[CHAR] Dungeon Denizen || A Monster RPG (Closed For Now)

^{Character Sheet Template}

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Name: Your characters name.

Race: Choose from either Goblins (Including Hobgoblins & Bugbears), Kobolds, Lizardmen, Myconids, or Undead (Limited to Ghouls and Skeletons)

Appearance: An image of your character and/or a description detailing your characters appearance.

Role: In the beginning a character has three roles to pick from that makes doing certain things easier or harder depending on which role you choose from the following:

• Warrior: The character fights well in melee combat and perform feats of strength.
• Scout: The character fights in the shadows or from a range and is good at staying hidden.
• Adept: The character fights with rudimentary magic and is knowledgeable in scholarly pursuits.

Biography: A short history of your characters life in the dungeon or before they arrived.

Inventory: Anything you think your character would own, as long as it makes sense.

[Kazemitsu]

Name: Karn

Race: Black-scale Lizardman

Appearance:

Like most Black-scale lizardmen Karn is an utterly massive being. Standing at a whopping twelve feet tall and rippling with muscle he's an intimidating sight to behold. To help keep his balance he has an equally enormous tail, the appendage being roughly nine feet long and unadorned. Littering his body are numerous scars, causing streaks of white or gray in those jet black scales coating him. The only brightness to his body when he's not angry are his eyes, a deep gold color. When angry his throat and upper chest change color to a deep furious crimson.

Role: Warrior: The character fights well in melee combat and perform feats of strength.

Biography:
Unlike a lot of the denizens of this dungeon, Karn was not born here. Nor was he brought in, he found it and entered of his own accord. His tribe having been annihilated several months past save for himself by a band of adventurers. He had finished off the ravaged group, but his body held fresh scars from them. Needless to say, one could not hold several miles of territory by their self and there weren't any other Black-Scale nearby that he was aware of.

So he became a wanderer, looking for a new tribe to either assimilate into or take over himself. During his travels he found this dungeon and entered. A lack of open space was good, the darkness was also good. He could be the ambusher this time and enemies could only come in so many directions with so many numbers thanks to the corridors. But there was a catch to this dungeon, it already had residents.

Needless to say the territorial giant cleared his way to an area he wanted, following familiar-ish scents. While there weren't many there were still lizard-folk within this dungeon and he hunted them down and observed them. He'd later join with them, but they weren't an official tribe group, he was just a resident and a helping hand when might was involved.

Inventory:

• Iron Skull Cleaver: A massive slab or iron in the shape of a cleaver with a skull attached. Its size matches his own, making it nearly impossible for smaller creatures to wield it even two handed.
• Bone Helm: A helm made of the skull of a ram-like creature and yellowed with age. Seems to offer good protection to impacts considering ram's headbutt everything under the sun.
• Old Hides: Aside from just thick and resilient scales he wears pieces of animals hides from various animals. The fur has grayed with age and tattered from numerous skirmishes.
• Bronze Champion Belt: A wide belt made of pure bronze that holds up his hide kilt. It has some scrapes and gouges marring its ornate look and the inch thick metal offers decent protection from slashing, impact, and piercing in the areas it covers.

[Ollumhammersong]

Name: Snulge

Race: Kobold, Dragonwrought

Appearance:

Role:

• Scout: The character fights in the shadows or from a range and is good at staying hidden.

Biography: Snulge was always destined for greatness. He was born dragonwrought, blessed with the hide of the great green dragon and hatched in the temple of the dragon god. Though not blessed with wings or sorcerery he wouldn't let a little thing like details stand in the way of his greatness. Cunning proves a better ally than strength, and even a sorcerer can't cast spells if their throat is slit in their sleep.

Snulge had to bite, scratch and claw his way through the tribe (often literally), and first he had to find a tribe. One of the scattered masses of kobolds in the dungeon with the weakest leader that Snulge could pick out. One that was just begging for a dragonwrought to step in and lead it. Of course the old chief didn't like the idea of surrendering power, but he ended up tragically dying of an accidental case of 'Having one's skull cracked open by a rock on a stick'. A sad condition that often plague's the dungeon's residents.

Thus begins the rise of the GreenScale tribe.

Inventory: Only the finest equipment scavenged and nicked from the corpses and trash-piles of the dungeon. As chieftain, Snulge gets first pick of any loot the tribe aquires and by kobold standards this makes him very well armed and armed.

-Quality leather armour taken of the corpses of gnomes and halflings that have met their end in the tunnels
-A fine dagger of dwarven make held by the last 3 chieftains of the tribe (Only a little rusty!)
-A sling
-A sturdy stone club for braining other kobolds who don't submit, and breaking the kneecaps of anyone else.

