The beings of the Blood Red Dreaming are all fictional, which is to say that they live inside stories. Some began life as real people, sometimes more than one real person merges to create an archetype. Some beings are ideas incarnate. They exist as personifications of concepts or seasons, times or places. These beings live in the Shadowlands, because the human mind more readily remembers stories and more readily remembers characters. And so within the human mind, within the Shadowlands, we find many strange denizens- monsters and fair folk, spirits and gods, and eldritch abominations greater and older than any god could hope to be.
The Denizens are divided into several broad categories: The Others, The Inhabitants, and the Archetypes.
The Others
The Others are also divided into several order (arranged here from most to least powerful): Elders, Spirits, Gods, Fair Folk, and Monsters.
All the denizens will assist Sorcerers in the Shadowlands, but all have a price. Elders demand stories. Spirits demand attention. Gods demand worship. Fair Folk (Demons) demand payment. Monsters demand blood.
The Inhabitants
The Ancient Tribes, the People and the Folk: the inhabitants are just that- they are the beings that inhabit the Shadowlands. Not possessed of any great supernatural powers in the universe of the story, the live and get by as they can.
The Archetypes
Arguably the strangest of the Denizens, the Archetypes are Avatars of beings from the Bonelands. But these are reusable hollow avatars and many people will step into the roles of the Archetypes and play the parts of hero and scoundrel and villain.
The Archetypes are Divided into several Groups, which can easily divided into Freepath and Locust Touched.
I am for that thing in your genome that demands it. I am for that thing which keeps you animals alive. I am, at most, a slice of monkey suspended within the stuff of universal intelligence. You are a monkey in nice clothes.
In the harsh environment you refer to as a habitable planet, group behaviors are required to survive long enough to procreate. Since you are stupid monkeys, you have no natural affinity for group altruism.
And so you have evolved a genetic pump that delivers pleasant chemicals to your monkey brains. One that is triggered by awe and fear of an anthropomorphism of your environment. Earth mothers. Sky gods. Bits of bush that catch fire. Interesting-looking rocks. An oddly-shaped branch. You’re not fussy.
When your brain does this idiot work, you stop in front of that bump or stick and consider it fiercely. Other monkeys will, like as not, stop next to you and emulate you. Your genetic pump delivers morphine for your souls. You have your fellow monkeys join in. Perhaps so they can feel it too. Perhaps because you feel it might please the stick god to have more monkeys gaze at it in narcotic awe.
The group must be defended. Because as many monkeys as possible must please the stick god, and you can continue to get your fix off praying to it.
You draw up rules to organize and protect the group. Two hundred thousand years later, you put Adolf Hitler into power. Because you are, after all, just monkeys.
I am your stash.
— Morrigan Lugus, Supergod #3
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