A towering human woman whose armor has been painstakingly cleaned in some places and neglected in others, as if she alternates between holy pageantry and battlefield ruin. Her plate is ornate but mismatched, with one gauntlet missing entirely and the exposed hand wrapped in blood-stiffened linen. The Tyr insignia on her breastplate is caked with mud, while the edges of her cloak are torn into ragged prayer-strips. She moves with a soldier's discipline that occasionally jerks into a stiff, unnatural pause, like someone listening to a voice no one else can hear. Her smile is the most unsettling part, a wide, forced grin that never reaches her eyes, one of which twitches constantly as though trying to blink away an invisible stain.