Appearance:

Staki is of average height, standing at four and a half feet tall. He's neither a brawny dwarf, nor particularly rotund; his size is ordinary, if a little pudgy. A beard of coarse flames tumbles down his chest, twisted in intricate braids and plaits, and thick knotted hair of the same shade thrown behind his head. His eyes are crinkled in the corner from squinting at parchment in dim lighting: pinched, narrow and of a warm brown hue, shadowed by bushy brows. From behind his whiskers an inviting smile is visible; he has a bulbous nose, wide cheekbones and thin, nimble fingers. A ring of gold laces through each earlobe, each an inch in diameter and polished.

His attire varies: some days, he dons roughspun wool, leather and furs, fit for travelling; when combing through ancient texts and scriptures, something more comfortable is preferred; if faced with battle, his armament is of scaled steel and boiled leather. Rings adorn his hairy knuckles, crafted from gold, silver and precious stones that glimmer in torchlight. An axe is slid through his belt, though his quill sees more use. Staki is never seen without his old leather-and-sheepskin haversack holding all his necessities: writing materials, numerous books, spare tea leaves and coins in drawstring pouches, and anything else he may need. On his person, tucked away in little pockets, one could find a collection of oddments, including a cast iron pocketwatch, a wooden case holding fragile spectacles, and a queerly bright emerald.

Mannerisms:

As many know, Staki is not a dour dwarf; the amiable twinkle in his eyes and aura of wisdom shows much of his persona. He shows a love for all things to do with knowledge, particularly arcane texts and history tomes. This also brings out the adventurous side in him; many times before, his curiousity peaked, he's delved into dark dungeons for legends carved in stones, or stole into a creatures den by night to study it. Never one to turn down a brimming tankard, Staki can feast and drink as much as the next dwarf, but retreats from merriment sooner than most. His true passion is in peace and quiet, seldom as he gets it.

His mind is of a logical sort; he likes to order and sort everything. Comforts are no foreigner to him, as is told by the bulge of his stomach - which is virtually unnoticeable through his clothing -  and the pipe tucked into his belt. His manners are immaculate, due to all the dealings and meetings he's had with business relations. Staki fancies sipping a fine mead or tea when pooring over his work, and has a habit of twirling the ends of his scarlet facial hair. While he shares the same love of valuables all dwarves hold, it is not as intense as it could be.