Moldenk
Moldenk, singular. Moldenke, plural -- a brace of moldenke, always, because a moldenk on its own is apparently not a thing that happens. They're humans in the nether lands -- the nethermen stock, drawn from whichever of the four tribes has most recently thrown out its difficult teenagers, and they live along the Wisewood's crossland-facing edge, in the gap between two worlds that both consider them somebody else's problem.
They travel light and fast -- bike, skateboard, whatever's got wheels and doesn't need feeding -- and they work the margin where Hellsborough residents get careless because they think they've left the crosslands behind them. A moldenk pair doesn't announce itself. You clock the click of a freewheel behind you, then it's beside you, then your bag's lighter and they're thirty yards off and accelerating.
What makes them worth listening for rather than watching for is that a moldenk pair works the hive mind's edge signal the way a burglar works a street's bin-day schedule -- they know which stretches the the hive mind's attention thins out, and they time the run to it. Ask any jellyhead who's been robbed on the Wisewood path and they'll tell you the mask went quiet a few seconds before it happened, and they didn't think anything of it until afterwards.
They're not violent by choice. A moldenk wants your bag, your bike, your boots if they fit, and gone, and most of them will take the easy version of that transaction if you let them.
Field note: if your psycmask chatter drops out on a Wisewood path for no reason you can place, assume you're being timed. Grip your bag and keep walking.
| Type | Hungry |
| HP | 2 |
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