Gobboc
The Gobboc are a peculiar and unexpected offshoot of the Gallus, a result of wild magical mutation, divine abandonment, or strange spiritual drift—depending on who you ask. Where the Gallus were shaped by Vaeril, the God of Birds, to herald the dawn with discipline and courage, the Gobboc seem to be the chaotic remnants left behind—scrappy, resilient, and deeply misunderstood. They are the forgotten roosters of the world, thriving in alleys, swamps, ruins, and anywhere too loud or strange for Gallus pride to persist.
Physically, Gobboc are stockier and more hunched than their Gallus cousins. Their feathers are patchy or wildly multicolored, often forming uneven crests or tufts that flare with emotion. Their beaks are sometimes jagged, and their claws are adapted not just for walking, but for climbing, scrabbling, and scavenging. Their large, expressive eyes reflect a startling intelligence masked by erratic energy or deliberate foolishness. A Gobboc rarely looks regal—but one should never mistake appearance for weakness.
Where Gallus prize order and clarity, Gobboc embrace the absurd. They form loose, mobile flocks in the strangest places: traveling circus troupes, forgotten villages, flying scrap-ships, or root-bound taverns that move once per season. They often act as tinkerers, jesters, wandering prophets, or thieves with surprising insight. Their magic—when it manifests—is unpredictable and deeply improvisational, often combining illusion, misdirection, and small explosions of color, light, or sound. They call it "noisecraft."
Despite their eccentricity, Gobboc are not fools. Beneath their chaotic exterior lies a sharp wit and a deeply ingrained understanding of survival. They thrive in broken places, often guiding the desperate or the lost toward unexpected salvation. Many have turned their backs on Vaeril, claiming he only had eyes for the “beautiful birds,” and instead draw power from trickster spirits, minor Fey, or their own dreams.
Culturally, Gobboc prize individual expression, storytelling, and ridiculous bravery. They mock their Gallus kin not out of hatred, but as a form of rebellion against the rigidity they once followed. Every Gobboc has a "Last Crow"—a tale of the moment they turned away from the dawn and chose the crooked, twilight path. These stories are traded like currency, and the more absurd, the more revered.
In battle, Gobboc are erratic and dangerous. They use unpredictable tactics—feints, sudden charges, misfires that hit anyway, and loud, distracting cries that confuse foes. Some are warriors with clanking armor made of scrap and bone, while others are chaos-wizards who cackle through miscast spells that somehow work.
While many find Gobboc unsettling or infuriating, those who travel with one often find them to be surprisingly loyal, deeply clever, and strangely wise. Their chaos masks a strange sort of clarity: a knowledge that life isn’t always about glory or order—it’s about living, laughing, and getting back up after the last fall.
