Glove of Glory

Each one swears they’re definitely a real dwarf and not a human who’s done that thing where you strap your shoes to your knees and pretend you’re a lot shorter than you are. Prone to loudly professing that they’re not disguised as dwarves to access their healthcare, which is generally considered 50% more advanced and 100% less profit motivated.

Here to give you a big hand. It likes to collect plush dolls and impart life upon them with a snap of its mighty fingers, watching with glee as they brutalize each other in a violent melee before spitefully bringing a fist down on the winner. Prepare for a real brawl with this one - it likes to smash.

Imagine this thing crawling in through your window at night, wheezing with a whispered rasp as it shudders its way up the stairs. It approaches your bedroom, clutching the bell around its neck with a trembling hand, staring through a crack in the door. Watching. Waiting. Admiring you while you sleep. After an hour, maybe two, it cannot resist any longer and it wriggles into the room without moving the door an inch. It’s here. It’s here to lick your eyebrows. It wants the nutrients, you see, the minerals your eyebrows hide. It’s going to do this every Wednesday for a year.