A compact mountain of a dwarf who moves with the quiet, deliberate gait of someone used to carrying barrels and settling fights. He wears a lap-burnished leather apron scarred by years of flames and spilled ale. His beard is braided into three bands tied with copper wire; embedded in the lowest braid is a single small coin with an unfamiliar mint mark. He favors a pair of iron-rimmed spectacles that sit crooked on the bridge of his nose. When he laughs it starts from his chest like a bell and leaves the corners of his eyes damp with mirth. Unexpectedly, one of his fingers is stained with a bright, almost ceremonial blue ink that never seems to wash out.