Lobster Armour Goblin

In the marshy gulches where the Heath’s rivers swell with red moon, a Lobster Armour Goblin creaks into view: carapace plated across chest and shoulders, hardened in brine and battle, claws wrapped in scaled metal. Every joint clicks—shell overlapping shell so that even the rain’s drum doesn’t give them away.   They wade through muck and reeds, inching toward the forest’s edge, each step a promise of defense. When arrows fall from trees, the Lobster Armour Goblin stands firm, shell absorbing the strike, claws countering with bitter sting. Hunters and scouts know: these goblins are not for the front-rush of steel, but for the walls, for the swamp’s watery border, for the moments when resistance needs to be both shield and threat.