Shockingly crimson red hair and golden-orange eyes are the  first impression of this lithe feminine shape, five and three quarter feet tall. Her red hair is wavy and bushy, almost flamelike when the sun and the wind catch it. The mass of hair sometimes hides her face with curling tendrils, reaching well below the shoulders but not quite to the small of her back. Golden-orange eyes in deep-set sockets dominate a face whose off-yellow skin is completely free of blemish or beauty mark; her high cheekbones give her a severe air which contrasts with the friendly smile on her thin lips.

 Her attire is minimal to say the least. No armour or weapons of any kind on her person, no adornments, not even tools or any of the gear of the adventurer paraphernalia. Long white silk robes hang on her shoulders, along with body wraps of the same around her limbs, feet, hands. They appear simple beyond reason, though the fabric is of excellent craftsmanship. A skilled seamstress would notice the lack of seams or folds where there should be, as if her costume had been woven onto her silhouette straight from the loom.

 A careful eye will spot on her hands two delicate rings. One of plain stone, probably volcanic. The other one of gold and bearing the mark of Khepri. Through gaps and slits in her robes, one may notice in red and black ink a Phoenix carved into her skin, rising from the ashes as in the legends, at times it looks as if the tattoo itself is exuding whisps of smoke.

 Flying around her, sometimes high above and sometimes just perched on her shoulder, is a miniature phoenix, barely larger than a raven and displaying the red, yellow and white plumage so specific to their kind. The phoenix is ever quiet and observant.

 Nár seems a cautious type, intense and introspective when attending to serious matters. A more mercurial and carefree instinct emerges when the opportunity to relax is both available and appropriate. There is an odd edge to her demeanour, suggesting she sometimes isn’t quite fully there, or is visited by invisible guests.

 In a group, she moves as fast as the slowest member and though rarely the first to offer greetings, she is never the last to bid farewell. She appears to be more used and suited to being alone, often finding it difficult to relate to others or trust their intent.

 Her voice is warm, with this raspy quality that makes it difficult to tell whether it is high-pitched or low, but can be a keen wail or a thunderous roar when roused to violence. Her body seems a magically preserved thing, with none of the scars and blemishes that untold years should have delivered on it.