Terb is a youngish canid kobold (cutebold), commonly outfitted in leather armors. If you were to examine his left ear closely, one could see a notched area from a digging accident.
He tends not to talk much, going along with whatever the general consensus of the warren is unless he has a point that he feels needs making. Preferring to stick close to the warren, he tries to gather what he deems useful bits to store in the piles and leave notes for others. He's currently interested in 'da spooky box' closed off deep within the warren.
Likes: Mushroom Stew, weird bits and shinies, squishy slime orbs Hates: Undead, cave-ins, forgetting things
Good at: Observing, fishing, cooking Bad at: Directions, largescale digging, names
After a recent situation with a witch at the humie festival, Terb's entire coat of fur has been slightly blackened and singed due to a magical lightning strike, as well as more mundane cuts and bruises. He still lives, but he's grown more on-edge. The long-term results of this and any reactions with his possessions have yet to be seen.