Being comfortable with the uncomfortable was beginning to feel a lot more like a constant in this ‘adventuring life’ than Jake was fond of. Aside from the long miles, he was having to put up with a lot of rocky terrain. His feet ached, his heels burned, and his calves were tight. The constant, daily toll on his legs was steadily catching him and no amount of Light magic or rest felt as if it was going to soothe the gradual build up of pain he felt. If he was going to make it the entire trip without his legs giving out, he was going to need to take a few days to rest whenever he finally reached a village or town.

Aside from his burning feet, the scent in the cave’s air was almost strong enough to make him gag. Arachkin weren’t exactly individuals that cleaned themselves regularly. Their bodies were musky and the fur over their thick carapace typically collected quite a bit of filth over time. Add in the smell of decay radiating from their food and the culminating, pungent air was almost suffocating. If it wasn’t for Jake’s intimate familiarity with the stench of Maedra, he probably would’ve puked by now.

However, the cramped walls eventually yawed apart, relieving his lungs of some of the oppressive air. In the depths of the Arachkin den, the tunnel was wider and more open after years of being dug into by the Arachkin. The walls stretched outwards as if to accommodate the larger broodmother’s size, along with the numerous spiderlings and juveniles that skittered about. Most clung to the walls, loitering and watching from small web spools as their mother and guest strolled passed them. The young adults bringing up the rear were whispered to by those younglings, questioned by the curious, and they handled the task of quieting those questions to keep the rest of the family out of the ire of their mother..

“He is to not be touched.” Was the order given by their broodmother and it would be followed. If not, it seemed she wasn’t against killing her own children. That was the type of mother she was. Not out of hatred or disgust with her kin but out of respect for the Human who supposedly knew her brother. The brother she had tried so desperately not to abandon but who had pushed her away out of kindness for the future of their bloodline.

In his descent, Jake passed multiple branch tunnels that stretched in every direction, revealing a broad network of connecting passageways that adventurers could get themselves lost in if they wandered off the main path. Within each, Jake’s gaze was returned by dozens of glistening, curious faces. This den was home to multiple broods, multiple birthing cycles, which meant this broodmother was far stronger and competent than she looked. That also meant there were likely multiple males nearby. From how infested the tunnel was, it was no wonder this brood was hunted regularly. Its size begged the question- how did she feed them all?

The tunnel finally widened further as they crossed a threshold and ballooned into a massive underground cavern. Stalagmites and stalactites stretched from the ceiling and floor, reaching towards one another in a desperate attempt to touch. Some did, creating massive towers of rock and stone. A small waterway cut through the far side, appearing and disappearing beneath the walls to places unknown. Several tunnel entrances revealed the tunnel network inevitably routed to here, and several large Arachkin were posted at each threshold. Guards, it seemed.

Then, Jake spotted the food sources for the brood. An entire wall was covered in webbing, from floor to ceiling, and Jake couldn’t count how many cocoons and carcasses littered the white expanse. Dozens of bodies hung from the ceiling. Some were wrapped up on the floor and stuck wherever they could be affixed. Though most were on the wall itself. Skeletons and drained cocoons were piled up in a corner, left to rot and decay for eternity. Or until they could be properly disposed of beyond the den. Beside the wall of sustenance lay piles of adventurer equipment, tools, and stripped gear.

She must have noticed him staring. “Fools. The entire lot.” The Arachkin broodmother rumbled as she admired the wall of her own making. “Ever since I raised my first brood here, they’ve come like an endless wave. Many in search of the fortune you see piled there. Others for the glory of my head.” She chuffed and turned away, continuing towards the back wall of the cavern. “Both of which are hopeless endeavors.”

“From the size of your brood, I can understand why.” Many of those Adventurers likely failed to grasp the sheer number of Arachkin within this den, or they didn’t know in the first place. Following the assumption that none have ever escaped, there was likely an information gap. Any who came to try their hand at fighting the broodmother did so without the knowledge of the sheer force they would encounter. Causing them to either come unprepared for the grueling grind, or come in too few numbers to contend with the Arachkin horde in general. Even Jake couldn’t put a number to the size of the brood here.

