“Bootsneak” Nibs - The Goblin

Role in Its Society:

Bootsneak lives in the cracks between bigger predators. He isn’t anyone’s soldier, mascot, or minion—he’s a freelance nuisance-artist who follows traffic, trouble, and opportunity. When a road grows dangerous, Bootsneak gets richer: he steals dropped packs, loots abandoned wagons, sells directions that lead nowhere, and “rescues” valuables from scenes he may have caused. People don’t remember him as a conqueror. They remember him as the reason their belt pouch was suddenly gone, their mule spooked, and their clean plan turned into chaos.

Appearance Description:

Bootsneak is thin-limbed, wiry, and twitchy, with greenish skin mottled by old bruises and scrapes. His ears are big and jagged along the edges like they’ve been chewed by bad luck. One eye is a little cloudy from an old poke, giving him a permanent squint that looks like suspicion (and usually is). He wears a patchwork vest made from cut-down sleeves and stolen buttons, and his prized possession is an oversized pair of human boots cinched tight with rope—so big they flap when he runs. He smells faintly of smoke, damp leather, and something sharp like cheap spirits.

Backstory:

Bootsneak learned early that being small isn’t a weakness—it’s a shape. A shape that fits under wagons, through fence gaps, and into rooms that “big folk” assume are safe. He survived by making himself useful to no one and inconvenient to everyone: stealing food, trading secrets, and vanishing the second blame arrived.

At some point, he started collecting the same kind of trophy every time: a boot buckle, a belt knife, a signet button—proof that he’d been close enough to take what mattered. Now he treats the road like a game board and every traveler like a walking pocket. He doesn’t need a lair full of followers. He needs one dark ditch, one loose board, and one moment of distraction.