Maerel Voss moves like a drawn bowstring, all restraint and sudden force. She is broad-shouldered and weather-tough, with a soldier's straight posture that softens only when she is comforting the frightened or kneeling in prayer. Her chain mail is painstakingly cleaned but visibly mended in three places with pale brass wire, and over it she wears a faded green tabard with a sunburst that has been partly stitched over with a river reed motif. The unexpected detail is that her gauntlets are lined with blue silk, delicate as a noble's gloves, because she cannot stand the rasp of metal against old scar tissue. Her left eyebrow splits around a tiny silver ring, and when she is angry the ring flashes like a warning bell.