“And yet they continue to try. Such is the nature of your kind.” The broodmother led Jake to the far corner of her cavern, then slowly climbed onto the wall where she had spun her own comfortable web. She nestled into its cradle, like a queen sitting upon her throne, and turned to stare down at him. “Fearless, I will give them that, but always lacking. They are undeserving of the lives they were blessed with. Thus, I am happy to make them food for my children.”

Jake chuckled and crossed his arms as he came to a stop a few meters from her throne. He turned towards the feasting wall and watched as several of the younger Arachkin ate. “I wondered how you fed your family. If there is a constant influx of food then I assume you don’t have much of an issue.”

“So long as there are fools who wish to test my brood, there will be food for the next generation.” The broodmother’s fangs chittered as she spoke. “You seemed surprised to find my brood. Were you not aware of us? Did you not hear of the dangers when traveling here?”

Jake shook his head. “No. They likely all came from the west. I came from the east, the Ravine where I met Chul.” Jake set down his pack near the edge of the webbing and then sat on top of it, making himself comfortable for the long chat he expected to have. “As I said, he told me of a sister who had passed through the Ravine some time ago. He never told me exactly where she was. Coming upon your den was more of a coincidence than anything. Though, I would have come looking at some point anyway.”

The Arachkin broodmother tilted her head and lowered down a bit. “And why is that?”

The man pulled Chul’s crystal from his shirt again. This time he took it off his neck entirely. His mother’s crystal tapped against it a few times as they jostled in the air. “Of all of the family he spoke of, you were the only one he mentioned that went to see him after his exile.” Jake stared down at the shard, his lips pressing together as he imagined Chul staring back at him. “...I know he would want you to know what happened to him, and how he felt for you all.”

The broodmother’s fangs tapped together a few times, then her eyes raised to look towards her pair of children behind Jake. They returned her gaze. “You said you fought with him. How did you know of my brother? Tell me, in detail. Please.”

Jake clutched the crystal shard and nodded. “It’s a long story.”

“And we have time to listen.” She lifted her body off her webbing and then her head raised into the air. She addressed her children. “Bring together the brood. I wish for them all to hear of their Uncle.”

“Yes, Mother.” The pair of Arachkin lowered their heads, then quickly skittered away to gather the others.

Jake raised an eyebrow, watching one of them rush towards the feasting wall.

“Many of them look up to Chul…” The broodmother spoke softly as she too watched them. Jake turned to look at her. “My first brood was still in their eggs when I saw him in that dark pit but a few snuck off to see him when I was occupied elsewhere. I know not if they met him, as those mountains are treacherous, but I scolded them severely for it. Afterwards, he was something of an idol for them all. A symbol of strength against the Maedra, against the Adventurers that threatened us regularly, and against those in the mountains who sometimes try to incur upon the den. It made me wonder if something happened during their little… excursion.”

She sighed and lowered to her webbing, her eyes peering towards the crystal shard in Jake’s hand. “I always feared for him when my sisters kicked him out. He was so small, so fragile. A few of us worried that we had made a mistake but our older sisters were firm with their judgement. When I found him again after hearing of an exiled Arachkin guarding the Ravine, it truly made me happy to see him performing a duty he took such pride in. The look in his eyes. It was as if he had found where he belonged, for once.” She let off a small laugh, a low chitter as her memories flowed. Her eyes stared off into the distance, her mind replaying that moment of when she met him.

“When he told me of Lady Rastua’s blessing and her gift to him, I found myself unable to apologize enough to him. I can only imagine the turmoil he must have gone through after he left.”

Jake frowned and conjured up a small pedestal to place the necklace onto, allowing Chul’s shard to rest in the open as she reminisced. “When I was with him, I found him staring off into space quite often when we were resting or when there wasn’t much to do. I sometimes like to believe that he was thinking of his family.”

