These people came from nowhere, each with unique and strange features. The one speaking is lanky and short with a chain tethered to a claw, swinging it ceaselessly in mid-air.
Standing on the roof to the left is a tall, thin person wrapped in white strips of cloth, with a wrist shackle and broken chain still hanging from the right wrist.
Covered by a spiked iron hat, half of their face is concealed by a piece of white cloth dangling down.
When the cold wind blows, a Yin Yang face is revealed.
One half of their face is a stark, ruddy red.
To the right of this person is a woman, arms hanging down with long, deep-red fingernails, wearing a sleeveless tunic that's as solid as if it were made of iron.
Her hair is coiled at the back of her head, with no fewer than dozens of hairpins, making it resemble a porcupine.
Her pallid face has nothing to do with beauty, appearing as if it were painted on emotionlessly.
To the right of the shorter individual stands a reserved Swordsman.
