You notice an odd, almost godly aura about Auriane.

You see GameMaster Auriane Macaria, an Elf.
She has gold eyes, long wavy auburn hair that is tousled, and tanned skin.
Auriane has transcended time.
She is in good shape.

She is wearing a soft white linen shirt with front laces loosely opened and secured at each wrist with supple leather bracers, a tightly-laced leather bodice dyed in the deep shifting greens of an ancient forest, a scarred shoulder brace, a pair of darkly iridescent sable boots made from the hide of who-knows-what, a master falconer's gauntlet with Elven sigils for long life and fair winds stitched on the cuff in shimmering bronze thread, a sprig of mistletoe, a low-slung brown leather belt embossed with bronze knotwork, a large sack and a pair of snug russet doeskin breeches.