[Duthguy]

Name: Irt
Appearance:
Race: Goblin
Role: Scout [Rogue]
Biography: Irt has a simple plan to get as much power as possible for himself, namely trade the weapons and armor of fallen adventures for favors of the more influential dungeon denizens. Unfortunately it's getting harder for him to find anyone willing to help get said equipment due to yet another condition that plagues many dungeon's residents, mainly those who hang out with rogues, getting stabbed in the back when it's time for the loot to be shared.

Despite this setback and the fact he still hasn't had any contact with any of the big shots Irt has made some progress in his goal and has several hobgoblins and bugbears owe him. Most of whom are unknown to him planning to get rid of him to avoid having to repay him
Inventory

• Two simple iron daggers once belonging to a lowlevel halfling rogue, who "donated" them shortly before the backstabbings began to plague any and all of Irt's companions.
• Leather armor.

[Martian]

Tibb the Goblin

Name:
Tibb

Race:
Goblin

Appearance:
Tibb stands at three feet and two inches, about average height for a goblin. What is notable about Tibb is his head that he keeps shaved in accordance with the teachings of a goblin many generations back. His eyes are a dark crimson, not usual for a goblin, and his skin a pale green, very usual for a goblin. Unlike most goblins who are covered in battle scars, Tibb’s body is blemish free as he more often wields a book than a sword. Tibb is always garbed in robes that have been handed down over the years from a goblin wizard who once lived outside the dungeon.

Role:
Adept - The character fights with rudimentary magic and is knowledgeable in scholarly pursuits.

Biography:
Born in the great dungeon, Tibb has known no life outside it. Born into a colony of goblins that have called the dungeon home for many generations, Tibb always stood out. While other young goblins were getting into fights and stealing from one another, Tibb preferred to talk to the other races who called the dungeon home, learning there languages. Tibb even taught himself how to read, allowing him to learn from the few books that still existed in the dungeon. While considered odd by his peers, Tibb attracted the eye of the goblin shaman. The shaman was considering making Tibb his replacement.

Tibb was immediately excited, doubling down on his studies and magic usage. However, that was interrupted by news that more adventurers were coming to loot the dungeon. As this was the only home Tibb has ever known, he was instantly ready to defend it. So for now Tibb has stopped with the shaman training, instead he tries to master spells with which to kill the invading adventurers.

Inventory:
- Tome of Goblin Magic: One of the few surviving books in the dungeon, Tibb has spent his whole life reading, and re-reading this book. Crafted from the notes of various goblin scholars, this tome is half a history of goblins and half a collection of minor spells.
- Ancestral Robes: A pair of yellow and blue robes. These robes are very old and allegedly belonged to a goblin wizard who lived outside the dungeon. As they haven’t been washed in hundreds of years, they smell greatly of mildew and sweat.
- Goblin Bone Dagger: A simple dagger crafted from the bones of a long dead enemy. Even though Tibb is an adept, he is also still a goblin, so he carries this for protection.
- Sack of various items: A small sack carried at Tibb’s side that contains various herbs, bones, and other trinkets needed to cast magic.

[ReusableSword]

Root

Name: Root

Race: Poison Dusk Lizardfolk

Appearance: Root stands 3’4 and has a long tail. His scales can change color and his claws are excellent for climbing. Likes to climb onto tall things or others and sit on their shoulders for better views.


Temperament: Playful unless threatened or hunting.

Role: Scout – Ranged with a bit of magic but doesn’t know how to use it.

Biography: Root was part of a small Lizardfolk tribe that lived alongside a tribe of black scale. The relationship the two tribes had was mutual. They would track and help the lumbering giants hunt and ambush while the big guys helped protect them. One day however, he returned to his village destroyed along with the black scale.

The adventurers that had come were still attacking the lizard men left standing so Rook joined in on the fighting. The paralytic poison he uses on his arrows brought down a two of the adventurers just in time for the black scale known as Karn to utterly obliterate them. Root did what he could to help heal the beast’s wounds with what local plants that he could find.

Now he rides on the giant's shoulder ever alert as they find their way to their new home. at least the dark depths of this new place has plenty of critters to munch on.

Inventory:
- Short bow and arrows.
- poison making kit
- Bolo
- Small knife
- A small shiny ring with a green stone on it that he took from one of the adventurer’s.

