A wiry, small-framed goblin with moss-green skin, oversized amber eyes, and a crooked lower tusk. He wears battered chain mail beneath a patched red cloak, carries a shield painted with a crude golden key, and keeps his holy symbol hidden beneath his collar. His fingers are quick, scarred, and permanently stained with lock oil. A narrow strip of white cloth is tied around one ear as a reminder of the temple that gave him sanctuary.

Suspicious, quick-witted, and fiercely protective of anyone smaller or weaker than himself. Krik speaks in blunt fragments, treats holy vows like business contracts, and is deeply uncomfortable when people praise him. He is brave in emergencies, especially when someone else is trapped, but becomes visibly nervous during ceremonies, speeches, and polite conversation.

Krik Sootfinger grew up beneath the floorboards of a riverside counting house, stealing coins, keys, and unattended lunches for a gang that valued his small size more than his life. He became skilled at slipping through barred windows and escaping across rooftops, but he never learned to enjoy hurting people. During a robbery gone wrong, Krik found a wounded priest locked inside the very vault his gang had been hired to break. Instead of leaving the priest to die, Krik used his stolen tools to free him and carried him through the burning building. The priest belonged to a humble order devoted to protecting the helpless from those who used power as a weapon. Krik expected judgment, but received food, shelter, and a chance to make amends. He could not become a shining knight in the usual mold, so he became something stranger, a goblin paladin who knows every criminal trick in the book and uses them against tyrants, slavers, and corrupt nobles. His oath is still new, his divine power unreliable, and his Charisma almost nonexistent, but Krik refuses to abandon anyone trapped behind a locked door.