|Not this one.|
This is the second most memorable goblin death I've experienced. The first...
Never mind why they were laying siege to the goblin castle in order to abduct its princess. The assault was going swimmingly. Nobody was even level 8 yet but they had already tamed a trio of black dragons. Most of the goblins fled in fear before they even got to the castle. Those who remained made a morale roll before attacking the intruders.
Few made it, but they charged. The elf let loose with a spell and the dragon with its acidic breath. Many goblins melted. Morale check.
Only one surged on, his pupils dilated with fear, knowing he charged to his certain death yet he DARE NOT STOP...
Whole mythologies develop for this lone goblin between rolls. He has a horrible goblin wife at home who beats him, apparently. One player suggests he's behind on his mortgage. Another suggests a gambling debt, and all the horrible things his king will do to him if he retreats. Every gag tops the next...and I commit to memory, because now this is work I don't have to do.
He gets initiative. Spends his turn charging but not reaching the group. He's crying now, but not blinking, eyes wide open as tears stream behind him like a Czech rhythmic gymnast. It's the players' initiative and the crocman, laden with weapons natural, man-made, and magical, throws a mundane dagger at the goblin. Crit, double damage. He's still alive.
The goblin's face is peeled off as the knife boomerangs around his skull and buries itself in the sand behind him. Face flapping behind him like a bad toupee, unblinking in horror and pain, still he comes!....
One of my Pacifist fighters takes the Goblin's charge. Opts to subdue rather than kill. The goblin lies bleeding and unconscious with one hit point and the party moves on. The night is filled with explosion, PC death, PC death retcon, and the complete destruction of the goblin city. They lose all their dragons and most of their magical shit. Of they few things they can take with them while fleeing, they choose the goblin. They stitch his face back on upside down.
The party decide they're going to make him a pet, but also a safety net. A Charmed goblin princess bids him drink a randomly rolled potion because the group doesn't know what it does and it could be bad. Still with 1 hit point, the goblin is fed the potion. His eyes fly open, bright yellow and reptillian, and he speaks in a loud low growl. His vengeance...it's coming! He gets up to flee the room and embrace his victory...only to be lifted off the ground by a Crit crossbow bolt, stuck into the wall of the party's hideout, and left dangling there, the arrow perfectly threading his ears like Steve Martin.
The party spends the rest of the night dealing with the two irate gold dragons the potion of Summon Dragon brought down on them.
The party called the goblin Lucky.
By the way, THAT is player agency.