"Doc" Dumont (Skeleton)
Medium Undead, Lawful Evil
Armor Class: 13
Hit Points: 13 (2d8+4)
Speed 30 ft.
10(+0) 14(+2) 15(+2) 6(-2) 8(-1) 5(-3)
License: SRD5 Open Gaming License
Damage Immunities poison
Damage Vulnerabilities bludgeoning
Condition Immunities exhaustion, poisoned
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 9
Languages understands all languages it knew in life, but can't speak
Challenge 1/4 (50 XP)
Shortsword Melee Weapon Attack +4 to hit, reach 5 ft., (one creature) Hit: 5 (1d6 + 2) piercing damage.
Shortbow Ranged Weapon Attack +4 to hit, range 80/320 ft., (one creature) Hit: 5 (1d6 + 2) piercing damage.
Epitaph Blood-sacrificed his own soul to summon a cosmic horror and destroy the world.
Obituary "Doc" Dumont: one grizzled son of a bitch.

While his early life was quite troubled, it in no way was a source of inner evil or even darkness. He simply spent his days in a surly haze of grey, shuffled from place to place, never finding a home nor a family to call his own. In his longevity, this left Doc gruff and unpleasant, embittered...yet still somehow good and decent, if somewhat buried deep within. Late in life he discovered a camaraderie in the local militia, as well as newfound purpose with his pursuit of medicine and the healing arts. Acting as a front-line medic Doc became the veteran of several wars, including the bloody Goblin Uprising and the Calenburg Crisis. And still, despite the carnage, despite his incessant insults and general misanthropy, he cared deeply for all those around him, treasuring life.

But then, in his waning years, Doc became entrapped, practically enslaved within a bizarre competition held by a repugnant secret society: a last-man-standing battle royale to ascend to a living godhood. At first Doc simply wanted no part of it, but as the event drew to a close he had seen far too many evils to ever be good man again. Men were now not worth the gift of life...and the tournament had become wholly insurmountable and entirely inescapable. His death was close, and soon one of these monsters would become a god.
Doc's life had suddenly slid from a prickly chore to a phlegethonic, boiling hell the likes of which no sane man could bear.

So he snapped and he took his whole world down with him.