Kettig Salo is a plump, full-figured half-elf with broad hips, soft arms, and the grounded balance of someone who has carried kegs up narrow stairs for most of her life. Her gentle smile reveals one slightly crooked canine, while her full lips are almost always stained with berry wine or stew broth. Her skin has the warm brown tone of polished walnut, scattered with pale freckles across her shoulders like spilled oats. Thick dark hair falls in heavy coils to her waist, threaded with copper wire, dried juniper, and tiny white bones from field mice. Her movements are surprisingly quiet for her size. She glides through a crowded taproom, turning sideways at exactly the right moment, as if the room itself makes way for her. The unexpected thing about her is the severity of her hands: blunt-nailed, scarred, and strong enough to split kindling, they contrast sharply with her tender face.