Scarefolk are constructed beings shaped from wood, straw, cloth, and remnants of the land, often bearing the likeness of scarecrows or harvest effigies. Their forms vary widely—some stitched from burlap and twine, others carved from gnarled branches or crowned with gourds that glow faintly from within—but all carry an unmistakable connection to the fields and cycles that birthed them. Though artificial in origin, they are animated by a quiet, persistent vitality tied to growth, decay, and renewal. Created or awakened through ritual, tradition, or natural magic, Scarefolk are deeply attuned to the rhythms of the land. Many see themselves as caretakers, wardens, or participants in the endless turning of seasons, understanding that life and death are not opposites but parts of the same process. Their presence can be comforting or unsettling depending on the observer—silent watchers in the fields, patient companions, or eerie figures that stand just a little too still. At the table, Scarefolk can be played as gentle stewards, quiet observers, or strange outsiders learning what it means to live among others. Consider how your body reflects your origin—are you carefully crafted, roughly assembled, or slowly changing with each passing season? Do you embrace your role in the cycle, or struggle to define your own purpose beyond it?