Hobgoblin

The largest of the goblins, broad-shouldered and shaggy, and by far the most likely to be found in the human world. Hobgoblins attach themselves to human households, labor through the night in exchange for scraps and warmth, and have in the process learned more about humanity than every Faerie scholar combined.

This makes them invaluable and deeply distrusted in equal measure. Nearly everything the Kingdom believes about the "godlike" giants it learned from a hobgoblin, secondhand, and it refuses to admit it.

Appearance

Tall for a goblin — nearly human-child height, which is enormous — with heavy shoulders, coarse hair over most of the body, and hands built for work. A hobgoblin in a human house is usually mistaken for a draft, a mouse, or nothing at all.

Attuned Magic

Hearth: the domestic magic. A nascent hobgoblin keeps a fire from going out, a milk from turning, a hinge from squealing. A powerful one can hold a whole house in good order overnight, make themselves categorically unnoticeable within walls they have claimed, and — the part that alarms Redcaps — extend that unnoticing to whoever they bring inside with them.

Society

Solitary by trade and communal by night. Hobgoblins in service pass information among themselves constantly, and the network that results is the single best intelligence apparatus in either world. Old Mother Ash has been in the same household longer than anyone can verify and is the closest thing the race has to an authority.

Relations

The Kingdom formally forbids crossing into the Waking World and informally depends on it, since Faerie fashion, architecture, and courtly manners are all imitations of human things carried back by travelers and passed off as original. The Goblin King has courted the hobgoblins for centuries with limited success; they have noticed that both crowns want the same thing from them, and that neither is offering a seat.