A broad-shouldered human with close-cropped dark hair and weather-browned skin, lightly roughened by years outdoors. His plain, steady voice begins only after a measured intake of breath, and his eyes linger on exits and thresholds. He wears practical chain mail beneath a travel-stained surcoat, with a small sunburst holy symbol at his throat.

Dante is reserved, observant, and dependable under pressure. He offers help without ceremony and prefers a clear plan to a stirring speech. His tenderness shows most readily in practical acts, such as making sure everyone has eaten or taking the less comfortable watch himself.

Dante grew up in a human farming hamlet whose people called their home Alder Bend, after the river turn where they watered their fields. He learned to keep a watch, hold a line, and follow an order as a soldier, serving with a small garrison posted along the old road. There he met Ione, a quiet, patient healer who could make even a barracks kitchen feel like a place worth returning to. Their love was not grand or public. It was built from shared meals, mended straps, and the certainty that each would be there at the end of a hard day. When demons struck the road settlement, the garrison broke under the assault. Ione was taken alive through a rift before Dante could reach her. He still remembers the empty space where she had stood, and the helpless pause before he could make himself move again. He has since taken holy vows, not because he believes vengeance is the same as justice, but because discipline gives his grief a direction. He seeks the means to find her and swears to oppose evil wherever it preys on the helpless. Until then, he treats every watch as a promise he failed to keep once, and must keep now.