Raggut Triad

Raggut Triads are not a formal tribe but a survival pattern: three goblins who have been forced into an inseparable hunting band by famine, disease, or capture. A triad will claim a single cave or collapsed cellar and cling to it, scavenging the same rotting carcasses and refuse until their numbers either swell with fresh recruits or dwindle away. The triad's bond is practical more than loyal—they bicker constantly but coordinate with frightening efficiency when prey enters their lair. Bards tell a mean-spirited tavern rhyme about a Rat-Catcher of Breen Hollow who trapped a Raggut Triad inside a pantry and swore they gnawed through a pegged oak door in a single night. Scholars such as Lorekeeper Marin Treg have noted that triads are often a sign of wider ecological collapse in a region: where triads appear, larger goblin bands have been driven off, predators have become scarce, or human settlements have left too much waste. The Chapel of Quiet Hands in Highmere keeps a jar of triad-fang teeth as a warning to children to lock their larders.

Three small, emaciated goblins share a cramped hunched posture. Each is roughly 3 to 3.5 feet tall, with elongated skulls, jutting lower jaws, and rows of yellowed, uneven teeth. Their skin is a sickly olive-grey, stretched tight over visible ribs and hip bones; tufts of coarse, dark hair cling to the back of their necks and forearms. They favor patched cloth and scrap leather: a single too-small cloak is stitched between two of them, and the third wears mismatched belts from which hang scavenged trinkets—an old coin, a rusted thimble, a cracked bone. Their hands are disproportionately long, with dirty, claw-like nails; toes are splayed for balance on slick cave rock. Eyes are mottled amber, pupils dilated from long nights in darkness. When posed together, an artist should show them in a triangular grouping—one low and forward, one flanking, one slightly higher and watchful—so the trio reads as an interdependent unit rather than three individuals.