You see GameMaster Auriane Macaria of Elanthia, an Elven Ranger. Auriane has transcended time.
She is in good shape.

She is holding a mug of black coffee in her right hand.
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 pair of snug russet doeskin breeches, a pair of darkly iridescent sable boots made from the hide of who-knows-what, a low-slung brown leather belt embossed with bronze knotwork, a master falconer's gauntlet with Elven sigils for long life and fair winds stitched on the cuff in shimmering bronze thread, a green bag, a sprig of mistletoe, a copper hedgehog trinket, a hip pouch, a slender bamboo blowgun and a large-faced wrist sundial with the word "Soon" delicately carved into its surface.