This woman is heavyset and weathered, her jowled face defined by deep lines around mouth and eyes. There's a cragginess about her, a weight and inevitability like that of a mountain, but she comes across as careworn rather than simply rough. Her smiles are small but frequent in soft contrast to her gravelly voice.

Her desert-colored clothing is plain and utilitarian—obviously meant for practicality, if all the pockets are any clue. She also wears a battered, shapeless kind of hat over her short-clipped hair. Most striking about her appearance, though, is her missing left arm, which has been replaced by some kind of mechanical limb attached at the shoulder. While the device's resting state seems to be that of a functional artificial hand, it also unfolds and rearranges itself when she works, revealing a terrifying array of small, precise, independently-moving tools and needles.