Shorter than the average dwarf, he has a timid look about him. Hunched over, a walking stick in hand, the cloaked dwarf wears simple garments of both leather and cloth. Adorned with braids and braclets which have long lost their color, the dwarf's gray beard is a whimsical and ancient sight to behold. His wrinkled face, with clumps of dirt and mostly dust in its crevices, whose cheeks wither like an expiring flower, despite its many folds, is like a block of stone carved out from a mountain side. If it were not for his emerald-green eyes, his appearance would look so common, so drab, that you'd wonder if he had rolled in a big mud puddle all day and then resumed to have sat in the sun in order for the dirt to settle, for hours on end, before repeating the process over and over again.