In life, Nijahri was very much a handsome thing in the full blossom of youth and health. The features of her face were fine and round despite the harsh realities of life in the great wastes of Anauroch. Her expressions were easily mobile and could be almost predicted by the light in her dark brown eyes. In those very same eyes was a natural cleverness that saw her through the trials of youth and her first steps out into the wider desert as part of the scouting and hunting parties that sustained her tribe. Finally was the black hair that sailed from the crest of her head in a barely ordered cascade to the shoulders, the light catching in the sable flow and making it seem to almost glow in the light of moon and sun.

Her body was little different from the countenance of her face, defined by a certain fullness of figure and the budding definition of muscle that whispered of great strength to come. Her complexion, like many of her kin, was of a warm brown hue and suffused with a glow of health and only further darkened by the merciless weight of the Sun shining down upon them.

In death, little has changed but her skin has paled beneath the light of the moon and her eyes have darkened and turned from the innocent light that once played in them to be replaced by something older and wise but no less warm in it's attentions if she could be coaxed from her shell. Her expressions are no longer so easily read and she seems to smile and laugh with less frequency but life can still be read in her looks and little quirks of expression.

Of course, that changes when the glamours of the blood are allowed to fall by the wayside and one is treated to a paler complexion that hints at the original brown but one deprived of blood. Her smile turns from a warm breeze in feeling to something to chill the blood as razor teeth show from between full lips. Her eyes remain much the same though but take on a faint crimson glow that radiates with both the essential 'humanity' and the hunger that play within her death deprived soul. The face of a young half-giantess only a decade from adulthood dashed upon the rocks and banished beneath the weight of realization that the towering girl is one of the restless dead, a revenant of not inconsiderable prowess and means.

In matters of dress, regardless of whatever mien she wears, is a matter of tasteful practicality and comfort. As proud as any in regards to her form many of her outfits demonstrate it with only a polite nod to the modesty of the other races and cultures that make a home in Waterdeep. Often she favours colours that standout but favour her own darker complexion.

Of course, on occasion people have been treated to witnessing her in the heavy seeming armour that forms the center piece of her adventuring gear. The weight full plate is the hue of fire blackened steel and seems to reflect the light not at all. Beyond that every link and incorporated plate is carefully tended and in excellent form. The demonstrations of Nijahri's own aptitude for the Smith's craft showing clearly.

Even this pales, however, in the shadow of that mammoth blade which Nijahri calls Sekesh. The length of which is forged of blackened steel unique to her nomadic tribe and infused with a measure of the perilous heat of the Anauroch. Runes crawl in intricate spirals along it's length in the tongue of giants evoking the myriad elements that comprise the wastes of her homeland. As a result, the blade's edges glow with a relentless and all-consuming heat whilst that seems to only enhance the devastating harm the blade can inflict upon the ordinary man. As if such were not enough it's great length seems endowed with a singular sharpness that shames the often blunter edges of more mundane great weapons.

It is easy to say then that one is best served to remain out of her way when Nijahri is so attired... As the average man has little hope of stopping or even really slowing the half-giantess.

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