Fuli stands dilligently and proud , forged and tempered through countless hardships and torment during his years of imprisonment in Mordor. Now freed, he strikes an appearance befitting a vagabond of sorts, bearing chiseled features wrought upon a pale canvas and wreathed in the twilight of youthful prime. The dwarf's eyes set off easy, their mix of storm and steel caressing and cutting with equal enthusiasm.

Behind those smile-prone lips hid pearly whites flanked by subtly pronounced canines, his grin warm and waywardly wicked more often than not. Upon his carefree brow rests a dark crown, a regal mane of dark-brown hair that he has braided in multitudes.

The rest of him shaped like rock and stone. Similar to the craft of dwarves, Fuli's stocky body appears to resist the tooth of time like few can. Muscle-bound and sheathed in a stocky layer of protective fat, his flesh bearing the toils of past battles.