Valerica stands with the rigid, square-shouldered posture of a soldier, though her clothes are anything but military. She has a rugged, sun-baked face peppered with freckles and a nose that has clearly been broken more than once. Her hair is a chaotic shock of wheat-blonde, hacked short with a dull blade. Most arresting are her hands: they are a gnarled map of silver scar tissue and thickened knuckles, looking more like cured leather or stone than skin. She moves with a deceptive, heavy-footed lumber that snaps into terrifyingly fluid grace the moment she senses a threat. There is a strange contradiction in her: she wears a pristine, polished silver Paladin crest pinned to a filthy, sweat-stained leather vest.