About “Willow” in a few words:

20 years after vanquishing the wicked queen Bavmorda, the sorcerer Willow Ufgood leads a group of misfits on a dangerous rescue mission into the unknown.

Meet the characters from Willow

Kit Tanthalos

Okay, Kit is that slightly scruffy, always-in-motion hero who looks like he’s been pulled out of a tavern brawl and still has a grin on his face — equal parts roguish and reliable. He talks too fast, drinks tea like it’s a lifeline (but don’t ask him what kind), and can suddenly go very, very serious when things actually matter — which is a mood whiplash you’ll secretly love. He’s the friend who forgets important dates but remembers arcane curses, and he keeps a ridiculous collection of tin soldiers that he insists are “strategic aids” (or maybe that’s just an excuse). Also, he’s brave in a sloppy, loud kind of way and will probably break a rule or two because rules are more interesting when bent.

Elora Danan

Elora is this quietly luminous force — like a prophecy wrapped in a kid who knows more than she should — and she gives off ancient-forest vibes even when she’s just sitting still. She’s wise without being boring, mischievous without meaning harm, and has this odd habit of rearranging stones for luck (or because she likes symmetry, who knows). People expect solemn destiny but she’ll surprise you by laughing at the worst times, or by insisting on making mud pies during meetings about fate; it’s both adorable and slightly alarming. And somehow she’s both fragile and unbreakable at once, which sounds cliché but is true — plus she might hide a secret love of flashy scarves.

Willow Ufgood

Willow is the absolute heart-and-brain of the group — bookish, shy-turned-fearless, and slightly obsessed with perfecting spells (and her tea-brewing technique, which she’ll defend fiercely). She’s empathetic to a fault; like, she’ll cry at a squirrel and then immediately cast a protective ward for it, which is both very her and also why the houseplants are suspiciously well-organized. She can go from awkward giggles to elemental fury in a heartbeat, which is terrifying and amazing — also she hoards spellbooks and recipe notes and probably has a secret notebook titled “Things I’ve Accidentally Turned Into Toads.” Seriously, she’s the kind of leader who apologizes after saving the world.

Jade Claymore

Jade is pure precision — sharp, stylish, and a sword-sorceress who wears practicality like an accessory and also has a velvet ribbon tucked into her armor because she has standards. She gives very few smiles but the ones she does give are rare and devastating (in a good way), and she trains like her life depends on it, which, frankly, it often does. She’s pragmatic and occasionally cold, but will surprise you by fussing over a wounded animal or knitting when she can’t sleep (yes, knitting; don’t ask how she balances that with two-handed broadsword drills). Also, rumor has it she writes terrible poetry when she’s stressed — and then hides it under her saddle.

Graydon Hastur

Graydon is the kind of silver-tongued aristocrat you love to hate — polished, patient, and quietly dangerous, with a taste for orchestral music and expensive tea that he insists on steeping for exactly seven minutes. He smiles as he rearranges power structures like chess pieces, and he’s the one who’ll offer you a helpful hand while planning your downfall (cheeky, right?). He collects tiny glass animals for reasons only he understands and has a soft spot for lullabies (which makes him weirdly human), though he’ll never admit it without a well-practiced smirk. Also, he’s impeccably dressed and slightly paranoid about forks, which is probably symbolic? Or just him being him.

Thraxus Boorman

Thraxus is chaos in a tailored coat — theatrical, delightfully wicked, and the kind of trickster-villain who loves a dramatic entrance and a pun. He’s brilliant at puzzles and cruel with a capital C, but somehow charming enough that you almost forgive the small betrayals (don’t). He keeps a stuffed raven on his shoulder for “companionship” and also because it’s an excellent distraction; sometimes he cries at sunsets, other times he lights them on fire — mood-dependent, I guess. He revels in complexity, prefers plans within plans, and will absolutely monologue if you give him the chance (but please don’t — it’s part of his brand).