More commonly known as “dunkles,” cellar-goblins are more of an annoying inevitability than a pest. Mostly harmless, they feed on mice and rats and roaches, often making themselves welcome in cities. They by and large keep to themselves, and rarely have much to do with their various neighbours.
There are several small negatives, however. Notably, they enjoy group choruses in their half-gibberish tongue and will sing all night if encouraged. Songs typically deal with important subjects such as food, food piles, how slimy or hairy the food was, and so on.
And it must be noted that dunkles smell. An aroma like a warm bog on a summer’s day tends to hang about their nests. This used to be the main complaint against them, and was often the cause for their swift eviction, but with so many city dumps and sewers to call home these days, dunkles thrive unnoticed.
The most troublesome issue is their love of shiny things. The monetary value is irrelevant to them, but that is not a sentiment shared with the item’s former owner. Too commonly the first sign of a dunkle family the area is the mysterious absence of glittering objects. Thankfully they can easily be placated with shimmering flint, bottle caps, interesting feathers, and similar.
Oddly, for such brazen creatures, they are deathly afraid of dragon scales. No-one has yet learned why.