Known to themselves as The Wakeful, or simply as ‘We’ - The Kamec - the other kind of these Scourge are nothing short of tragic. During the thousand year rest, there have been staggered emergences of these, but they don’t flood into violence on Deep Roads - instead, they shamble around the old tunnels and vaults, where they awake in increments between years of sleep, told to tend the vaults, and fall to slumber once more, filled with an ache for a world that no longer exists. They are people, who name themselves, who scrawl art, directions and symbols upon their walls for the next who might wake up, who live off of fungus and rats, who long for a future and a history.

Some wakeful moments are spent pathing, drawing arrows - and whilst too deep in caverns to emerge before they fall to slumber again themselves, they guide others. As a Kamec, you would find yourself to be one of these, one who had followed the directions toward the surface, by aid of your kin, or your own wakeful moments. One who had emerged to find that the pounding in your head dulled once the river's mouth was reached, and an unfamiliar sun shone on your skin again. You’ve left your brothers and sisters there, in the turmoil of the vaults, to forever repeat their cycles of slumber until they part entirely, but you know that to return - to try and fetch them would be to suffer the same fate once more.

The Kamec have pale skin, so sickly and white that it is transparent over their veins where their flesh is thinnest. Their blood beneath is black, unsettling and thick, and when spilled it is as if ink has been unleashed from their flesh. Their eyes are often weepy with tar-colour tears, and usually wholly dark, or with some lingering colour in their irises alone. Their pupils are usually large and expanded, meaning there is only ever a slither of previous pigment between that and abyssal sclera. Their ears are long, slim - pointed like an elf, yet often corrupted and gnarled into flared ends. The Kamec are taller than other races, and sinewy or muscular. Many cannot grow hair, but when they can, its either a dull and dark grey or black.

To most, they would appear as monsters, their appearance unnatural and ghostly to the good folk of Awenasa. Often, The Kamec may be cut down before they could even get a grasp of the world they have awoken to. They come from a time long before humans of the Old World set foot on this continent, and their initial purpose is lost even to them. It is rare that they ever make it to the surface, though usually it is in small groups where they have managed to help each other survive.

Though unknowing of their past and the truth of their circumstances, they retain some knowledge of old skills - cooking, mending clothes, even basic medicine and chiefly, methods of violence. They fight in a long-forgotten style, unrecorded by Elves and only recently studied by Dwarves. It is a style that prioritises adaptation, making the most of one’s body and any possible method to do harm. Many Kamec do not enjoy that this is chief amongst their talents, yet it is their way of survival in a world hostile to them.

To thrive, are those that recall the fundamentals, memories of empathy, and the one thing that has not changed in the world; people. To become one of them, to learn common, and adapt in order to survive.

The great burden upon them, though, is unending even in the light of the sun. All Kamec experience, to varying degrees, the occasional and complete loss of self-control. They are sporadically overcome, often at the same time as their other kin, with a need to take, dominate, and exert power over others in the same vein that their caverns compelled them to sleep, a low and irresistible thrum. It is usually described by them as a need to control something; to subdue someone of note, or just to bully those nearest into a state of yield. The reason why, though difficult to articulate, is often summarised as; ‘preparation.’ Some accept this strange duty and dedicate to it even when they are conscious of their own actions. These are perhaps the most dangerous of all.