The damp stench of a cave dweller hangs about this dark dwarf. Short and stocky, Laduguer enjoys his posture with a slight hunch of the back. His head is lowered to avoid eye contact, the dirty green dreadlocks hiding a weathered face full of disregard. Rock moss hangs loosely from around his mouth, a beard that would eat up a dwarf with jealousy. The skin of this duergar holds an ancient tinge, one of rock and stone, a dull grey. Upon his knuckles small callouses have formed over time that resemble pebbles. Seemingly able to wield a two-handed club in one hand, his huge mitts look much like the open branches of a large dead tree. His old gaze glows as he sluggishly inspects his surroundings through his peripherals. Keeping his movements to a decrepit hault are two stumpy legs, easily capable of holding more than just his own weight. He moans in the air while lugging forward his swampy attire, inching further to wherever his destination is.