Gibberlings are horrible creatures who lair in the deep places of the world. There they spring forth fully-formed from great, black pools. When they emerge they are already armed with a strange sword that bears no resemblance to anything made by a human culture. These weapons are horrible to look upon and bear strange patterns and etchings that seem to be a mockery of human art.
Their faces are bat-like, like the demon Azazel who they serve. Their bodies are covered in a blue-black fur that makes them difficult to see in the darkness. They are rarely seen outside of their lairs, and since there exist few people brave enough to enter the dark places in which they dwell they are rarely seen at all. They communicate using only chaotic meepings. They whine and gibber and cackle and pop and smack and screech. Due to the large numbers in which they are encountered, the noise they make can be deafening. Many a brave warrior or noble follower has fled even before the creatures came into sight.
Due to the fact that they seldom venture out of their dark lairs, the are the subject of scant few folk tales. Those that exist are used to caution naughty children. There is one which breaks this mold however. Though the Gibberling connection is tenuous, some bards sing of a town that made yearly sacrifices to some force out in the forest. One day a wandering priest entered the town and demanded that the good folk stop this demonic practice. The next day the town was barren. Not man nor beast was seen in the town or the woods around it for miles. All was stillness. And all still is, or so the stories say. The legend places the town as whatever nearby ruin the bard finds convenient to scare his patrons. Still, stories start somewhere.