Silk shoes scrape stone in a constant, precise rhythm. A jester’s hood droops over a pale, painted face, and a banner pole spins through one hand—filigreed blade flashing as the cloth snaps like a stage curtain. The troupe’s colors stain the air with laughter turned sharp. If the dance falters, the herald’s body sags and grays, dying the instant the music in their limbs stops.
Gobblegeists are massive birdlike monsters with earthtoned plumage, reptilian faces and claws, and a metallic beak edged with sharp teeth. These ravenous creatures descend from forest canopies or hilltops to snatch their prey unawares and carry them off to feed on their blood in solitude. Their single, unblinking eye can unnerve and dazzle more alert prey, making would-be threats an easy meal.
The folk who venerate the Old Ways believe that a seven-pointed star repels gobblegeists. They keep the monsters at bay by painting or weaving star sigils from wicker to hang from their homes or in trees.