Now that gremlins are a category rather than a monster, jinkins can lay claim to being the default example of the genus. (Vexgits, with their hatred of machines, might have a stronger claim, but they’re just too…insectile to qualify. And who likes insects? Nobody, that’s who. Except these guys. And these guys. And…oh, shut up.)
The Bestiary 2 does a fine job of laying at the thematic hook of gremlins—their need to undermine anything complicated, from the literal (magic items, machines) to the theoretical (social institutions, discipline, etc.). Suffice it to say that (among other havoc) jinkins can ruin a party’s favorite magic item right quick…
No one holds a grudge like a jinkin. Having finally sent a hated dwarf prospector to his doom (tripwire, honey, owlbear), a jinkin finds himself two hundred miles from home. A caravan is just the thing to get him back, if only he can stop himself from sabotaging the entire operation.
Sensing opportunity for unparalleled mayhem, a mob of jinkins used dimension door to enter a newly installed bank vault, looting the shelves and cursing the magic items they found there. They planned to exit in the same fashion an hour later, but they soon discovered the vault had been magically warded from the inside against escape. Trapped for days, the jinkins are now desperate to get out.
The corpulent Blorfinda has a horrible secret: she has given birth to a mite. Terrified she is losing her connection to her fey magic, she whips her infestation of gremlins into a frenzy of magic item thievery and sabotage. Meanwhile, she sends her stirge and dire bat riders on a desperate hunt for a gate to the ancestral fey lands from which she is generations removed.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 2 142
One more reason to be a fan of gremlins: I always dig monsters who team up to gain more special abilities. Like in “basic” D&D, when sprites could team up to curse. Ditto hags.
I’m on Day 8 of an 11-day work “week.” Yesterday, being Day 7 of 11, I refused to call Monday; instead I dubbed it Slurpeeday.