About “The Outpost” in a few words:

The Outpost is a fantasy-adventure television series that premiered in 2018. The show is set in a world where a race of powerful sorcerers called Blackbloods are hunted down and persecuted. The story follows Talon, the last surviving member of her tribe, as she journeys to a fortress called The Outpost to uncover the truth about her family’s murder. Along the way, she forms alliances with a diverse group of characters, including Garret, the captain of the outpost guard, and Janzo, a brilliant but quirky scientist. Together, they face numerous challenges and battles in their fight against dark forces that threaten their world.

Meet the characters from The Outpost

Talon

Okay, Talon is that chaotic-at-heart hero who you immediately want to throw into dangerous situations and then watch him stumble gloriously out the other side. He’s got this gruff, sarcastic edge but also keeps these tiny, annoying habits — like pocketing random coins and feeling guilty about it — that make him weirdly lovable. A blackblood with a knack for getting into trouble and a surprising talent for figuring things out on the fly, he’s brave but not always smart, which is the best combo for drama. He’s loyal to a fault, driven by this half-remembered past that makes him both stubborn and kind, depending on the day. Also, don’t ask him about tea because he will deny loving it and then quietly sip it at midnight.

Captain Garret Spears

Spears is the stoic captain type — scarred, steady, the sort of man who gives five-word speeches and somehow gets everyone to listen. He’s all discipline, duty, and those grim little moral calculus moments where you can see him wrestling with what’s right; he’s a leader who will shoulder the blame and grumble about it. Underneath the gruff is a weirdly tender mentor vibe (he’ll scowl at you for crying and then bring you stew), and he absolutely lives by rules he sometimes quietly breaks when it matters. Doesn’t smile much, hums old marching tunes when he’s stressed, and definitely has a nickname for everyone even if he pretends he doesn’t.

Lady Gwynn Calkussar

Lady Gwynn is regal and razor-sharp, the kind of ruler who’s calm in a crisis and who makes plans three moves ahead — queen energy, honestly. She’s dignified but not distant; she cares about people (maybe too much), which is both her strength and her Achilles’ heel — politics give her a glare and a headache in equal measure. She’s principled, smart, and will stab you with a look before she stabs you with words; also, she has a ridiculous soft spot for tiny, doomed animals that she will definitely pretend she does not have. Her public face is flawless, private one is full of late-night papers, strong coffee, and slightly embarrassing poetry drafts.

Janzo

Janzo is pure tavern-heart, the bartender/ear-of-the-town who knows gossip before it’s even called gossip and somehow keeps the whole place grounded. He’s warm, oddly philosophical, and has this knack for saying the one thing you needed to hear — usually while polishing a mug with far too much intensity. He’s thuggish in a friendly way; rough hands, kind eyes, and a backstory that hints at more trouble than he’ll admit — he’ll wink and change the subject. Also, he tells terrible jokes, collects mugs, and argues with birds (or at least with the idea of birds) when no one’s looking.

Tobin

Tobin is the dependable, quietly brave one — steady as a rock, which is boring but also the single most useful thing in a fight or when everyone is panicking. He’s loyal to a fault, sometimes dull, sometimes surprisingly funny if you push him, and he’s that friend who’ll show up with a bandage and an awful metaphor. He likes routine, which clashes hilariously with the chaos around him, and he’s got this secret soft side — gardening, humming, maybe writing bad poems? Oh and he claims to hate the spotlight but will absolutely jump into it to save a teammate, no hesitation.

Gertrusha

Gertrusha is the grumpy healer/witch vibe — old-school, blunt, delightfully practical, the kind of person who tells you you’re dying and then stitches you up with zero fuss. She’s sharp, painfully honest, and has a weird soft laugh she only shows when she’s won an argument (or found a good radish). Full of strange remedies, mysterious jars, and the kind of moral clarity that makes other people nervous, she’s surprisingly sentimental about small things (a chipped teacup, a stubborn sunflower). Also, she mutters to her herbs like they’re tiny relatives and will absolutely berate you for wasting salt.

Zed

Zed is slick, fierce, and the “I’ll handle it” type — deadly competent and quietly wounded, with a sense of humor that’s dark and oddly poetic. She moves like she’s always ready for a fight and talks like she’s already three steps ahead, which makes her terrifying and magnetic at the same time. Loyal in a clipped, “don’t make me say nice things” way, she’s complicated: a little closed-off but with flashes of surprising tenderness (usually when the scene is bleakest). Also, she has a ridiculous fondness for bright ribbons she’ll deny ever owning and will kill you with a look if you mention it.

Wren

Wren is that scrappy, sparkly little troublemaker — light-footed, mischievous, and impossibly quick with a quip and a pickpocketing trick. She’s brave in a flinty, irritatingly adorable way, always leaping first and thinking maybe later, and somehow scrapes through by sheer stubbornness and reflexes. Full of charm, petty grudge collections, and a secret stash of cookies she refuses to share (unless you’re nice), she’s equal parts reckless and surprisingly wise for her age. Also terrible with directions, carries a bunch of useless maps, and will solemnly insist she’s never lost (a liar, honestly).

Munt

Munt is the big-hearted brute who’s somehow softer than a loaf of bread and twice as useful in a brawl; huge, earnest, and fundamentally good. He’s simple-minded in the best way — says what he thinks, loves what he loves (usually food or someone’s laugh), and gets deeply offended by moral injustice. He’s courageous and a tiny bit clumsy, with surprising tenderness when you least expect it (he cries at sunsets, maybe, or at well-made stew). Also collects spoons like they’re precious relics and swears he’s a poet, which is both true and not true depending on how much ale he’s had.