!4AmhM1cX2w 04/17/10(Sat)02:55 No.9244017|
After gaining enough power, its first instinct is to spirit the city away to a new place, far, far away. No longer working in the shadows, it launches a full offensive on the people, closes up, and burrows deep underground. It travels hundreds of miles to a new location -- often to a frontier of a civilization, far from well-known territories -- and blossoms once again.
It, and the citizens that it farms, enjoy a strange new relationship. They can never leave. If they try to leave, they will die; city streets burst open into yawning chasms of death, or fortified walls riddle you with daggers. The very city becomes your captor. You eat, sleep, and breathe on top of and inside your warden.
It keeps its prey fed, at least. It extends its reach beyond the city walls, although it is much weaker there; just enough to lure in animals to feed the people and perform some rudimentary scavenging for materials (new stone, new wood, etcetera). Still, it doesn't seem to be able to absorb inanimate materials until they've been worked and crafted.
It also seeks to draw in new organic life as well. Though it settles on the frontier, it places itself where it expects people to come soon -- and so, adventurers may find themselves plunging into the forest's edge to soon find that one last boomtown has 'sprung up overnight'.