Arabella is a relatively nondescript human woman, somewhere in her late teens or early twenties. Dirt streaks her copper coloured hair, which she keeps tied back in a pratical fashion with a piece of string. Short statured, she manages a meager five foot in height, with a malnorished slender frame that does little to add to that. The kind hearted might be concerned a breeze would blow her away.

Her clothes are form fitting and pratical, suited for warmer climes, often she has a backbag slung over her shoulder, stuffed with all manner of useful looking objects.

Her voice is calm and quiet, her gaze soft and often evasive, almost paranoid, her accent that of a city girl and not a particularly well educated one at that.

If anything stands out about her, it is how little does. Her footsteps are as quiet as her voice and she is prone to vanishing from sight if not kept under observation.

Shy and insecure, she is the hero of no-one's story.

You might occasionally have seen her at the Palace of Coins, where she works as a cleaner, scrubbing floors with a look of relentless boredom.