Glasóg (Glah-SOHG)
Goblin, Gremlin, Imp
To encounter a Glasóg is to stumble upon joy with a face. These bright-eyed tricksters emerge where mischief meets magic—slipping between ferns, giggling from tree hollows, or flipping somersaults across sun-dappled meadows. Their presence is heralded not by fanfare, but by a sudden lightness in the air, the vanishing of a spoon, or the rearrangement of your bootlaces while you weren’t looking. They are misrule wrapped in merriment, and they make no apology for it.
They move like flickers of wind, nimble and unpredictable, their laughter a song that seems to echo even when they’ve gone. They thrive on movement, both literal and social—darting from group to group, gathering stories, spreading pranks, and stirring up moments of surprise. Yet behind the gleeful chaos lies intention: a test of patience, a lesson in perspective, or a gentle unravelling of someone too tightly wound.
In gatherings, Glasóg are kin to music and mayhem. They cook with abandon, decorate with flair, and dance like the world depends on it. They prize invention and improvisation, often reworking traditions into playful pageants that celebrate spontaneity over solemnity. Their communities are woven from laughter, shared stories, and the kind of loyalty only forged through frequent mutual rescue from harebrained schemes.
Physically, they are built for this life: lithe and springy, with long fingers and alert eyes that sparkle with ideas unspoken. They rarely sit still. Even when standing motionless, a Glasóg’s energy hums beneath the surface, ready to explode into action—or mischief—at any moment. They are living expressions of momentum.
Their minds race like their feet. They solve puzzles for fun, redesign tools that don’t need fixing, and treat rules as delightful challenges rather than firm boundaries. But they’re not cruel. Even their sharpest jokes carry a seed of care. In their world, play is sacred, laughter is medicine, and those who take themselves too seriously are lovingly invited to lighten up—with glitter in their hair and frogs in their shoes.
Legends of Glasóg ripple through the Mortal Realm: the helpful house-imp who rearranged a king’s throne room to teach him humility; the meadow trickster who stole a farmer’s bad temper and hid it in a bird’s song. These tales endure because the Glasóg remind us of something simple and essential: life is better with a little harmless chaos
Aetherkin
Basic Information
Biological Traits
Glasóg possess preternatural agility and a low magical field that aids in stealth and minor illusion. They can move quietly even across dry leaves and can create distractions—sound, shimmer, movement—to aid their escapes. Their energy reserves are vast, requiring very little rest, and they recover quickly from both physical and emotional bruises. They’re nearly immune to boredom and famously hard to pin down.
Behaviour
They are exuberant, unpredictable, and deeply communal. Pranks are their preferred language of affection, and storytelling is a competitive sport. Glasóg rarely hold grudges but never forget a slight—instead repaying it with a confounding act of redemption, like redecorating your home in moss and lanterns. They show affection through action, often guiding lost travelers, tending gardens overnight, or lightening a heavy mood with a perfectly timed pie in the face.
Additional Information
Perception and Sensory Capabilities
They see in low light, hear nearly as well as bats, and can smell sweets from half a village away. Glasóg have an uncanny sense for hidden things: caches, secrets, loopholes. They can sense the presence of magic instinctively and often "feel" moods in a room before anyone speaks. Their sixth sense is trouble—not danger, necessarily, but opportunities for misrule, ripe and ready.
Civilization and Culture
Common Myths and Legends
Glasóg are ever-present in stories across the Mortal Realm. They are the brownie under the hearth, the imp in the king’s crown, the sprite who swapped a grumpy man’s beard with a squirrel. From Irish clurichauns to Slavic domovoi and even Japanese zashiki-warashi, the world is rich with playful beings who teach by laughter and live to make mischief kind. In every culture, there’s a whisper of the Glasóg: "Don’t take life too seriously—or they’ll come and help you not to."
Glasóg
| APPEARANCE/PHENOTYPE |
|---|
| Glasóg are small humanoids adapted for agility and forest life. Their ears are long and mobile, turning toward sound, while their hands and feet are prehensile and suited to climbing or crafting. Voices are naturally melodic, often slipping into laughter, mimicry, or song. Their frames are slender and compact, with lean muscle built for bursts of speed and sudden motion. Bones are light, reflexes sharp, and posture often half-crouched, ready for quick escape or mischief. Despite their small size, their energy lends them an outsized presence. Faces are highly expressive with wide mouths, sharp cheekbones, and luminous eyes in vivid colors such as amber, violet, or gold. Skin tones range through shades of green, sometimes speckled or patterned for camouflage. These tones shift subtly with mood or setting, betraying feelings even when expressions conceal them. |
height |
length |
weight |
|---|---|---|
0.9–1.2 m |
N/A |
18–27 kg |
Genetic Ancestor(s)
Scientific Name
Neacha; Draíocht; Europaeus glasóg
Origin/Ancestry
Believed to originate from the magical energies of the earth, they are closely tied to nature and its cycles. Their ancestry is rich with tales of trickery and playful escapades.