The broodmother tapped her mandibles together lightly, then she looked towards her gathering family. Several small Arachkin were appearing from the various tunnels, walking slowly towards their mother and human guest. “Was he angry?”

“He said he wasn’t, but he wasn’t exactly happy either. He told me that he blamed you all in the beginning and he was quite upset, but he grew to live with it.” Jake’s eyes remained glued to the shard as he remembered his conversations with the old Arachkin, the voice of his friend returning to his mind after what felt like a long, long time. It brought a slight smile to his face.

“I see…” She murmured. A few of the spiderlings crawled onto her webbing, and she adjusted herself to be comfortable as they crawled atop her carapace.

“Mother, why is there a human here?”

“Can we eat him?”

“Mah- he smells funny.”

“Mum, what’s that shiny thing?”

“I wanna play!” “Stop yelling!”

“Ow, don’t step on me!” “Then don’t walk there, stupid!”

As the number of younglings grew, so did the noise of their chittering. The broodmother closed her eyes and exhaled a heavy, tired sigh. “If you don't shut up, I’ll throw you all into the feeding web for the next brood to eat.” She spoke without yelling, but the tone she took carried all the weight it needed. The fussing ceased and a heavy, patient silence stretched through the brood.

Several of the larger Arachkin positioned themselves around the outskirts, while the smaller ones crowded as close as possible to their mother. Though, around Jake, a large space remained vacant. They clearly gave him a wide berth, careful not to encroach within reach of a potential swing from a sword. Though he was seated, Jake was well armed.

“Children, this is Jake Furrow. He is a friend of your Uncle, Chul.” The broodmother spoke up, calling out to the brood as she introduced their guest. Doing so sparked several murmurs through the group. “It is unfortunate, but your uncle has passed and Jake has come to tell you all of him.”

“Did he kill Uncle?!”

“Yea! I bet he was the one who did it!”

“Silence!” The broodmother immediately belted her voice of quiet, slamming one of her legs into the ground. “Though it pains me to hear of his death as well and I too am led to believe that he may be the cause. However, this man is no typical human. He is an emissary of Lady Rastua. Do you all know what that means?”

Her eyes swept across her brood, looking for any potentially raised hands. Seeing none, she continued. “It means that Lady Rastua has deemed him an ally to the Arachkin, to us. He is our voice at the Table of the Gods and is an Apostle sent by Lady Rastua herself to perform tasks that she herself cannot complete here in our world.”

“What does that mean, momma?” One of the smaller spiderlings chirped from near her feet. “Is he a friend?” The spiderling peeked out and inched to the very edge of the webbing, her tiny eyes looking up at Jake.

“He is, my child.” She gently nudged the baby, the tip of her leg brushing over the baby’s carapace. “A human we can trust.”

“How can you be sure, Mother? What if he made the mark on his own?” One of the larger Arachkins spoke up from the side, her voice carrying through the cavern. It sparked some dissent in the brood.

“The Mark can be faked but its location and its glow cannot be. Show them.” She narrowed her eyes on Jake, who nodded and stood.

The man removed his cloak and once more showed his shoulder. When he channeled mana through it, the ink stirred and the eyes glowed a powerful, ruby red. He turned to show the mark to the brood, which inspired more whispers and murmuring.

“I still do not-” The female Arachkin from before spoke up, but the broodmother raised her front leg.

“I understand some of you may still have your misgivings, as I did as well, but there is a detail not all of you can yet see.” Her eyes narrowed briefly as she peered at Jake. “For those who have the Sight, I encourage you to look at him.”

Jake covered the mark and began to put his cloak back on. As he did so, several of the oldest Arachkin triggered their Mana Sight. Their eyes shifted colors and they gazed at the Human.

“That…”

“Impossible.”

“Mother, that cannot be?”

