Still as tall and imposing as he was thirty years ago during the War, Master Tiniq Dei wears his years well, even compared to other Jedi, and anyone expecting a Master of his age to have turned soft or pacifistic will be sorely disappointed.  Continuing the preferences of his youth, the Kiffar dresses in comfortable, threadbare, robes in shades of dark blues and greys, over scuffed pants and heavy boots of worn black leather, eschewing the creams and tans and browns preferred by most of the Order.  His long dreadlocks, often gathered in a haphazard ponytail that falls down his back, are shot through with streaks of grey, as is the perpetual stubble on his chin, and his dark skin is laced with dozens of scars from blades, blasters, and lightsabers alike - the most prominent being the wickedly curved gouge extending from beneath the leather patch over his right eye...a scar that nearly mirrors the converging pair of red lines that streak down the left side of his swarthy face from forehead to a point just beneath the corner of his mouth.

Without a padawan of his own for several years, Master Dei prowls the halls of the Dantooine Temple like a lion perhaps a bit long in the tooth, but still very much a force to be reckoned with.  Even at over seven decades, he moves with a purpose, the heavy cadence of his boots and the tell-tale clink of the pair of mismatched lightsaber hilts - one longer than the other - at his left hip heralding his approach well in advance.