Mark of Blood on the Jungle Floor.

[Armadox the Butcher]

We are the Scavengers, we are the darkness that sorrounds you in the cold rainy night. We are the chill that silences your children's breath. We are the scream in the jungle as someone dies. We are death.

The Scavengers are those who call no village home. Who's only purpose is to kill everything living, to make the jungle red. They wear masks to hide their face from the light, and seem to be only able to distiguish themselves from the mass. They come from all cultures, usually to excape from a tramatic life.

Scavengers move acrossed the island like animals sniffing for prey, but it's irratic. They never seem to have a set destination, remarkably all Scavenger's suffer from this, and the phenomenon has been called "Armadox's Compass" after the first creature to show signs of this symptom of Scavengerism.

Their numbers grow every day and there are tell-tale signs of them beginning to move in packs, attacking in mass on larger numbers of victims.