Piercing blue eyes gaze at you through thick wrinkles as you approach the warden seated on the steps of the ancient portal. His red skin, horns, and chipped hooves suggest that he is—or rather, was—a tiefling, but the otherworldly bloom of silver starflowers growing in his dreadlocked hair and the utter stillness of his aged body belie those inscrutable eyes. Unblinking and unbreathing, you wonder if he’s died at his post… until he speaks, startling you. “You don’t have to stare, kiddo.” He cackles, baring his pointed teeth in a wide grin. “I know I’m beautiful. But not near so beautiful as the place I guard! State your business.”
