When travelers passed through her little tavern at the crossroads, they often expressed their surprise to find a Kypiq running things behind the bar. Raweth didn't seem to mind the cold; she often pattered across the stones barefoot, and her attire was light, but as thick and green as her homeland. Of course, the roaring fire she kept in her hearth didn't hurt.
So out of place was she in this snowy Reach that some of the regulars often joked that she must have some Brudvir in her blood. At such times, the Kypiq would twist her face as though offered grave insult. "Of course I ain't!" she'd huff. "I can hold my damn drink."