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Description

Nature is filled with examples of the nuance between predator and prey. Everyone understands that the fox chases the rabbit, that the wolf chases the fawn, that the bird preys on the worm. Less understand how deeply the lines can blur between the two; how an entity that requires another can live in myriad positive or negative symbioses. The micro-organisms living in an organism's body may work for their benefit, but could become pathogenic in unstable conditions. The ants protecting a tree may remove potential herbivorous threats, but they require something in return. Rats infested with certain flukes will have higher resistance to toxic compounds, but the worms are living things, and this boon does not come free.

Analyze these systems more deeply, and one begins to wonder at the themes of control. All predators need to survive. The fox, wolf, and bird are following the lifestyle with no other feasible alternatives. The micro-organisms in a multicellular body are a result of cause and effect, with no conscious part to play in the process. The worms infesting a host are not just parasites, but dependent entities in thrall to their greater counterpart's provisions. All players in the game of nature play the roles they are assigned. To do otherwise is to forfeit survival. There is no controller, no mastermind, no singular decider that reigns king and keeper.

Sometimes this is also true for monsters.

The Feedermen are the silhouettes of fairy tails; dark and bony things sheltered in cloaks of fantasy. They go by many names - proxy eaters, hunger spirals, ashbodies, standmaws, and more. These obscure beings blur the line between unnatural anomaly and native lifeform, evolving from a sort of phantom ecosystem layered just beside our own. Most of the time, these two niches do not interact: the world of carbon-based life is simply too different from the ones that hide beneath the shadows or hunt in silence through the atoms. Evolution is a fickle beast, however, and nothing stays predictable for long.

Feedermen are entities from their realm that have evolved to take nourishment from our own. To facilitate this, they have forfeitted many of the traits present in their "brethren" and taken on many of ours. Some believe the process has made them a degenerate line, one hollowed-out by its sacrifices to take out what it used to be and replace it with foreign material. Others see it as a powerful fusion of two worlds, an apex example of a niche filled and dominated. Feedermen see it as neither. To them, it is simply the route to take.

A feederman's body is made of an unknown and seemingly hollow substance. By default, they cannot easily interact with the material plane, so they must lure and "trap" atoms within themselves to give their forms definition, a poorly-understood process that produces a negligible but measurable amount of radiation. The result is a creature only partially carbon-based, with just enough to have presence in the world and get the job done. They can move quickly, manipulate objects, blend into shadow, or fade entirely as they choose. Overall, they have many abilities commonly associated with restless spirits.

Of course, a feederman's most notable trait is how it derives nourishment. First, feedermen will select a host. This host is almost always human, as animal hosts seem to make them sickly and deformed. Next, a feederman will entwine its essence with the chosen creature, forcing all meals to be shared. Anytime something is metabolized by the host, it will be fractioned and shared to the feederman who claims them. This process is analogous to the parasitic afflictions of a tapeworm, albeit with a few notable exceptions. For one, there is no limit to the amount of feedermen a host may harbor so long as it remains alive, and "clumping" behavior is often seen among their kind where one shows preference for a human already entwined with others. A feederman's physiology also does not neccessitate nutrients themselves, but rather the intent of nourishment. While it does remove potential resources from the host, this is only a byproduct of its theft of the idea of being sustained, meaning that any kind of food will keep a feederman alive as long as the host believes in the food it eats. This technically means a host can be tricked into eating food with no nutritional value, and the feederman will be healthy for as long as the lie is upheld. This is a poor outcome for feedermen, however, as they are quite invested in the health of their host.

Feedermen are alien, but not unintelligent. They know that their survival comes from their hosts. They also know the limitations of their hosts. Furthermore, they know experiencing a host death is very unpleasant and that disentangling and entwining with another is tedious and difficult. Because of this, they tend to exercise some degree of protection over their hosts. A single feederman will take only what it needs, carefully monitoring the host for signs of malnourishment and even manipulating things behind the scenes to nudge them in the right direction. They are loathe to reveal themselves, but may take fewer precautions if they can sense it will not bring about negative ramifications. This is often a very stable symbiosis, and it may even stay this way. Unfortunately, it also may not.

