Chapter 6: Ch. 6 – Allegretto

If I had continued going straight at the intersection for about a minute, the path curved to the left and started to let daylight stream in. My new acquaintance had come from there and knocked me senseless into his room on the left. Right was to a small underground pool that was surprisingly pristine but had seen some uses. No wonder Hagash had been distraught at the sudden change.

Wonder if territory land claim acted like a dungeon keeper sim. Some kind of strategy layer that allowed for construction, improvements, other options to make a place yours. Perhaps some backgrounds made it easier to do claims or place things on them. Hagash didn’t strike me as someone with crafting proficiency in general, hence two rooms and barebones furnishing. The fourth tunnel leading down to my sudden resurrection must have been jarring when an otherwise secure shelter suddenly had a new passage.

At least, that’s what I would include. Raid Boss or not, a good home and hearth was important to come back to. I’ve been in a few games, single plus multiplayer, where houses could be customized with furniture and trophies and other doodads. However, the systems also gave passive bonuses if you had sets together or rested in it for a period of time.

Territory was what you put a house on. Lair for all intents and purposes was a house.

Looking closer at that red-yellow-blue-green diamond again over my MAP, red and yellow seemed to be grayed out. They seemed higher on the stereotypical danger scale and consequently probably gated by progression. Lacking a place of my own, I would probably only be able to flip between Wanderer or that green stance forever. I had a hobo spider cocoon in disputed land I promised to not take and no proper base.

Wait, what if Newbie was reading through my memories and already started writing patch notes to install into the World as I thought about these things? Come to think, what was preventing him or a coworker from actively reading a player’s mind as a game master?

By extension, me?

But he did give me a heads-up about how dying worked.

The one-up rainbow coin must’ve had some other contract tied to it that Mister Dwarf, whose name escapes me, weaseled out of by pawning it off. One stipulation among many could be constant telepathy to maintain a steady stream of feedback to whoever was helping design the World.

Hate to say, but I was looking forward to a checkup with my partner-boss sooner than later.

Following Hagash to the surface, he seemed content to let my big Arachne butt trail behind him as we made our way out into the open. I had an amusing fancy of being led down a promenade, honor guard escorting me, ready to preen in front of the masses, or heading a host of Monstrous beings against a city or rival army. World domina-

Warm.

Blinking eyes in unison, I pushed my hood backwards a tad so all eight could experience the first dawn of my new life.

The harsh artificial light my brain must have been interpreting as low-light vision burned away like chaff on the wind as my Arachne frame walked closer to the surface. It felt nice, even if I wasn’t directly under open sky and bright sun. Fresh air, even nicer. A sweet smell managing to waft into the dank cave.

Hagash was surprised as I overtook him, making way for the quiet stamps leaving behind deep divots in the gravel leading up. Creeping vines covered the exit, ancient roots woven through the walls.

“Tribes of the Wind,” I whispered, front pair of legs stretched out just before the threshold to the outside world. Petite little Emerald – I think I’ll call her that – spun into existence with her pretty shear dress. Tambourine in one hand, she smiled as the other trailed along the thick screen of greenery. “Please, dance before my curtain call?”

Wind rushed from behind me as she winked, causing the vines to billow outwards. The gale persisted long enough for both of us to pass without being touched. My mana didn’t even go down for the Litany. Because I asked nicely, maybe?

“Thanks Emerald,” under my breath and flipped down my hood.

I was blind.

Old human Ari put her hands over her eyes. Emphasis, human Ari. Not the reborn Lady Arienna, whose additional six lilac arachnid eyes across her forehead and temples still looked up at the sun while covering her dumb normal blue ones. It took a few seconds to adjust my hood back, shield them but also losing a bit of that extra vision. Maybe a mental health day hoodie was actually completely in place for this World after all.

And why the MAP noted the hood was up as a status.

The fresh morning air was better than any minutely smog-afflicted city on boring old Earth. Better than any countryside flower nursery. Better than any nature reserve. So many strange and so many familiar yet sharper scents. Eyes still closed, my new nose took in all the new senses. I could almost see the various trails in the air like a wonderful kaleidoscope of threads in the mind’s eye, twisting and turning together, all winding their way back to me. All I needed to do was to reach up and wrap one around my finger.

Tug ever so slightly…

I reached up to grab all of them in my hand. Felt weird. Good. Not quite like coming close to the edge or a drug. Felt right. More than right. Addictive. Oh, god, what was this feeling?

