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Edmede cuts a striking figure on or off the battlefield. A tall, powerfully built woman, whether resplendent in polished armor and wielding sword and shield with obvious skill or clad in finery and holding court with song and story by a roaring fire, even from a distance she is impressive. Up close, however, the truth of her nature becomes clear. The appearance of dusky skin gives way to the reality of fine scales that appear a dull bronze in the shade but flare to a brilliant, bright gold in the sunlight. Her eyes are equally bright, like polished brass and featuring slit pupils. What could be mistaken as a cloak unfolds into great leathery wings, and her fingers, when not covered by gauntlets, end in small, sharp claws. Though her draconic heritage is many generations removed, it seems the blood shows quite strongly in her.

Edmede's features are quite fair and her always open and friendly demeanor only adds to her charm. Her voice, a surprisingly deep, smooth contralto, is often heard raised in joyous song or poem, even in the midst of battle. Like just about everything about her, though, she can wield her words as a weapon, both mundane and magical. As she can sometimes be forthright to the point of bluntness, this is not always to her own benefit. As animated as she can be in a tavern or around a campfire, though, she only truly comes alive in combat, whether a mortal struggle against a hated foe or a friendly spar with a fellow mercenary. She will throw herself into any melee without thought of her own safety and in battle will always work to provoke the enemy to focus their violence on her. It's no surprise, then, that she is covered in a latticework of scars, testament to the blows that managed to pass her defenses. Like all trappings of war, though, she wears them with pride.