Standing at 5'6 she didn't appear intimidating in the least, the thick grooves which blossomed like a network of rivers across her facial landmass did. Without these marks, these reminders of her failures and poor decisions during combat, she might have been considered pretty by some. At least average by most. Those deep pink and purple ridges were enough to send a shudder down your spine, as though if the stiches in those wounds were to come apart her entire face might fall to pieces. This horrific piece was contrasted by its frame, a lank but healthy mane of hickory coloured hair.    Her eyes held no compassion for the world around here, and it wasn't a far stretch to imagine that she hadn't come to Ambleside to help the ailing population, but to find her piece of glory in the inevitable battles to come.
  Clad in a mixture of leather, steel and cloth padding was the figure of someone who had taken exercise to the extreme. The only feature that could even be argued as resembling female was her rear, and even that was a swollen and muscular as a horse. She held two swords, one on her back and another at her side. All the better to cut you with.