If I could just close my fingers and-

+Domain not claimed by Arienna Kestalennetti, level one Bladeweaver Arachne Queen aspirant. Sovereign stance inactive. Champion stance inactive. Wanderer stance active. Ability unable to be used. Warning, attempt logged.+

Opening my eyes, I looked up at a MAP panel floating in front of my vision and the bright blue sky. Birdsong echoed from the treetops. Massive sequoia redwood type trees, rivaling small skyscrapers but these were just as wide. The forest was awakening as we exited the tiny caverns that my new acquaintance had claimed for himself. A river out in the distance. Animals making their noises, quieting here and there when something disturbed their homes. I think I spied a few giant nests or dwellings up in the branches high above for creatures bigger than any I could guess, but I suppose that was to be expected of my new World.

Squinting at the window, it closed as I sighed.

Hold up, attempt logged? The hell did that mean? Did I just pull an Ari cave spawn kerfuffle again but with an entire zone or something?

“Hagash try not laugh, Ari funny looking up sky,” my warband member noted, arms crossed as he waited patiently. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” I replied, attempting to shrug off the strange feelings from the kaleidoscope web in my head and stop lollygagging over nature. “Sorry, I just had to feel sun and wind on my face again. Lead the way!”

My belly gurgled. The still human part, that is. I don’t think spider organs in the Arachne half could make any noise.

I tried playing the sound off as leaning back to pat Mister Rat on the head again. Kinda like passing off the fart noise to someone else next to you. Other hand went to make sure the ribbon dancer cat out of the bag was secure in my hoodie pocket. And totally wasn’t rubbing my stomach.

Was I surprised that hunger was a thing? Not exactly. Was I shocked to know my body could make its desire known in this fashion? Yes, yes I was.

“Hagash guess food first.”

Fuck, he heard it.

“Yes, that would be appreciated,” I responded, holding up my bladed forelimbs and running a finger along them. Still as sharp as when I was reborn, though I did make a show of sharpening them against each other all the same. “I imagine we would need to catch it?”

“River,” he said, pointing his ruined club toward the noise of running water. His lumbering gait began to carry him that way. The off-white hoodie peace offering he wore filled me with a little bit of pride. “Fish in baskets.”

He practiced aquaculture? Huh. Interesting. The stereotypical Troll across games and books wasn’t too high on the IQ scale. Keyword, stereotypical. With the whole reincarnation business and the tiny chance of remembering a past life, for all I know Hagash used to be Bear Grylls the survivalist remembering some of his past skills. Wait, no, Grylls was still alive. I think.

Then again, Hagash was also an elite of some sort and was living on his lonesome. All I wondered about is if they were skills or common things.

Speaking of, something was bugging me. Stuff considered auto attack or common action didn’t have a clear boundary from an activation word skill. I could pick up Mister Rat, slash with my Bladeweaver namesakes, even block as a reaction. At least with magic I could read a manual in the form of the Litany lore blurb, but the quick skate around Features and Traits didn’t show an FAQ or tutorial. Maybe the divide appeared soon as it came to something with a little hand-eye coordination outside arm’s – well, Arachne limb’s – reach. ‘Lash’ plus the sticky web and the ??? ribbon came to mind.

Also, technically both those things were items, maybe even weapons in equipment terms. I dicked around with throwing them myself without a skill word and quickly found out the waste of time it was. My imprinted second nature corrected everything with a word.

Well…

This was a game intended for multiverse dimensional travelers. Even if it wasn’t a conventional videogame with bugs, code, graphics engine glitches, gold farmers and greedy corporate overlords that gated content behind paywalls, it was at the end of the day a game. Maybe I shouldn’t overthink it.

My background, my actual Earthling background, lent an edge in some fields like sciencey facts not generally known in a fantasy realm or offhand lessons from Earthling history.

However, that was it. Hell, sometimes I fucked up following instructions to a microwave a frozen dinner. I could barely process a chicken, let alone debone a fish - which was about to be a practical and relevant skill to have!

Wait, Forester might be able to. Cooking was a profession, right? But wait, what if neither of us had the skill or profession to make food? Did we even need one to do so?

“Chreek.”

I looked behind me as my Arachne chassis trundled alongside Hagash. Thank god it could move independent of where my brain’s thrice damned woolgathering sends me.

