By Cloak
The Dreaming is a place of splendor; of beauty; of imagination. Imagination, however, always has hidden recesses where the outside world infringes and colours the shadows, painting unseen eyes, toothless gibbering maws, and hungry appetites. Because of this, the Dreaming is not without its Nightmares.
Children wake screaming in the night with the cotton spider webbing of a dream still pulling at their conscious minds; screaming till their parents rush into the room and flick the switch to dispel the shadows and tell the youths everything is all right.
But what happens when all is not right? Or when the Nightmares are in fact true? And what if the majority of time lived by a certain soul is spent within a Dream? From this have come the Scavengers -- fae who have had such a terrible experience that their minds are turned eternally against the Dreaming in an effort to cope.
While there are similarities between Scavengers and Nihilists, the two Dooms are quite different. Scavengers are not overtly depressed. While many do harbour some kind of depression, which they usually cannot place their finger on, it is not the focus of their beings. They are paranoid runners, unable to stay long enough in any one location to hold down any sort of job. Some have overcome this difficulty by becoming truckers, airline pilots, or bus drivers. There does in fact seem to be a common trait among Scavengers of staying relatively close to a specific area, or returning to it occasionally. This is by no means a steadfast rule, however.
The Dreaming, and all it relates to, terrifies the Scavengers. Most try just to avoid it, often destroying it without even realizing what they are doing. Some, a rare few who were horrified by their experiences instead of terrified, now hunt the Dreaming. Even other Dauntain are not outside of their wrath.
Banality has become a close friend to the Scavengers. It cloaks them from other fae. They hide deep within its folds, either comforted by the safety -- or waiting to strike.
Scavengers need support. Those who are docile may be able to be convinced that life can continue with all its splendor, even though bad things happen. Those who are aggressive can be much more difficult to reach.
The Lost: I had a friendly doctor who helped me in the last town I was in. He understood.
The Cursed: I'm telling you they'll hunt me till the ends of the earth! You have to help me!!
Black Magicians: She said she was powerful. I didn't know how perverted she was. If you meet one -- run!!
Nihilists: He was so sad. He spoke of beautiful times, all wilted away. I feel for him.
Apostates: Please, hide me from these mad men! I don't even know why they hate me!!
Typhoids: It could have been me....
Harbingers: He said if I helped him, he'd protect me. I did the smart thing. I left town.
Weavers: I felt safe for a moment with her. But... then I realized she was always watching.