Dungeons & Dragons monsters and NPCs

Infernal nobility calls for names with contracts behind them, and these archdevil titles sound born to rule a layer of the Hells.

Courtly and capricious, these archfey names suit the lords and ladies of the feywild, lovely on the tongue and dangerous in a bargain.

Paranoid orb tyrants need names as alien as their dreams, and these many-syllabled titles fit beholders brooding in lightless lairs.

Croaking pomp defines these bullywug names, short and wet sounding, dignified only to frog folk who fancy themselves swamp royalty.

Demon lords demand names with abyssal weight, the kind a cult chants once at midnight and regrets for eternity.

Cruelty drips from these names like acid in a drowned swamp, a fit for black dragons who hoard ruins, bones and despair in equal measure.

Storms crackle behind these blue dragon names, suited to vain desert tyrants who plot in canyons and announce themselves in thunder.

Brass dragons love a long conversation. These warm, talkative names fit the desert wyrms who trade gossip for a traveler's water.

Where a coastline needs a guardian, bronze dragons answer, and their tidal, disciplined names carry the weight of law, sea battles and honorable wagers.

Pranks are fine art to copper dragons. Mischievous names for the joking wyrms who pay good comedians in gemstones.

Gold dragons hold the gravity of temples. Regal, sonorous, each of these names sounds carved into a founding stone.

Honeyed menace runs through these names, made for green dragons who rule mist-choked forests by whisper, bargain and patient lie.

Platinum dragons are so rare that whole faiths form around a single one. Exalted, hymn-like titles for justice made flesh and scale.

Smoke, gold-lust and tyranny shape these red dragon names, each one announcing a kingdom's doom in fire and arrogance.

Kindly but never weak, silver dragons take names with a bright, windswept ring, at home in cloud palaces and long friendships with mortals.

Primal and pitiless, these names match white dragons, feral hunters of glacier and tundra who remember every wrong ever done to them.

Hags collect names the way they collect teeth, and these pair sickly-sweet aunties with surnames that curdle on the tongue.

Unpronounceable psionic names for mind flayers, glistening syllables that feel beamed into the brain rather than spoken aloud.

Soft, sporelike names for the gentle fungus folk of deep caverns, low murmuring syllables suited to beings who speak in drifting spores.

Mossy and slow as sap in winter, these names suit treants and walking trees, rooted in old wood, deep rings and the patience of forests.

Hissed through bared teeth in a reeking warren, troglodyte names favor sour, scraping consonants that fit life far below the surface.