The globberog is a most curious and repulsive creature that protects its own fragile body with the flesh and bones of other living things. This disgusting lump of quivering meat exudes and can also spit a sticky ooze with which it glues to itself the bodies of those unfortunate enough to fall afoul of it. From these bodies it creates a shell, which over the years can grow amazingly thick and strong, depending on how many creatures or Namegivers the globberog catches.

Any unlucky victim trapped by this spittle remains paralyzed by it unless it breaks down, which begins to occur (if at all) only after more than five hours’ exposure to sunlight. In most cases, of course, the victim does not have this slim chance of escape. If the globberog gets close enough to trap a person or creature by brushing its sticky slime against him, the victim instantly becomes the newest piece in the globberog’s revolting shell. If the thing must spit at its victim to ensnare him, it rarely allows five hours to pass before slithering up to the poor wretch and fusing him to itself. The globberog’s sticky spittle is magical in nature, much like the spit of the bog gob. Victims struggling to set themselves free only worsen matters, the more they struggle, the faster they spread the sickening stuff all over themselves.

Because the globberog builds its shell from whatever creatures or Namegivers it encounters, each shell is uniquely disgusting. More than a few people have been driven mad with grief and revulsion at the sight of friends and loved ones stuck to a globberog’s back, staring vacantly at them from under a glaze of slime. One legend tells of a globberog that entered a kaer and killed all the inhabitants. The poor people and all of the kaer’s treasure were stuck to its outsides, making the thing look like a huge, slithering treasure chest. Though globberogs have no use for the treasures and coins they often pick up, they fiercely resist any attempt to remove these bits and pieces.
The creature under the shell is a soft, hairless lump about the size of a cow, covered in a disgusting ooze. It has four tiny nearsighted eyes that fortunately give it poor aim when spitting.

When the beast begins to build its shell, it sends small veins into the bodies on its back, through which it draws sustenance from its victims. The creatures can only feed in this revolting way, as they have no mouths or stomachs. The veins also carry the globberog’s spittle and keep it flowing across the creature’s entire shell. Because it is constantly exuding a fresh layer of slime, the globberog rarely suffers any ill effects from prolonged sunlight.

When a globberog’s shell finally gets so huge that the creature can no longer move, the globberog detaches itself from the shell and (coincidentally) gives birth to several new globberogs. The newborn globberogs, each the size of a large cat, cling to the inside of the discarded shell, which protects them from most natural predators hungry enough to actually want to eat one of them. The adult globberog stays near its young and will quickly add to its new shell any predator foolish enough to attack its offspring.

As a globberog’s spittle makes an almost unbreakable glue, the glands that produce it can fetch high prices in many cities. Killing a globberog to get these glands requires caution, of course. Many a greedy and feckless adventurer has paid for a lack of planning with his life.


Call of the Vigilant Tribmos