Big beady eyes looked up at me with a puzzled expression. Big wide ears, no longer tied down by web though the rest of his body was still decently snug, flicked back and forth rapidly. He looked like he was trying to fly away.

I chuckled.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” I asked quietly. “Mister Rat, how kind of you.”

Reaching over to pat his head and ruffle the fur behind his ears, Mister Rat chirred in response. He didn’t even bother to try biting me either with his newfound freedom. That probably deserved a fish or two for his trouble. I wonder if I could tame him officially through the World system. Hope it didn’t take my third and final Profession slot. Maybe under my Raid Boss powers there was something I could use.

Heavy sigh. Where was Newbie? I should’ve made a check-in schedule. At this rate, the only time he might see me is if I died.

It looked like my Troll warband member had since gone out to harvest his fish cages. Good harvest too, about a dozen juicy large fish I didn’t recognize. They didn’t look particularly dangerous from a distance.

He had stuffed them inside his hoodie’s front pocket. Surprisingly, it worked. The chest armor piece expanded to fit all of them, though he did need to keep his hands over either side of the burgeoning portable hole lite.

Huh. Looks like it did expand to the wearer’s desire. Maybe I should make a couple bags.

+Clothier skill improved. Schematic created: container.+

I felt my spinnerets move. With a sigh, I devoted some brainpower to get ready to produce a prototype or three. Should be easy enough with my Arachne magic cutting through the normal bullshit a tailor had to deal with. Yet, it soon shifted to a giddy smile.

Hagash raised an eyebrow over my self-satisfied grin. This was awesome. Bag space was always a struggle in any MMORPG and some singleplayer games. Now I had the ultimate superpower to get around that absolutely neurotic and unnecessarily annoying mechanic!

Fuck off right to hell, World of Guildcraft: Battle for the Final Witch King Fantasy Sixteen!

Anyways, breakfast.

“Hagash, do you cook or season your food?” I asked innocently. As the silk rolled in, my hands started to shape the new super stretchy containers.

“Ehhhn, most time eat whole. Quick,” he admitted, dumping the fish on the ground a ways from the riverbank. The color of his sweater and my music note motif had stayed on despite the water. “Sometime find nice smell or tasty plant. Salt.”

Sorting out the juveniles by chucking them back in the river, we were left with five. Without much decorum, he brought the club down on the head of one of them with a loud splat. Grisly affair.

I realized the harvest quality went from perfect down to practically zero.

“May I prepare them for us?” was my question, granting stay of execution ever so briefly for the second victim. “I possessed some small skill in such things. A hobby, one could say.”

Shrugging, he allowed me to come over and claim ownership over the harvest.

+Forester skill improved. Domain Information on animal resources added.+

An info panel with what I guess was a loot drop table popped up as my blades got to work. A few quick flashes and fileted meat, scales, bones neatly piled themselves between the two of us. The first category was obviously for food but I identified scales and bones as materials for other Professions. Alchemical reagents mainly, obscure recipes in others. Too many entries flashed at once and I reflexively blinked away the whole panel.

“Woah,” Hagash eloquently commented. “Huh. No need pick bone out of tusk.”

“Mind if I made a fire as well?”

“Nhrrrn,” he growled noncommittally. “Little fire person?”

“I believe so, if he decides to answer,” I replied, unsure myself. “Could you, uh, perhaps put them on skewers? I would, but I can’t, well, reach easily.”

“Ari not able to bend down?” he chuffed, shaking his head. He did however stretch out to his full height, cracking his spine. “Funny for spider la-, A-rack-nee.”

“Well, we are a social race. Rather, were…”

How did the Cataclysm happen? What did it do to Lady Arienna and her people that forced her to slumber underneath the earth? Should I wait to confirm lore with Newbie or someone else, or make up shit on the spot?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked ad libbing things, especially at a tabletop RPG game to throw a monkey wrench into the game master’s plans, but this was an entire living, breathing World that might be affected.

No time like the present.

“We had servants to assist us when our bodies or our magic failed. Others took slaves,” I murmured, crossing my arms and hiding them inside the hoodie pocket while my head bowed. Part of me wanted to sound sad. Another was vibrating with excitement. And, of course, the last clobbered the vibrating part to keep it under wraps. “My House took no part in that barbarism. We employed the willing, though those who wished to show their utmost devotion would undergo a ceremony that would bind themselves to a mistress and their house in a similar fashion.”

“An-cheen magicky?” Hagash supposed, finishing up his task.

