Zhenya is an unmistakable woman.

She is a tall and ferally beautiful woman, with dark red that flows down past her shoulders like a crimson waterfall.  Hers is a body cut from stone, bearing a hardened muscle which could only have come from a life of labor and tribulation out in the unforgiving Steppes where she was born.  She dresses and outfits herself with a simple and efficient matter designed to keep her mobile.  She was raised to be a horse-bound archer, growing to what humans consider adolescence and adulthood fighting off primarily the forces of the Ruinous Powers.  Indeed, she grew up during the Storm of Chaos, defining her life through war.  She wears waiting violence like a cloak, walking about with the unnatural grace of her elven heritage and projecting an aura strikingly similar to a coiled viper.  She is a dangerous woman, lacking in compassion, tempered in blood, her soul given to the art of war.

Wearing leather jacks and leggings, dangling with a lucky rabbit's foot and a pieces of lightning-struck metal, Zhenya carries with her many weapons.  She bears a demilance, a host of smaller blades fit for throwing and melee, and of course her Kislevite horse bow, coupled with quivers of various arrows.  She rides about on a Kislevite warhorse equipped with a saddle and harness, bearing with her a yurta and saddlebags containing rations, extra waterskins (despite the bountiful presence of water in this verdant paradise...) and other basic supplies.

To see her is to see a woman who does not understand the phrase "at ease," nor the word "relaxed."  She is perpetually alert, scanning her environment with a mix of watchfulness and hopefulness.  The southern lands are Elysium to the elven Ungol, and in order to keep herself from falling into softness, she denies herself privilege and luxury while striving constantly to test herself and maintain her skills.  Eternal vigilance the price of preparation.

Celer et audax