Suddenly, the largest male stepped forward and raised up higher than the rest. A burly and massive Arachkin young adult who sported several scars already from his battles with Adventurers. He was even missing an eye. “So, it is true, then? If he has Uncle’s source…?”

The broodmother nodded her head. “Chul gifted this Human his mana source, a task only Chul as a Guardian could have done. And as an Emissary of Lady Rastua, Jake was able to bind with it successfully.” The broodmother paused, shifting slightly in her web. “Your Uncle lives on within this man. Though he is not family by blood, he is by bond.”

A heavy silence fell upon the brood as their eyes all lowered onto the Human in their midst. Jake sat down onto his pack, shouldering their heavy stares as he looked towards Chul’s mana shard. He gave them time to process that and also so he could process the title he’d just been given. He wasn’t exactly expecting to be put on such a pedestal himself during this visit.

The youngest spiderling from before looked up at her mother, then towards Jake. Slowly, she crept out from her mother’s protection and, beneath the gaze of the entire brood, crawled up to Jake’s feet. Jake looked down at the tiny spiderling, a baby who was just barely the size of his palm.

“You knew Uncle Chul?” She asked, her eyes unblinking as they reflected Jake’s face.

“I did.” Jake answered. “He was an irreplaceable friend of mine.”

The baby turned to her mother, who nodded softly. Then, the little baby inched towards Jake and raised her front legs. A quiet request. Jake smiled and lowered his hand down, gently scooping the baby into his palms.

“Are you here to tell us about him?” She asked.

“I am. Would you like to hear about your Uncle, little one?” Jake asked, running a hand over the spiderling’s fuzzy carapace. The youngling chittered and shivered in his palm.

Her small eyes turned upwards and Jake looked to her mother. The broodmother nodded. Jake then lowered the spiderling down onto the pedestal beside Chul’s crystal, giving her a chance to poke and look at the crystal closely. He rose to his feet and raised his hands into the air, mana flowing into his fingertips. Conjuring small balls of light of all different colors, Jake utilized his magic to aid in the story.

The story of the banished Arachkin who, through unyielding will and wit, grew into a Guardian unmatched in his territory.

The Arachkin who earned his seat at the Table of the Gods.

The Fallen Emissary of Lady Rastua.

Keeper of the Gates to the Gods.

King of the Ravine.

His dearest friend.

Chul E’tana.

Trees rustled and the sound of heavy breathes echoed through the trees. Clanking armor, rattling bottles and glass, swishing of leather. Noises revealing the approach of several individuals bleed from the forest as the party reached their destination. Exhausted from the long trip, they settled down in a low bowl just a few hundred meters from their destination. Three of the group continued ahead to verify that they were at the planned location while the rest set up camp. Preassigned priorities of work meant there was no conversation once the location was decided upon.

With a simple wave of a hand, individuals set to their tasks and in an hour, a fire was going, tents were propped up, and food was being cooked. Equipment was quickly checked over and those in the roles of support mended armor and weapons that required final touches. By the time the camp was ready, the three scouts returned with good words. Their target was nearby. This was the planned location. Satisfied, the group rested and quietly prepared themselves for their upcoming ordeal. A final meal was eaten and few words were exchanged. Most focused inward, praying to their gods or steeling their minds.

As the sun began to set, the party leader gave some final words of encouragement and then reiterated their objective. Those who were hired to partake were read their contracts again to ensure there would be no conflicts later on, while those who volunteered were made to sign letters of liability. They were here by choice, not by coin, so the rules for them were different.

“Let’s go.” The large man who wore a full set of armor called out from the front, leading the group out of the lower area and up into the mountain. Those who came to assist at the camp remained behind, waiting patiently for a hopefully triumphant return of their party. Or, if not, s third day of no word to come and go.

The party stepped into the maw of the cave, escorted by the three scouts, and then organized themselves into four groups of six. Each had a member clad in thick armor with a heavy shield, a caster who would provide clerical support, a pair of mages strong with attack magic, and two individuals who would support the armored warrior. Three scouts would move between the parties as they progressed into the tunnel, sharing information and ensuring communication lines were kept as the battle progressed. There was an expectation that the groups would eventually separate at some point, so team leaders were established and protocols were set in place should a team fall or be critically injured.

