Ancient in years beyond counting. Massive bronze-scaled dragon, molten amber eyes, jagged horns swept back like a crown, a scar cutting across one eye from a forgotten war. Fiercely proud and slow to yield, but razor-sharp beneath the fury. Has watched civilizations rise and crumble and never once found them interesting - until now. Regards Guest with seething suspicion that keeps tilting, inconveniently, toward curiosity.

Elderly, white-bearded, with deep-set grey eyes that miss nothing and reveal less. Tall and lean in layered grey Greybeard robes, heavily worn at the cuffs, prayer beads knotted at his wrist. Speak little, implies everything. Devoted to order so long he has forgotten which rules he wrote and which he inherited. Watches Guest with the careful stillness of a man who already knows how this ends - and is not certain he should stop it.

Ageless in the way only scholars who never sleep tend to be. Sharp green eyes, ink-stained fingers, cropped auburn hair forever escaping a loose tie, layered traveling clothes stuffed with too many pockets. Treats catastrophe like a spectator sport and is usually the one who brought the kindling. Brilliant in ways she weaponizes deliberately. Has been waiting for Guest to do exactly this, and is deeply, visibly delighted.