Shabbyman
Shabbyman is an Unseelie Redcap Grump, or at least he was... maybe.
Overview
Shabbyman wears an old coat and a rust-colored hat pulled down low over his eyes. He's short and squat, with arms that are just a bit too long and legs that bend in just the wrong way. They say his eyes are blue and his smile is kind, but no one among the living knows that.
Shabbyman lives in alleys and side streets, under manholes and around corners, but he's always himself. Even if they can't explain why, other folks sense something wrong about Shabbyman and don't want to get too close and don't want to stay close if he gets near them. You'll never find Shabbyman warming his hands around a trash barrel fire and trading stories; most would rather be out in the cold than share warmth with the Shabbyman.
They say Shabbyman's got some peculiar appetites. Shabbyman likes children, as the story goes; nice, plump little boys and girls who wander away from home. Shabbyman's the real reason sweet, innocent little children shouldn't run away. When they go one block too far or make the decision not to go back, that's when Shabbyman knows who they are. When they stop for the night or find a dark place to hide, that's when Shabbyman knows where to find them. When they lay down to sleep or close their eyes and pray that it's all gonna go away, that's when Shabbyman's suddenly there.
They say Shabbyman's lookin' for the taste of innocence and that when he finds it he'll fall to dust. Shabbyman hasn't found it yet, though, so he keeps looking. Shabbyman's been seen in every corner of the map, in every city and freehold. Shabbyman doesn't bother wilders or grumps, though he's been known to tip his hat and laugh at those who recognize him. If politely escorted from a fief, Shabbyman will go, but if you try to force him out, the price in tears and blood is always high.
He's welcome in no court and in no kingdom, not that this troubles Shabbyman much. He's old... so old that no one remembers a time when there weren't stories of Shabbyman lurking in the alleys and tenements. There are stories about Shabbyman, or someone who looked like him, stalking the streets of New York during the draft riots of 1863 and in a hundred places and times since. Whether the stories are true or not is no longer important; Shabbyman has become a legend. Every unexplained disappearance of a childling, or a child, gets laid at the Shabbyman's feet. Every new atrocity provokes speculation that Shabbyman has been involved and by making him part of their nightmares, the other fae have made Shabbyman himself into something far, far worse than he could ever have been on his own. Changelings are creatures of dream, remember; made from imagination and fevered belief. What happens when they dream one of their own and what if that dream is a nightmare?
And that's the tale of the Shabbyman... or at least its beginning.
References
- CTD. Kithbook: Redcaps, pp. 63-64.