[NaturalTendency]

Khoprynis

Name: Khoprynis

Race: Myconids



Khorprynis is on the right

Appearance: At 10 years old,Khoprynis stands at 4'3". Carefully it watches the dark and keeps an eye out for ones that would bring harm to the Coprinus Clan.

Role: Adept:: Khoprynis is one of the few gifted with protecting the clan with her black ink that follows her control. The length of control is up to 15 feet and the amount she can control is enough to fill a bucket. If one is contaminated by the black ink then from the inside out the spores grow. Depending on how much they victim could either withstand the fever and survive, go temporarily child like with delusion, or (worst case scenario for the victim) die as the spores grow from the inside out. Khorprynis can only use this ability twice every 3 hours.

Biography: khorprynis has only known the dungeon. From the moment of awakening to maturity Khorprynis wandered the dungeon with great interest and curiosity learning many things. When matured, Khorprynis showed her ability and gift of protecting the clan, as well as, giving life to more Myconids. With such great honor to the clan Khorprynis vowed it's lifespan to the Clan. The Clan lived mostly in peace without any sight of adventurers they heard of and only needed to defend their territory from other dwellers. Very rarely are they in conflict, though, for all that know of them know how much they can give if shown respect and kindness.

Inventory: The only item Khorprynis carries around is something she took off a dweller that dared to attack the clan. A key. A single rusted key that has a pretty colored stone on it. When cleaned it glimmers like the glowbugs that pass by with a gorgeous green color. This key is kept on a string around Khorprynis neck at all times.

[Zillanilla]

Knull

Name: Knull

Race: Skeleton Mage(Giant Varient)

Appearance: pinterest.com/pin/124200902206198670

(In case the image doesn't show, Knull is an 8-ft tall bleached white skeleton with very thick looking bones. Clothing wise he wears a set of leather battle mage gear under a black cloak. He wears a white mask to fool people about his identity.

Role: Adept: The character fights with rudimentary magic and is knowledgeable in scholarly pursuits.

Biography: In unknown time in an unknown area of the world, there existed a great lich. This lich like many others was overcome by a greedy hunger for knowledge. However the lich was soon overcome with a different desire. It desired a kingdom but not just any kingdom, a kingdom a liches. It desired to rule over its own kind. To make this desire a reality this lich made an army of skeletons with only two purposes, the first to gather the magical knowledge of the world around it, and the second to grow and conquer, and become a lich. After wandering aimlessly for what seemed like decades, a nameless skeleton had found a source of great magical power, it's creator was overjoyed at it's discovery it gave the skeleton a great gift, a name: Knull. Knull's master had order him to grow and conquer the dungeon. Over time the inhabitants of the dungeon began to call him a different name "The Merchant" due to Knull's order to collect knowledge, and sparing whoever was unfortunate enough to cross his path if they provided something of worth.
Inventory:
- The Merchants Grimoire: a grimoire given to Knull upon his creation. Originally it only contained basic magic principles but over time Knull has remained loyal to his orders and has collected a variety of magics from the local denizens of the dungeon but many of them are only basic due to the skill level of said inhabitants.
- Staff of Knull: A staff crafted from the bones of a wizard that had died in the dungeon, the skull at the end of the staff is always shattering so he often has to find replacements.
- The merchants bag: a magical bag that works very much like a bag of holding, all the loot that Knull collects is place in this bag
- Component Pouch: a small pouch filled with herbs and other components needed for Knull to spell cast
-Journal: Many have pleaded and promised Knull something of value in exchange for their lives but could not pay at the moment. Knull keeps a small journal on who owes him debts.

[Moonshadow]

Lilry

Name: Lilry

Race: Lizardfolk

Appearance:
[Link since the image keeps glitching and for Artist Credit]

Lilry is a female Lizardfolk who stands 7'4" tall with faded yellow eyes and rough olive-green scales. She wears leather scraps coarsely sewn together and travels with a crooked wooden staff adorn with odd trinkets and dried fungus/herbs.

Role: Adept The character fights with rudimentary magic and is knowledgeable in scholarly pursuits.

Biography: Born into a small tribe that traversed into the warrens several generations back, Lilry knows very little of the world beyond the dark caverns she was brought up within. She grew up listening to the tales of the Civil War, captivated with fearful respect for the great red skies set ablaze with fire that were sure to sear the scaly hides of any Lizardfolk that traveled too far from their elder's watchful eyes.

Life in the depths of the dungeon have never been easy, many of her kind have been struck down by the larger creatures deep within winding tunnels and over the last few years fewer and fewer that she knew in her youth have been relocated. Left to her own devices, Lilry draws on the innate magic of the dungeon to guide and keep her as safe as possible.

