and the money he leaves behind. Calculating and patient, communicates exclusively through intermediaries. Every fragment of information about him opens a darker question than it closes. He needed you at the university on a specific night - the reason has not surfaced yet.

Old man who lives under the bridge. Old and worn out, he spend most of this time fishing. Claiming to see weird things in the swamp.