This old Tuigan woman's face is like saddle leather, etched deeply with hard lines not born of merriment or easy life. Her iron-gray hair is plaited into a thick braid that reaches all the way down her back to her thighs, and despite the weight of years she sits straight in her saddle, back unbent. The curved saber at her hip is worn from use, and under her yellow robes she wears armor that looks similarly experienced. Overall, she projects a definite no-nonsense presence, her gaze like a raptor's as she surveys her surroundings.