“Y-yes,” I continued. “A special kind of an-cheen magicky.”

Okay, little bit out of right field, but what’s a little intrigue? Bite me.

“A-rack-nee tribes no have men?”

“It’s…”

I shook my head. Technically on Earth, lots of monsters had female-only member clubs. Still, different dimension, different rules, can’t give a concrete answer. Didn’t feel qualified to make that call.

“…not a thing I wish to speak on.”

Cool, suave, melancholy. You got this, Lady Arienna.

“Now!” I clapped with a smile. I shrugged my shoulders and slowly pushed the sweater hood off. Sunlight was still weird to deal with. Eyelids were super odd to control for them. Maybe I would need to make a shawl or thin bandana to cover them up but still be able to see twenty-four-seven. They were my primary means of detecting magic, after all.

Raising my violet palm upward, I focused my will on the idea of Flame.

“People of the Flame, rise from my hand!” I sang out. Hagash winced. Obvious healthy fear of fire. Or maybe I switched over to a different language when I cast spells? I perfectly understood and spoke Troll apparently, but couldn’t tell if I spoke different. “I ask of you to cleanse this meal of impurity, let it soothe my hunger and yours as burnt offering.”

Flame muscles guy with the hammer apparated standing in my palm’s pool of Bard magic. The fish sticks, conveniently stuck into the dirt like they would need to be over a proper campfire, caught his attention. Black smoke rolled off his shoulders and head, cigar still present.

“Basically, mister cherry red Coal fire sir, can you please cook these up? You can have one if you like and anything else you might, uh, eat. Burn,” I followed up, gesturing with my hands at the Flame spirit. Flicking an extra eye at my MAP bars, there was a little mana cost on this Litany. “I don’t have anything else to offer right now. Oh, and thanks for the help earlier!”

Moving his cigar from one side of the mouth to the other, Red gave me a thumbs-up. My mana returned instantly as he flicker-stepped from my hand to the ground and then over to the fish, leaving small charred spots as he went. Hopping onto the middle skewer, it immediately caught fire and snapped, beginning to sear the others. The smell was heavenly as they cooked to perfection.

“Fire steal fish!” Hagash exclaimed in horror, pointing his wooden half-club at Red. The Flame spirit proceeded to begin hammering at the plunder, causing large charred spots as it was consumed in the blaze.

“Not quite. If it makes you feel better, I will help offset the cost,” I reassured, watching a skewer reach a lovely shade of brown.

Forester told me exactly when it was cooked thoroughly. Might be an Arachne, but food poisoning was no joke. Tempting Montezuma’s Revenge to appear was something only an idiot would do, like saying Bloody Mary to a haunted house mirror. Unnecessary risk.

With a final pop, the offering crackled into ash. Red waved goodbye and poofed back to wherever I called him from.

Reaching down to grab two of the sticks, my other hand began making designs in the air in front of me. The silk I’d just finished making unfurled itself in the air in front of me as I multitasked to some degree of efficiency. Holding one skewer in my teeth, I used the other as a wand while taking half its meat to give to Mister Rat. I figured that a big backpack for Hagash and a side saddlebag for me was a good investment.

Without something to season it, the meal was downed quickly. Old Ari had her father’s words appear briefly in her ear, saying hunger is the best sauce and to eat the brussels sprouts. I didn’t have a food gauge MAP panel show up, so maybe this was just an expected part of life here.

“Hagash, if you would accept this small token of my thanks,” I finally stated, wiping my hands off on my hoodie. Looking over at the Troll’s curious expression, the simple backpack fitting his large frame plopping into his hands.

The straps were corded together to keep their structure like good handles should. The rest of it however had a little bit of that stretchy business and the Bladeweaver strength to protect the contents. My own bag was the same principle but meant to work like a tank’s armor skirt, looping in and around over a couple of my left spider legs. But, lots of pockets on the inside that’d be easy to access with my hands. And a little slack for Mister Rat to chill out under like a blanket fort.

Heavy sigh. I rubbed my temples.

“Ow! Fuck!” I yelped, one of my middle eyes going dark for a few moments. Murmuring profanities to myself, I resolved to find a mirror so I could get used to my new facial features.

However, I already got laughed at for staring at the sun, I wasn’t going to tempt fate by leaning over into the river to get a look.

“Smell odd like shirt, but Hagash thank,” my warband ally said while letting the bag settle on his back.

Opting to immediately tie the saddle straps around my left legs behind the blade limb, I figured that would help protect Mister Rat. Yay.

