On Gajawomps

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“They’re like the gods took a dog, gave it thumbs and then cursed it with the worst luck imaginable. Then they gave it bombs. Why did they give it bombs?!”

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Type	Bipedal Mammal
Relatives	Yukaku?
	Barakleth?
	Goblins?
Distribution	Anywhere
Rarity	Regrettably Common
Height	2'2" - 2'8"
	66-81cM
Lifespan	Short (often shorter)
Diet	Omnivorous
Oath	Landbound

Sometimes the creatures commonly referred to as “goblins” by most of the Pale King's subjects are, in fact, not goblins at all. They are the Gajawomps, a word that means “really too bad” in their own yapping, guttural tongue.

True goblins despise them with a passion that borders on the pathological, viewing them as a mockery of their kind. The gajawomps, for their part, remain blissfully oblivious to this hatred, seeing true goblins as grumpy but oddly endearing cousins.

Gajawomps are small, hunched humanoids with wiry frames and bestial faces, their fur a patchwork of earth tones; browns, grays and a sickly green that seems to blend with filth. Their large, pointed ears twitch constantly, though they are nearly deaf and their sickly yellow eyes gleam with a mix of mischief and malice.

They are a pest species, thriving in almost any environment from dank forests to arid deserts thanks to their remarkable adaptability. Despite their versatility, they are universally reviled. Their aura of misfortune, combined with their cowardice, incompetence and love for explosives, ensures they are never more than a localized menace.

Gajawomps are cursed, or blessed depending on who you ask, with an innate aura of bad luck. Dice tumble the wrong way, weapons break at the worst moment and even the simplest tasks become fraught with peril. The Gajawomps themselves seem immune to the consequences of their own karmic imbalance, though their chaotic nature often leads them into self-inflicted disasters.

They are profoundly cowardly, preferring to attack from a distance or ambush their foes with traps and explosives. Their size and nimbleness allow them to dart through tight spaces and escape danger, but their lack of coordination and penchant for friendly fire often undermine their efforts.

They are masters of hit-and-run tactics, lobbing bombs with reckless abandon and fleeing at the first sign of retaliation. Their explosives produce all manner of inconvenient effects.

While these devices are dangerous, their haphazard use ensures that gajawomps are as likely to harm themselves or their allies as they are their enemies.

Gajawomps live in small, scattered gangs, often lurking near the encampments of other creatures, particularly barakleths and yukaku, whom they seem to idolize for reasons no one can fathom. They set sadistic traps designed to maim and humiliate rather than kill, such as fire ant-filled sacks dropped from trees or pits filled with filth. These traps are as much a source of entertainment for the gajawomps as they are a means of defense.

To encounter a Gajawomp is to experience a day gone horribly wrong. To encounter a gang of them is to invite disaster. For all their faults there is a strange, almost endearing quality to their bumbling malevolence. They are the unlucky ones, after all; perhaps that is punishment enough.

Despite their many flaws, gajawomps are survivors.

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The image of a Gajawomp was drawn by Cally Leung; you can find more of her work here.