Inventory: Leather armor, warped wooden stave, and a belt lined with four different sized pouches. Hung with leather cord from the short broken branches at the top of her stave are shining stones, crystals, pieces of century-old coin and dried dungeon herbs.

[Darked13]

Brog

Name: Brog

Race: Skeleton

Appearance:

Role: Warrior

Biography:

A long, long time ago, when these ruins were already ruins, a skeleton woke up. Whether he had been a part of rituals of a foul necromancer or some sort of natural thing that happened after you left the dead in the open for a long time, he never knew. Nor never cared to find out. He just walked back and forth a hallway, killing the threats that attempted to pass as that was, for him, certainly what he had to do.

One day, he started wondering why not walk into at the ends of the hallway. Eventually, he did and no longer he felt under compulsion to walk that particular hallway, or to kill whatever was walking past him. That said, he didn't have much to do. So all he did was wander through other hallways. Sometimes tiny creatures would scurry away, other times some beings would attack him. Usually he'd fight, other times he'd run (because it is hard to walk with damaged legs).

Eventually, he learned that not-killing things also worked well. If you don't kill what lies in a room, they won't attack you back. Nowadays, he just wanders around in search on clues to his past and maybe a smith that doesn't attack him on sight.

Inventory:
Rotten Wooden Shield - A shield on its last legs and full of claw and bite marks, likely from creatures that thought they would be the ones to break it.

Rusty Armor - Body Armor with the faded banner of some long lost place. Still hasn't been repaired in ages, but still good to go for a another age.

Steel Sword - A strangely new steel sword, looted from something that was killed not too long ago.

A Pouch of Moldy Coins - Coins likely have a use for those who want to buy something. Just have to clean the mold and rust off.

[Noblebandit]

Eyes-Like-Gold

Name:
Eyes-Like-Gold

Race:
Goblin

Appearance:
Eyes-Like-Gold is a short but stout little beast, standing at 3'6" with broad shoulders and honed muscles. As her name suggests, her eyes are a glistening gold and she has messy brown hair that she tries to keep short.

Role:
Warrior

Biography:
Eyes-Like-Gold was born in a small goblin tribe out on the outskirts of the civilised world. It was an idyllic place, far from any major roads or settlements, where the only threats were the beasts and the occasional farm-boy with more bravery than brains. Life was simple and easy.

Unfortunately, life was also mind-numbingly boring. Wake up, eat breakfast, spend half the day sneaking up to one of the handful of villages to rustle some sheep or grab some loot, realise that you can only take one or two things because the humans are twice your size and none of their things are made for little goblin claws, spend the rest of the day going home, eat dinner and go to bed. She began deliberately making noise in the villages just so she could have a proper fight. There was barely any loot for the taking either, just a bunch of run down hovels that made her bearskin tent look downright palatial by comparison.

Oh, how she yearned for something more!

She was but a sprog when she first heard of the orcs. The tribe's shaman would regale her with many great and terrible tales of the maurading warbands, of the foes they fought, of the towns they pillaged, of the shiny loot they stole. Eyes-Like-Gold was enamoured. Could such creatures really exist? It seemed strange to think that a little tribal goblin like her could possibly be related to one of those mighty brutes, but if the shaman was right and there was a clan of greenskins out there who were taller than the tallest humans and stronger than the strongest man, then maybe they could provide her with the life she had always dreamed of.

But where would one find an orc? The way the shaman spoke of them, it was as though they were creatures from ancient history, but sometimes when she was out on a raid she would hear the humans talk about orcs further inland. When she could get away with it, she would interrogate these humans. She learned how to read just so she could study their books and maps, hoping to find some hint of where the orcs were.

That's when she heard of the dungeons. Those great underground bastions where all manner of creatures could go to find work, store their loot and hide from a world that saw them as no better than monsters. Surely she would meet an orc there? Even if she didn't, there would be other creatures from different parts of the world there who might be able to point her in the right direction. Steady loot, regular fights and a chance to meet an orc: it sounded like a dream come true.

After overhearing a farmer talk about an orc attack on a town she recognised from one of the maps she had stolen, Eyes-Like-Gold said her goodbyes and made her way into the world. Her destination? The Warren! Find the dungeon, find an orc, find a warband. Easy breezy, right?

Inventory:
- A two-handed stone maul.
- Armour made from a patchwork of animal hides.
- An old sketchbook full of charcoal scribblings. The spelling is atrocious and the handwriting hieroglyphic, but it's filled with surprisingly lucid thoughts for a Goblin.
- A satchel for carrying her tent.