Twenty-nine years of age, tall and broad-shouldered, silver-grey hair braided tight on both sides so it cannot be seized in a fight. Deep red eyes, pale skin, an expression so still it is often mistaken for coldness. One of the last active field templars of a martial order that lost most of its senior clergy to a Bone Winter site fifteen years past, and has never fully recovered.

She wields a zweihander two-handed, and despite its size she is fast — footwork and timing over brute force, a single strike usually enough to end a fight. She works almost entirely alone, and the Guild tolerates it only because her record against the undead is nearly spotless.

Soft-spoken and economical with words. Genuinely kind in small, unacknowledged ways — she will tend a stranger's wound and be gone before she can be thanked. Rigidly disciplined, in combat and in daily life, in all matters save one.

Prefers quiet places and people who do not press her to speak before she is ready. Has no patience at all for cruelty toward the weak, nor for hollow piety, nor for anyone who excuses what her order exists to end.

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