“Of course. We are in the same group,” was my reply with a smile. “Onwards to replace your weapon, right? It’s not normal wood.”

You are reading story Arienna’s Cadence at novel35.com

“Good tree. Toward Human small camp though.”

“Proje-,” I started to whisper but cut into a sharper reply, “-what? Humans?”

“Mhrm. Human call it village. Hammet. Hamlet?” Hagash rubbed his chin before picking out something from between his tusked visage. “Not many Human. Hagash sometime walk in own shadow and watch. Look like five, six tribe house-tents and two for animal.”

“Interesting. Let me guess, some of the better choices are close to them?”

“Hnnnrrr, yes.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

“Ari hide in shadow too?” Hagash questioned, looking over my considerable Arachne half.

“No, but I have my ways.”

Ari, in fact, didn’t have ways, but I needed to see what Humanity, big H, looked like in this World. Curiosity was itching like a well dug-in tick. Mister Rat was still chewing on his meal happily, continuing to do so as I gave him some more head pats.

“You’re such a good Mister Rat,” I cooed, twisting further to scratch behind bother ears at the same time. His eyes seemed to have changed color, not completely black anymore. They reflected more color. Or it had my shade of orange. Might be my eight eyes playing tricks. “You might be able to get a leash if you keep behaving.”

Hmm. Leash. Silk leash seemed an interesting concept. Same with handcuffs if I found something fuzzy to leopard print. There had to be a market for that kind of kinky stuff, or maybe people want good apparel.

And yet a collar of Bladeweaver thread for real prisoners, hidden seams disguised...

One flick of the wrist and…

+Schematic created: handcuffs, collar, leash.+

Fuck. Wait. No. I didn’t mean to-

+Schematic progress updated: handcuffs, collar, leash. Variant: Bladeweaver thread added.+

It took every ounce of willpower I had to stop my body from producing some more silk. Like trying to stop a sneeze or bad coughing fit. It wouldn’t work forever and you had to keep on top of it.

So I needed a distraction.

“Out of curiosity, Hagash, what do you hear when I use my magic?” so began my inquiry. “You said you were surprised I could speak Troll. Are you able to understand all my words?”

He paused, collecting thoughts. Then stood up, backpack a little droopy, but that was to be expected with a glorified sack with handles. Even the flap to close it was a few tassels and loops.

“Not know magic make fire man. Ari call fire man Coal and say he take fish. Hagash not like that, by way,” he replied with some exasperation.

“If I didn’t do that, he might not have helped as well as he did,” I countered, also getting up and stretching. All eight of my legs, both my arms, leaning back to rest on my Arachne butt to hear all sorts of satisfying pops. “Do you want him to decide to not help us, say during a fight with your old tribe, because I didn’t give him something in return?”

“When Ari put like that,” the Troll nodded, “make sense. Still, Hagash want fish. Not good catches from river since Human move near.”

That didn’t sound good. Speaking as a former one, Humans did have a tendency to affect their environment in strange and usually negative ways without some form of wise leader corralling their idiotic tendencies.

A bad thought occurred to me. Hamlets were like countryside neighborhoods for people that wanted out of the city, right?

Was there a big city near this forest?

Natural conflict was Humans and nature and whatever lived in it. This World had monsters of myth and legend back on Earth as part of the ecosystem.

Meh, probably fine. They probably had super powerful guards and adventurers to keep the peace. I couldn’t wait to fight them at some point!

“Right. Well, let’s go get you a new weapon and perhaps some of those plants you mentioned.”

///

Forester helped me identify all types of animals and natural life we encountered on the way. Everything got scared shitless as we moved through the undergrowth, probably intimidated by Hagash’s level on one hand and the fact that we were both huge Monstrous beings on the other.

Various critters, fantastical animals, dire creatures, tree breeds, even some plants. Hagash filled in the blanks for which were predators and which were prey – which, technically all were prey at some point for both of us. Properly prepared, Forester determined the correct way to make anything usable as long as it was a creature. We didn’t encounter any intelligent beings it looked like, so I couldn’t determine if they were considered materials.

Wait.

Did I want to even consider that?

What if Forester was half-baked? It could potentially shift into a totally different title but expanded to consider any being fair game. I might be an Arachne now, but you don’t just straight up drop nearly two and a half decades of being raised Earthling. Not without a total lobotomy. Like slate rewriting.

