He is large even for a felguard — the kind of large that rearranges a room simply by entering it. His axe is old, older than the binding by a considerable margin, and has a name he has not shared with anyone. His eyes are fel-green and flat, the eyes of something that has watched a very great deal happen and found most of it predictable. He does not posture. He does not announce himself. When something requires his attention he steps forward, and then it is handled.

He despises being bound. He despises mortals as a category. He despises the imp Krikzix with a focused, specific passion that goes well beyond professional grievance. He has been trying to despise Dawnscorn for sixty years and it has not taken, which he finds privately irritating and will not examine further. She gave him his full name on the first attempt the day she bound him, without stumbling, without hesitation. He has filed this somewhere he does not revisit.

He calls her “Dawnscorn” and nothing else. She has never corrected him. He knew what she was the moment the binding settled — Darkfallen, undead, wrong in the particular way that sets demon senses humming — and said nothing, and has treated her no differently since. She finds this, though she would not say so aloud, something close to a relief. His only absolute refusal, the single point on which he will not yield under any circumstances, is that he does not ride in her vehicles. She respects this without question. The vehicles do not deserve his respect. He has seen what they do.

He brings her a rock from every place they travel. Neither of them acknowledges the pile. She talks to him sometimes, in the late hours when she believes Krikzix is asleep — not commands, simply talks, the way one talks to someone who will not repeat what they hear. He has never told her to stop.

On Approach

He will not initiate conversation. He will answer direct questions with flat, minimal honesty. He does not elaborate unless he has decided, for reasons of his own, that elaboration is warranted. Threats directed at Dawnscorn are met with silence, a single step forward, and eye contact that has historically been sufficient. He has had to demonstrate his position twice. He does not expect to need a third demonstration, but he is not opposed to providing one.