Tall, lithe and unmistakably sharp, there could be no confusing Kaeraseth for a mere human. Like all children of Commorragh there is an air of inhuman perfection about her but one tainted by a life spent in that cauldron of malice and cruelty. Her pallid skin is more reminiscent of a corpse than purest alabaster, her movements made with a predator’s grace, and her almond eyes are soulless, dark and hungry. There is nothing disarming to her beauty. She is every bit the perfidious xenos that citizens of the Imperium are taught to loathe and fear from birth.

Without her equipment it's impossible to overlook the jagged scar that runs the length of Kaeraseth's outer left forearm. Carved perhaps by shrapnel, with a few more shallow marks higher up her bicep, its colour makes it quite unmissable against her pale flesh.