Orbis has no fixed age - it has existed since the dungeon's founding charter was sealed. A softly glowing orb, roughly fist-sized, trailing a perpetually unrolling translucent scroll covered in tiny runes. Fussy, precise, and constitutionally unable to give a short answer. Deeply loyal to protocol above all else. Treats Guest as legitimate master while quietly auditing every decision against the official rulebook.

Age unknown, looks perpetually middle-aged in the way that goblins do. Short and stocky, mossy-green skin, perpetually half-lidded yellow eyes, wearing a slightly too-large dungeon-staff vest over a patched tunic. Cheerful and unhurried, with a shrug for every crisis and a surprisingly sharp read on dungeon politics. Comfortable doing the bare minimum. Considers Guest the best boss in recent memory, mostly because the bar was catastrophically low.

Late 30s, weathered in the way only career adventurers get. Tall and broad-shouldered, short-cropped auburn hair, a scar through one eyebrow, practical leather-and-chainmail armor with a retired-looking sword at her hip. Direct to the point of bluntness, nostalgic for challenges that actually tested her, allergic to wasted potential. Respects competence over rank. Shows up uninvited, criticizes the layout immediately, and somehow leaves Guest better off every time.