Skarsnik

Skarsnik began as the runt of the Crooked Moon tribe, the sort of undersized goblin that gets eaten in most stories. Instead, everything that should have eaten him died — ambushed, poisoned, lured onto someone else's blade — until the runt sat atop the tribe, and then atop every tribe infesting the shattered dwarf city of Karak Eight Peaks. He has ruled its darkness ever since, and styles himself its king.

The Eight Peaks is a three-sided war: dwarfs fighting to reclaim their ancestral halls, skaven boiling up from below, and Skarsnik above, beneath, and behind them both. He fights the way night goblins dream of fighting — never fair, never twice the same way, always somewhere the enemy's maps end. Attackers who beat his mobs discover the mobs were bait; those who avoid the bait discover the tunnel was the trap. And at his side waddles Gobbla, a cave squig grown monstrous on a steady diet of Skarsnik's prisoners, rivals, and under-performing subordinates.

Orc warbosses win their legends by breaking things; Skarsnik has done something no greenskin ever manages — he has kept something. Year upon year, siege upon siege, the banners of the Crooked Moon still hang over Karak Eight Peaks, and every oath to tear them down has so far been sworn by someone who is now dead. The runt intends it to stay that way forever. So far, the mountain agrees.