Goblin Boss

The last rays of sun chase shadows through the twisted branches of the Ivorian Heathlands as the Goblin Boss emerges—slight, snarled, and dangerous, draped in scraps of stolen armour and loud feathers. When Gungkor strides into the circle of goblin throngs, the mob hushes; blade-tips stop, sneaks flatten in gutters, even the shamans pause their dread rites. The bosses hush their broods when the Heap King speaks.
  Orders barked, traps set, loyalty bought in fear or promise of plunder—this Boss rules not by right but by ruthlessness. Behind the scenes, silent whispers fan ambition, claws are sharpened in darkness, alliances made or broken with the promise of escape from the Heap. On the field, the Boss stands atop crude dais—one hand clutching a rusted banner, the other a chipped dagger—leads raids that smash through unprepared gates, exploits enemy weaknesses learned by Sneaks, Flyers, and Launchers alike.
  To be a Goblin Boss is to be both target and predator. If you kill one, ten more fight to take the title. If you succeed in removing them, the echo of their tyranny lingers—dagger scars in walls, burned sigils in the dirt, and the fear that the next one will be worse.