Bob is a red-scaled Dragonborn with a thick, powerful build. His scales are a dull, matte brick color, often covered in a fine layer of dust. He wears battered leather armor that looks like it has seen too many alleyways and sports a pair of dark, unremarkable trousers. He has a stubby snout and a perpetually bored expression on his face.

Bob is the most unremarkable dragon-man you will ever meet. He speaks in a slow, monotonous drawl and generally avoids drama. He treats professional thievery like a grocery list, focusing on the shortest path between points A and B. He has no grand ambitions, he just wants enough gold to eat well and sleep in a bed that doesn't have bedbugs.

Bob was born to a noble clan but found the whole affair of honor and breath weapon practice incredibly exhausting. He left his family when they insisted he participate in a high stakes political marriage, deciding instead that the life of a small-time crook was much more manageable. He moved to the city, changed his name to Bob, and started working as muscle and a lockpicker for local gangs. He has no desire for the spotlight and has survived this long by simply not being important enough to kill. He has worked every job from warehouse guard to sewer runner, always maintaining the same mediocre attitude that has become his signature. Now, Bob takes jobs as they come, hoping to find a score big enough to fund a very long nap. He is a master of blending into the background despite being a six foot tall fire-breathing lizard.