Huh. Could some of these folks be from Earth if the afterlife was the universal common denominator?

Ugh, metaphysics.

I need to stop asking so many questions, but poking holes in the narrative was as fun as being part of it!

Hagash for his credit was picky about what kind of tree he wanted to choose. He didn’t even have a second nature downloaded into his brain, just experience. Newbie didn’t say how long the World had been running. Even then, it didn’t exactly matter if their memories could be downloaded all the same. The World could have been generated at the same time I loaded in.

By the time he’d found something he liked, I regrettably informed him that the Ironwood’s core – generic fantasy strong lumber, I know - was rotted and would most likely break after a few swings against a more powerful enemy. A little bit of arguing later, we compromised.

Take that one for now, search for an even better one. In the end, victory shall always be mine.

Albeit, that meant going toward the Human home. Very close by the time I found a wonderful, healthy tree that reached up towards the heavens. Branches would provide plenty of materials for days to come.

Only problem was how to get at them.

“Alright, let’s try again,” I sighed. Neatly cut rocks and short branches littered the space underneath the damn thing. Wrapping a singular Bladeweaver thread around yet another large stone, I handed it to Hagash. “Do you still really, really want this one nearly halfway up the forest canopy?”

“Yes. And Ari owe Hagash new club,” the obstinate Troll said. Despite the sharp string cutting into his massive hands, he gripped it lightly all the same.

And chucked it into the tree. A thin streamer of fine silk line trailed after it.

It became clear that Lash was out of range so we needed him to huck a stone tied with the razor wire and his athleticism. The goal was to get it just right, wind around the branch, yank and slice off the huge limb. We were a dozen or so tries in. The problem was the Bladeweaver thread lived up to its deadly flavor text, pressing into Hagash’s fingers as well as mincing the rocks.

I was also too bulky as this kind of Arachne to try climbing. Walking tanky Bard I am, slender acrobat I was not.

“Oh? Is this it?” I exclaimed, watching it bump and rattle twice. “Is it going to wrap around it this time?!”

“Bahahaha!”

Oh my god, it worked.

The rock zipped over the target. Whacked against the one behind it and ricocheted at the right angle.

Around and round it goes.

Round and round it goes.

“Round and round and rooound it g-,” I sang out from my inner monologue until I realized rock chunks clattered down. Mortified, my fingers grasped at the glorified fishing line. Pulled. Oh god, please, tell me the strands got snagged around the big branch before destroying the rock!

And a satisfying crunchy sawing noise was my reward. Our warband’s reward.

Quickly willing the Bladeweaver thread to coil back in on itself, it highlighted a vibrant purple from the amount of power exerted on itself. Zipping into my hand, I tucked it into a saddle pocket. Hagash then climbed up to claim his new maul when it got stuck falling down through the huge tree.

“Here, let me get rid of some of the knots,” I offered, opening my hands to receive the raw wood. Still green, it would be difficult to hand pluck all the extra branches and bark. “I might not be a skilled wood shaper, but I can make it easier to hold.”

Slice and dice! Bark and twigs and leaves were shaved off with elegance. Forester was wonderful.

What was revealed underneath the hood was an ebony log with veins of metallic gray, weeping a faint brown color that smelled like molasses.

Hagash grunted in approval. If I didn’t know better, there was a hint of childlike excitement from a kid at Christmas in his eyes.

Resting on my laurels – rather, sitting on the ground to anchor myself – my front pair of walking legs held the trunk and turned it back and forth. My bladed forelimbs carved out imperfections, processing the wood using Forester. Etching a texture like a handle was probably pushing the limits of the Profession, but it came out alright. No MAP announcement I made anything, just a generic improvement message on Forester.

Yay for pushing boundaries!

“And voila. I present a replacement worthy for a warrior of your stature,” I announced, smiling with pride as Hagash slowly took it from me.

A few test swings, he looked over to a boulder about half the size of me lengthwise.

“SUNDER!”

My six eyes detected a pulse of red around Hagash. Martial skill activation they whispered to me through the second nature. It flowed from his body and concentrated in his main hand, swinging down mightily.

Well, I must have done something correctly.

The boulder exploded every which way in very small fragments. It put a stick of dynamite to shame with the small chunks of flint and pebbles that got flung around. I had to cough the resulting dust plume away, waving with one of my blades from where I sat.