These adventurers were experienced. Well trained in their jobs and battle hardened. Their equipment was above average and even their newest members were knowledgeable in these sorts of raids. The only fault point was that while they held experience as individuals or pairs, they did not as a full group. Thus, the party leader and the team leaders prepared to an almost painful extent. To the point that the members were already quite tired of it all and were ready to get this over with.

One of the scouts crept ahead of the party as they organized themselves and spotted some of the silk on the floor. They called up the other two and the trio investigated the alert system. After some discussion, the trio cut the silk lines and then warned the group. They would likely be ambushed at some point during the descent. When and where would be unknown, but preparations for battle should be made early. The group then adjusted and placed more armored and close-combat effective individuals to the front, with the mages in the back. However, two men remained rather far behind the rest. A bit out of noncompliance and also out of experience with this sort of thing.

One was dressed in dark, worn mage robes and carried an intricate wooden staff. Several jewels were embedded in the wood near the top and a bunch of oddly carved runes were etched in around them. His expression was soft and his eyes looked around rather quizzically, as if taking in every detail about the cave and the environment. His hair was loose and tied into a ponytail down his back.

The other individual wore baggy pants, a slightly loose top that was tucked into his pants and then cinched down on by a belt. A large, round shield was hooked to his back and a short sword dangled off his hip. Chainmail shimmered around his neck, the rings peeking out from beneath his shirt. His hands were covered in small leather gloves that were well worn. Both wore broken in boots that looked to have newer soles that must have been repaired or replaced at some point. He stared straight ahead at the backs of the rest of the party, his arms crossed over his barrel of a chest. His blue eyes narrowed harshly, as if annoyed at everything he saw. His blonde hair was cut short on the sides and kept trimmed on the top, neat and tidy without a single strand out of place.

One of the men had an emerald earring in his left ear, the other had a matching earring in his right. Their faces were also almost completely identical, aside from the varied expressions and minor details such as scars and stress creases.

“Are we ready yet, or what?” Thefighter barked, shouting over the noise in the party. They were malingering at this point and it was pissing him off.

After his shout, the entire party turned their heads to look at him. His partner opened his mouth in a silent sigh, then shook his head.

“The answer isn’t on my face. Are we ready or not?” He snipped, rattling off another aggressive remark. Several members of the party exchanged glances, while the team leaders and some who were fed up with his attitude rolled their eyes. The party leader himself even sighed.

“Yes, we’re ready. Keep your wits, everyone. Don’t panic, mind your distance from each other, and let’s all share a round when we get back.” The party leader gave one final encouraging line to fire up his team, then he pulled his helmet’s faceplate down to cover his expression. The party shared a silent moment of anxious morale before following him into the dark tunnel.

Behind them, the pair remained in place. The mage looked towards the fighter, who let out a heavy sigh.

“Took them long enough,” the fighter mumbled. Before he took a step, the mage slapped his shoulder. The fighter looked over and shrugged. “What? Gonna scold me?”

The mage pressed his lips together, then raised his left hand. Quietly, his fingers moved and signaled. The fighter watched the hand and rolled his eyes.

“Oh stop it. We’ve put up with their crap for the last month. Half of them are going to die anyway.” The fighter waved off the mage and went to take a step, only for the mage to grab his shoulder.

The left hand signaled again, this time more aggressively. The mage’s face contorted a little as well.

“Yes, yes. I get it. Don’t worry, brother. I’ll do my job. But don’t get separated, yea?” The fighter gave the mage a smile and then held out his fist.

The mage looked at the fighter with a tense expression and then his eyes lowered to the hanging fist. After another silent sigh, the mage tapped his fist against the fighter’s. The fighter nodded then strolled ahead, extending his stride in order to reach the party that had already almost left them behind.