Gobbodasunbasha

From the moment he squeezes his bulk onto his poor, snarling mount, it’s clear Gobbo da Sunbasha is no ordinary goblin. He’s the biggest of the lot, a looming slab of muscle and bad ideas, crowned (quite literally) with a twisted halo of splintered wood lashed to his back. To his followers, it’s a divine corona, proof that the Mad Sun burns within him. To everyone else, it looks like he lost a fight with a fence and decided to keep the remains.

His wolf, no larger than those ridden by the common cavalry, carries him with a mixture of loyalty and deep regret. The sight is equal parts inspiring and ridiculous: a hulking goblin warlord perched on a snarling beast that looks two snacks away from collapsing. Still, the pair thunder into battle with terrifying speed, all snapping jaws and bellowed war cries.

In his hands rests a weapon so devastating it seems unfair the gods allowed a goblin to own it. Some say it was forged in the Mad Sun’s fires, others claim he just hit it against enough rocks until it glowed mean. Whatever the truth, it cuts through armor, stone, and common sense with the same reckless ease.

Where Gobbo da Sunbasha rides, the world trembles—not out of respect, but because he’s yelling at the top of his lungs, his wolf is biting everything in sight, and his so-called “holy corona” keeps catching on low branches. He’s not just the biggest goblin. He’s the loudest, the maddest, and, somehow, the one they all follow.