An old dishonored dwarf, still quite spry and optimistic as he plies his well-honed skills in the land of sin. A monk and once devout man of the cloth, Kili has fallen quite far down the rabbit hole in his pursuit of all he was denied in his failed path to enlightenment.

The dwarf prided on his smooth, glossy scalp. spending every morning  shaving and waxing the shiny dome, his beard in contrast was a mess of tangled gray and black.  His eyes were always half-lidded as his body moved with a drowsy gate. His nose was bulbous and flushed and teeth  dyed by the current small cask or bottle he carried on his belt. While he wore fine monastery garb, they were discolored and tattered by his ankles, the dwarf walking miles on those large hairy feet. A career vagrant, it wasn't uncommon to find this man passed out under a nearby tree, patting his hirsute chest  while nursing a hangover.