This crease-lipped little Goblin is living testament that being so short isn't always so bad, though you couldn't immediately tell from her toiled facial expression.

Comfortably fitting below under an average human's belt does wonders for her washed-out presentation. A frame so compact gives little space to the dreaded blemishes and wrinkles of age, the early symptoms of which had already carved an ever-disapproving line through her green forehead... and what a frame it is. Though half a proper lady's size, she certainly has all of one's mass-- the surplus forming its own landscape atop her chest, making for a business card of a cleavage written in black little birth marks and faint, faded scars. Still, those details combined with her exotic silhouette aren't enough to disguise a deficit of youthful crisp on her dry skin.
In an evolutionary defiance of perspective, the Goblin's hips are just as pronounced even to tall onlookers. To say more of them would require a better angle, something a dagger dangling from her belt threatens to provide, as sharp as the quickdraw fingers hanging loosely beside it.














She's not exactly glowing, but she sure seems all green. You want a light out of that, then fire it up.