“Hah, hahaha! Ari make gooder club!” my Troll comrade exclaimed, jumping up and down while  dancing with the new weapon. It was kind of comical with the other wimpy stick that resembled more of a staff in his hands sticking out of his backpack.

A staff…

Spear?

“Project,” I said, pointing at the rock.

+Target is a ??? stone. Status: extremely low durability due to excessively massive blunt trauma.+

If I didn’t know better, someone was watching my every move and custom tailoring these info panels with the least charitable interpretations of the situation. Newbie? Someone else? His boss with nothing else better to do than watch the only playtester?

However maybe this time it was justified for once.

“Would you mind giving me the other stick? I believe I could make use of it,” I asked, cocking my head as I ran a few ideas through.

Maybe wrapping the whole thing from end to end in regular silk. Not the deadliest of weapons but I figured I also needed something that autoattacked without exploding things into chopped liver with my spidey-widey-sharpy-bitties.

Masterfully refined Bladeweaver silk was as strong as mithril or something close to it. But, since I was only able to make shit tier stuff the quality would be closer to iron or steel. Still, conventional MMO logic put iron as a third or fourth tier metal thing, well above the weakest tier of copper or stone.

Ugh, I want a manual.

Hagash handed off my future staff of office. My rod of authority, reminding people of the chain of command by beating them over the head with it. Whittling out the flaws in the wood I saw with Forest, structural integrity was gonna easily be solved with butt rope special ordered with extra glue floated with my little bit of Arachne telekinesis and I wrapped it around the glorified stick.

+Warning! Item produced without corresponding Profession!+

Wha?

The silk sloughed off, becoming dry and crumbling.

“S’weird, Ari,” Hagash paused, blinking.

I growled. I wasn’t burning my last Profession slot to make my stick better.

“Apparently it doesn’t like my silk,” I brushed off, seething. “Not to worry, I can still use the Ironwood by itself.”

Sigh. Creating Whackus Bonkus Maximus would have to wait. Instead, the humble stick would suffice. I still had big stick energy.

Half-expecting to be told I couldn’t use the damn thing, my hands grasped it with surprising familiarity. Twirled it in my hands. Rustled leaves around me before…

Jabbing in the air to break the fall of a thin branch from above that almost fell on me. Bopped it up before batting the metal-like wood like a baseball, sending it flying to embed halfway into a similar boulder next to Hagash’s.

Then brought up my guard, perfectly balancing a leaf on either end.

+Acquired item: staff, Ironwood.+

Felt like using my Bladeweaver forelimbs. Huh. Autoattack unlocked, but I hoped that meant this could be bludgeoning damage to knock people out instead of outright killing them. Also, I could easily wield it in one hand and leave the other open for casting spells, unless I could focus through the new staff. Instruments and foci tutorial text came to mind.

“Splendid. Now, where are those friends of yours that we need to visit?” I announced, resting the staff across the back of my front pair of leg joints. Rolling up and down, I turned toward Hagash who was up to his own devices personalizing the maul. “Should be able to go and-“

A bell tolled.

Then quicker.

Frantic.

I looked off toward the disturbance, seeing a huge plume of white smoke. Followed by heavy black. The hamlet was over there.

A knot twisted in my stomach. Part of me knew this was literally beneath me. Lady Arienna, Arachne Queen aspirant, reawakened after countless years of slumber, had better things to do than investigate a paltry fiery racket  in a forest becoming infested with a race of short-lived creatures that had forsaken her Arachne sisters in times past.

Ari the human, the Earthling…

“What are the odds your former tribe might begin raiding the Humans?”

“Mhrrhm, Trolls get bored. Trolls not like Human push forest around. Hammy new and cut down lots for farm,” he responded. Looking down at the violet-and-amber badge on his chest, I didn’t want to outright betray that trust we were developing with such a selfish detour. “Maybe start raid Human. Food, shinies, trophy.”

Trophy.

“I suggest we investigate,” I offered. The World system said we were comparable in challenge rating, but right now I wanted to treat him as an equal. Value his input. Not boss him around and exploit whatever tricks were under my Raid Boss sleeve. “Perhaps they’re responsible for that racket. If we take care of them here, that’s a few less when we go to their base.”

“Hagash agree. Hagash know quick way,” my comrade answered, waving to follow as he picked up into a jog.

This was going to be my biggest challenge yet.

What would I as an Arachne do with a Human as a former Earthling?

A shiver ran down my spine. I was excited. I was afraid. I was dreading what answer I might come up with.

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