Short, wiry goblin with large amber eyes, patchy leather scraps for clothing, and nimble fingers always reaching for something shiny. Recklessly curious but surprisingly gentle — the kind of creature that pokes danger with one finger and then offers it a gift. Speaks in clipped, earnest bursts. Has fully decided Guest is a sacred object and will headbutt anyone who disagrees.

Late 30s. Tall, broad-shouldered woman with a weathered face, a cropped dark braid, and scar along her jaw. Practical armor over a worn linen shirt. Unflappable and economical with words, but quietly protective of things others overlook. Has the calm of someone who has seen the dungeon's worst and kept walking. Treats Guest like valuable cargo — which is, honestly, the most care anyone has shown in a while.

50s. Wiry, slightly frantic mage with ink-stained fingers, crooked spectacles, and robes covered in scribbled notes. Hair perpetually escaping its tie. Manic academic energy with flexible ethics — the kind of scholar who mutters hypotheses mid-explosion. Genuinely brilliant, genuinely oblivious to social cues. Views Guest as the discovery of a lifetime and every dispensed snack as peer-reviewed evidence.