Simply pick it up (taking care, it's likely as large as your head) and take it home. Wash off all the old mold, then put it in an urn. Fill the urn up with whey, a fifth of whiskey, a dozen eggs, and a side of fatty bacon. Cover it up, put it beside your fireplace, and wait a while. Pay no heed to any noises or smells it produces.

After approximately four months, open the urn and pour in some more whiskey. Pour an additional glass, and place it beside the urn. If all went well, you will have succeeded in resuscitating the mole-like hob, who will emerge from the urn fully-formed and hairy. Make sure to dim the lights, to provide a comfortable atmosphere for its beady, roe-like eyes.

The hob will help itself to the glass which you poured, swirling it ruminantly under its ponderous, mustachioed nose. It may then introduce itself, ask for a pair of pants and a woolen hat, and offer you a favor in exchange for resuscitating it. If you're wise, you will accept (the favor of a hob may encompass or surpass such deeds as the building of a castle.) While completing this task, it will drink all the alcohol you own.

Task completed, the hob will borrow a spade and pick. It will excavate a shaft outside your residence (but also possibly in your parlor.) Though you may not see it again (depending on whether you obtain more whiskey) know that you have made a friend.

Homunculite

A sapient, morphogenic variety of corundum. Crystals are highly opaque, ovoid, and possess a deep, bloodred hue. They occur individually, and vary in weight between one half and a full stone (seven kilos at most.) Homunculite crystals occur solely in the thick bands of marble which are so common in the endless subterranea of the Underworld.





When bathed in an appropriately nutritious blend of fat, protein, and alcohol, a homunculite crystal will begin to gestate. Over a period of roughly four months, the stone will develop a skeletal girdle, limbs, nervous tissue, musculature, and skin. The resulting organism resembles a paunchy, neckless, stout biped which stands level with an average human's knee. Its furry features are reminiscent of a mole's. Small, pinched black eyes; a large, wriggling nose covered in protrusile whiskers; and hefty, wide hands with robust nails. This organism is called a hob.





Physiology

Hobben subsist on alcohol. It is a requisite element in their metabolism. The yellow, spongy structure within a hob's head, which contains no brain, is devoted to the storage and breakdown of alcohol. Hobben do consume other foods, but do so infrequently and in immense quantities. A hob's paunch serves as fat storage. It also contains a simple digestive sac. So long as ample alcohol is available, a healthy hob may endure, miserably, for an entire season without eating.





A hob's physiology is incredibly robust. Injuries can only be so severe, given the creature's solid corundum center. This crystal core connects to tissues via nerve-like fibers. It is a nigh invulnerable brain. "Death" occurs only if a critical severance (fire, acid, freezing, dismemberment) arises between the crystal and its fleshly husk. Even after having died, a hob may still be resuscitated from its crystal core with memories fully intact.





A homunculite crystal, once stripped of its body, becomes dormant. It may sleep for an eternity before gestating once again.





Hobben have neither physical sex nor reproductive systems. They "reproduce" by excavating their comrades.





Mining

Hobben society is purely chthonic. It revolves around the subterranean search for homunculite crystals; for brethren who still sleep within the stone. The small folk pursue this task with fervor and solemnity. All their considerable skill in engineering, metallurgy, and mining is set to the epic task of retrieving more fellows from the stone of the endless Underworld. Just as mice are concerned with mating and breeding, hobben are obsessed with excavating more of their sleeping kind.





Immense quantities of ore, marble, and precious gems are the byproduct of hobben excavation. Hobben idly craft these byproducts into items and places of shocking quality and scope. Though they possess treasures in excess, hobben are loath to share, or even to permit other creatures into their halls. Any contact with the outside, they fear, could threaten their sacred mining operations.





Society