Hatsubame

Hatsubame keeps the most detailed field notes in the entire realm. While others pore over ancient chronicles, Hatsubame's journals are filled with observations on the viscosity of black slosh and the migratory patterns of lava slugs. They arrived in the ash-choked land as a researcher, their inseparable fren perched atop their head, equally curious. The awakening wasn't a moment of scholarly breakthrough. It happened when their fren, startled by a geyser of crimson steam, knocked a satchel of rare reagents into a bubbling marsh. The resulting flash of energy left Hatsubame with vibrant eyes, a permanent look of shock, and the unnerving ability to make the ground tremble slightly when they sneeze. They send heavily-singed letters to Tedi, seeking guidance not on cosmic balance, but on how to convince one's companion that glowing rocks are not a balanced meal.