As one feederman attaches to a host, others tend to gravitate towards them. Seeing one manage a successful connection encourages its brethren, and over time there may be a buildup of them all entwined around a singular provider. They do not actively fight against this process, but seem to exhibit some degree of self-awareness regarding its consequences. As the number of feedermen grow, they exhibit a stronger and stronger protection over their host, as if understanding how many of their livelihoods are at stake should this fail. Their attention to the host's own health remains acute, and they manage more and more of the world to put them in good standing. They also become bolder, or perhaps the sheer weight of their presence is no longer something that can be brushed off. Feedermen will keep a "loaded host" alive as long as possible, and their protection may turn to paranoia if they sense the host is living dangerously or suffering malnourishment. Unfortunately, some people's reactions to being overseen by an otherworldly force is to try and break out of it, prompting even more paranoia and backlash by the feedermen. In worst cases, victims are physically restrained by the creatures, now desperate enough to manifest themselves in plain sight and use their surprising strength and numbers to enforce their will. They will tend to their host whether it wishes for it or not, feeding them, cleaning them, and preventing them from making hazardous choices. If one cannot ever be trusted not to move to take their own life, then one cannot be allowed to move. If one will not eat enough to feed themselves and the mass, then they must be fed.

Fortunately, this is not the usual outcome. One who understands, relents, or simply doesn't care about the changes can enjoy a very high standard of living, as their personal supernatural army works behind (and in some cases, in front of) the scenes. Where they go, they will be protected to the best of the feedermen's abilities. Trusting enough hosts may even see the feedermen at regular intervals acting as servants or simply keeping company, though they do not talk or visibly emote. The only potential downsides are that the host must feed regularly to satisfy the metabolism of the group. Care should also be taken to understand that the feedermen are neither masters nor slaves, but a force in between that should be respected as such.

Most "loaded hosts" live somewhere in-between the two extremes of communication. They understand that they are hungry. They understand that if they do not eat, they will be forced to do so. They also tend to understand that the force driving them to eat is also helping them survive. The feedermen do not possess malice or ill-will, they simply react to the behaviors of their hosts. The symbiosis can be a positive or negative one; a blessing or a damnation. It makes no difference. Their goal will not change.

In exceptionally rare cases, a deformed feederman will entwine its essence with two people at once. This seems to incite a mutation in the being, transforming it into a bulkier and more gluttonous creature. Driven by its ravenous nature, it will spread its essence to more and more people, becoming a powerful entity that feeds off the collective metabolism of hundreds, if not thousands. This version does not aid those it feeds from, since it has no reliance on any particular host. Normal feedermen cannot attach to one touched by this monster, and if someone is already host to another feederman, it is driven to kill that person, as it appears to see its native species as competition. These mutations are not likely to become too problematic, since they are eventually hunted down and killed by the normal varieties. Feedermen are more likely to incite mutation after feeding from a non-human animal.

Description

Nature is filled with examples of the nuance between predator and prey. Everyone understands that the fox chases the rabbit, that the wolf chases the fawn, that the bird preys on the worm. Less understand how deeply the lines can blur between the two; how an entity that requires another can live in myriad positive or negative symbioses. The micro-organisms living in an organism's body may work for their benefit, but could become pathogenic in unstable conditions. The ants protecting a tree may remove potential herbivorous threats, but they require something in return. Rats infested with certain flukes will have higher resistance to toxic compounds, but the worms are living things, and this boon does not come free.

Analyze these systems more deeply, and one begins to wonder at the themes of control. All predators need to survive. The fox, wolf, and bird are following the lifestyle with no other feasible alternatives. The micro-organisms in a multicellular body are a result of cause and effect, with no conscious part to play in the process. The worms infesting a host are not just parasites, but dependent entities in thrall to their greater counterpart's provisions. All players in the game of nature play the roles they are assigned. To do otherwise is to forfeit survival. There is no controller, no mastermind, no singular decider that reigns king and keeper.

Sometimes this is also true for monsters.

The Feedermen are the silhouettes of fairy tails; dark and bony things sheltered in cloaks of fantasy. They go by many names - proxy eaters, hunger spirals, ashbodies, standmaws, and more. These obscure beings blur the line between unnatural anomaly and native lifeform, evolving from a sort of phantom ecosystem layered just beside our own. Most of the time, these two niches do not interact: the world of carbon-based life is simply too different from the ones that hide beneath the shadows or hunt in silence through the atoms. Evolution is a fickle beast, however, and nothing stays predictable for long.

Feedermen are entities from their realm that have evolved to take nourishment from our own. To facilitate this, they have forfeitted many of the traits present in their "brethren" and taken on many of ours. Some believe the process has made them a degenerate line, one hollowed-out by its sacrifices to take out what it used to be and replace it with foreign material. Others see it as a powerful fusion of two worlds, an apex example of a niche filled and dominated. Feedermen see it as neither. To them, it is simply the route to take.

A feederman's body is made of an unknown and seemingly hollow substance. By default, they cannot easily interact with the material plane, so they must lure and "trap" atoms within themselves to give their forms definition, a poorly-understood process that produces a negligible but measurable amount of radiation. The result is a creature only partially carbon-based, with just enough to have presence in the world and get the job done. They can move quickly, manipulate objects, blend into shadow, or fade entirely as they choose. Overall, they have many abilities commonly associated with restless spirits.

