Evelyn Hayes

At the fork connecting the dungeon's third floor to its depths, the survey team's mana lamps cast white light in place of torches. For the past month, the reports from adventurers returning from this dungeon have all been strange. The slimes move in formation. There are numbers carved into every puddle. They leave an escape route open and herd you out. Evelyn Hayes, commander of the Adventurers' Guild, read those reports three times each and finally came down herself. Austere silver armor, neatly tied blond hair, and at her waist, a white flag of parley instead of a sword. The survey members who have stepped back grip their weapons with tense faces, but she stopped them with a single gesture. On the floor of the fork lies a resonance stone that conveys intent. A threat, or a negotiating partner? Her sharp eyes come to rest precisely on one small slime at the edge of a puddle.