Sword Coast :)

Mopwit stands just over three feet tall, wiry and spry, with mossy green skin and a mop of wiry black hair usually tucked under a battered tricorne hat covered in random feathers and pins. His yellow eyes gleam with mischief, and he’s rarely seen without his lute—decorated with tiny carvings, odd runes, and more than a few bloodstains. His patchwork coat has pockets for everything from scrolls to stolen apples, and his boots never quite match.

Mopwit is loud, clever, and entirely too proud of himself. He cracks jokes at inappropriate times, spins tales even when no one’s listening, and can talk his way out of just about anything. He’s loyal in his own roundabout way, but rarely serious—unless music or his friends are on the line. He delights in deflating egos, poking fun at danger, and outwitting people who underestimate him.

Born in a warren under a city slum, Mopwit clawed his way out of obscurity with sheer wit and an ear for song. He once sang his way out of a beheading and decided then that the stage was safer than the battlefield. But life had other plans. He ended up entangled with a wild adventuring group and stuck with them after realizing they were too fun to leave behind. He chronicled their tales, sometimes embellishing (or entirely fabricating) them.