Veshra moves like a coiled spring dressed in soot and silk. Her ashen, pale skin is streaked with faint, iridescent bruises—like maps of old fights—while a pair of leathery, batlike wings fold behind her shoulders and taper into feathered tips, an odd hybrid that rustles like cloth. Dark hair falls in a thick, greasy braid down one shoulder, threaded with dozens of tiny brass tokens taken from past bounties. Her green eyes are bright, narrow and constantly scanning; when she smiles it is small and dangerous. She carries a heavy, nicked battleaxe slung on her back, its haft wrapped in red cloth. Unexpectedly, she wears a child's ribbon braided into her hair near the ear—a contradictory softness against her otherwise harsh bearing.