Of course, a feederman's most notable trait is how it derives nourishment. First, feedermen will select a host. This host is almost always human, as animal hosts seem to make them sickly and deformed. Next, a feederman will entwine its essence with the chosen creature, forcing all meals to be shared. Anytime something is metabolized by the host, it will be fractioned and shared to the feederman who claims them. This process is analogous to the parasitic afflictions of a tapeworm, albeit with a few notable exceptions. For one, there is no limit to the amount of feedermen a host may harbor so long as it remains alive, and "clumping" behavior is often seen among their kind where one shows preference for a human already entwined with others. A feederman's physiology also does not neccessitate nutrients themselves, but rather the intent of nourishment. While it does remove potential resources from the host, this is only a byproduct of its theft of the idea of being sustained, meaning that any kind of food will keep a feederman alive as long as the host believes in the food it eats. This technically means a host can be tricked into eating food with no nutritional value, and the feederman will be healthy for as long as the lie is upheld. This is a poor outcome for feedermen, however, as they are quite invested in the health of their host.

Feedermen are alien, but not unintelligent. They know that their survival comes from their hosts. They also know the limitations of their hosts. Furthermore, they know experiencing a host death is very unpleasant and that disentangling and entwining with another is tedious and difficult. Because of this, they tend to exercise some degree of protection over their hosts. A single feederman will take only what it needs, carefully monitoring the host for signs of malnourishment and even manipulating things behind the scenes to nudge them in the right direction. They are loathe to reveal themselves, but may take fewer precautions if they can sense it will not bring about negative ramifications. This is often a very stable symbiosis, and it may even stay this way. Unfortunately, it also may not.

As one feederman attaches to a host, others tend to gravitate towards them. Seeing one manage a successful connection encourages its brethren, and over time there may be a buildup of them all entwined around a singular provider. They do not actively fight against this process, but seem to exhibit some degree of self-awareness regarding its consequences. As the number of feedermen grow, they exhibit a stronger and stronger protection over their host, as if understanding how many of their livelihoods are at stake should this fail. Their attention to the host's own health remains acute, and they manage more and more of the world to put them in good standing. They also become bolder, or perhaps the sheer weight of their presence is no longer something that can be brushed off. Feedermen will keep a "loaded host" alive as long as possible, and their protection may turn to paranoia if they sense the host is living dangerously or suffering malnourishment. Unfortunately, some people's reactions to being overseen by an otherworldly force is to try and break out of it, prompting even more paranoia and backlash by the feedermen. In worst cases, victims are physically restrained by the creatures, now desperate enough to manifest themselves in plain sight and use their surprising strength and numbers to enforce their will. They will tend to their host whether it wishes for it or not, feeding them, cleaning them, and preventing them from making hazardous choices. If one cannot ever be trusted not to move to take their own life, then one cannot be allowed to move. If one will not eat enough to feed themselves and the mass, then they must be fed.

Fortunately, this is not the usual outcome. One who understands, relents, or simply doesn't care about the changes can enjoy a very high standard of living, as their personal supernatural army works behind (and in some cases, in front of) the scenes. Where they go, they will be protected to the best of the feedermen's abilities. Trusting enough hosts may even see the feedermen at regular intervals acting as servants or simply keeping company, though they do not talk or visibly emote. The only potential downsides are that the host must feed regularly to satisfy the metabolism of the group. Care should also be taken to understand that the feedermen are neither masters nor slaves, but a force in between that should be respected as such.

Most "loaded hosts" live somewhere in-between the two extremes of communication. They understand that they are hungry. They understand that if they do not eat, they will be forced to do so. They also tend to understand that the force driving them to eat is also helping them survive. The feedermen do not possess malice or ill-will, they simply react to the behaviors of their hosts. The symbiosis can be a positive or negative one; a blessing or a damnation. It makes no difference. Their goal will not change.

In exceptionally rare cases, a deformed feederman will entwine its essence with two people at once. This seems to incite a mutation in the being, transforming it into a bulkier and more gluttonous creature. Driven by its ravenous nature, it will spread its essence to more and more people, becoming a powerful entity that feeds off the collective metabolism of hundreds, if not thousands. This version does not aid those it feeds from, since it has no reliance on any particular host. Normal feedermen cannot attach to one touched by this monster, and if someone is already host to another feederman, it is driven to kill that person, as it appears to see its native species as competition. These mutations are not likely to become too problematic, since they are eventually hunted down and killed by the normal varieties. Feedermen are more likely to incite mutation after feeding from a non-human animal.