The early morning light cast a glistening sheen over the dew-laden cobwebs that adorned the path through the town. It was interesting as he hadn’t noticed the day before.
Lassim meandered through the town as it was more active and busy than the near empty sight he was met with yesterday. The town’s inhabitants were truly diverse.
The streets were now alive with early morning activity; spider creatures of various sizes and forms and colors went about their morning routines alongside a scattering of human adventurers and traders, all adapted to the unique cultural mesh of this swamp town.
Among the eclectic mix, a particularly striking figure caught Lassim’s attention—a half-man, half-tarantula creature that towered above most townsfolk.
This beast, reminiscent of a centaur, the legendary beast tribe found on the Western continent where they dominated the plains regions as half-man and half-horse creatures.
Yet, this being had instead the lower body of a giant tarantula, maneuvered gracefully through the crowd. Its eight chitinous legs moved with an elegant, almost rehearsed precision, clicking softly against the damp ground.
The creature’s torso was that of a ruggedly built man, his upper body clad in a moss-draped leather cuirass that blended into the swampy aesthetics of the town. His eyes, a vibrant compound array typical of arachnids, scanned his surroundings with an unnerving calmness that spoke of a seasoned warrior, perhaps a hunter or some other profession in these lands.
The ambient sounds of the town—a blend of distant chatter, clicking and hissing, the soft squelch of moist ground underfoot, and the rhythmic clicking of arachnid legs—created a symphony that was strangely harmonious with the morning air, heavy with the scent of wet earth and rich, reedy foliage.
Upon reaching the Marshlight Apothecary, Lassim pushed open the door, its old hinges groaning softly under the gentle force. The transition from the swamp’s outdoor ambience to the interior of the apothecary was abrupt.
Inside, he found himself in an environment that, while nestled in such an exotic locale, mirrored the familiar setup of the countless other apothecaries he had visited. The walls were lined with neatly arranged shelves stocked with jars of dried herbs and brightly colored potions.
The air was rich with the mingled scents of medicinal plants, each breath bringing a refreshing crispness that contrasted the outdoor swamp’s musty dampness.
This striking familiarity amidst the apothecary’s conventional arrangement made it clear why Cirra might choose such a place as a base for her research, whatever it was, as this place was clearly a slice of the known and orderly to explore the unknown. A perfect place for her base of operations.
"Cirra?" Lassim called out, his voice mingling with the tinkling of the bell above the door as he entered.
"Over here!" came the response from the back of the shop. Following her voice, Lassim navigated through narrow aisles filled with botanical oddities until he found Cirra in a small, cluttered backroom.
She was hunched over a large table, meticulously organizing clippings of various plant leaves and scribbling notes onto a pad. The room was lined with shelves brimming with books and more plant specimens, reflecting the depth of her research.
As Lassim approached, Cirra looked up, her face lighting up with a mix of relief and enthusiasm. "Ah, Lassim, you’re here. Good timing," she said, gesturing to the mess of papers and plants around her. "I was just organizing my findings from yesterday’s fieldwork that I didn’t get to finish. These swamps hold several varieties of hallucinogenic plants, more than you can imagine!"
Lassim glanced around the room, taking in the organized chaos, he replied, "Hallucinogenic plants? What exactly are you working on?"
Cirra paused, her expression turning serious. "As I shared yesterday, I’m currently in the midst of my research. My main focus is that I’m studying the properties of various plants and their potential to enable the creation or enabling of the consumer to develop psychic abilities for a new type of communication.
I believe they hold the key to unlocking a form of communication that transcends language—enabling the spirit sense of all cultivators and spirit warriors to connect directly with the consciousness of not only other warriors, but also different species. It’s a… controversial… theory back at my sect, unfortunately.
They all ostracize and criticize me and think it’s too fantastical, but I’ve observed phenomena that suggest something of this nature is possible."
Lassim listened intently, intrigued by the notion of communicating through means beyond conventional language, especially after his recent challenges with the local dialect. Yet, it reminded him specifically of a certain High Priestess as he pondered out loud, "To communicate directly, without words you say…"
"Yes, exactly!" Cirra’s eyes sparkled with passion. "Imagine being able to understand any creature, to really connect with them on a fundamental level. No misunderstandings, no language barriers. Just pure, unfiltered understanding. There has to be a way to enable this function with our spirit sense. I just know it!
So, I’m testing out various plants and esoteric resources that might make it possible."
As Lassim listened to her, he couldn’t help but admire her passion for her vision. Here, in this small room, surrounded by the musty scent of ancient books and fresh plant clippings, Cirra was chasing a small dream that could indeed change the world if successful.
It reminded him and made him think about his own goal in helping protect everyone from the Dragal invasions. He wondered if there had been any more during his time away and trapped.
"I don’t think I can provide much help, but…" Lassim said, his words careful, "I think I might be able to introduce you to someone that could increase the speed of your research. Yet, before I just give you another lead to go on, do you think you can help me with the language and the culture of the Spider Queen’s territory? I apparently was caught peeping on a…. "lady"...
fresh after her molt and got in a little trouble with the innkeeper on my way out this morning."
Cirra lightly laughed, covering her petite mouth as she enjoyed the image of what she imagined had happened. "Sounds like you’re in more need of my help than I realized," she replied, pulling up an extra chair and cleaning up some of the plant cutting arrangements.
She gestured for him to sit down, "Let’s start with the basics of what I know about the culture, and go ahead and pull out what language books you’re using to study, too."
Like a professor teaching a lesson, her voice low and steady, she began, "This place, the Spider Queen’s Threads, as you know, has a remarkable depth to its history that few outsiders truly understand if they haven’t learned the language."
Lassim listened attentively, like a good student his curiosity piqued.
"The Threads," Cirra continued, "were not always under such tight control. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, this area was a wild no-man’s land. A place of danger and desolation, roamed by lesser spider beasts and various swamp creatures in this specific part of what is now her kingdom. But that changed with Arachnae, the Spider Queen came to be.She turned this territory into her own.
It spans a massive area with a few diverse biomes—from swamps like this village to dense forests, expansive jungles, and an intricate underground cave system near the heart of her nest."
She paused, glancing towards a thick, leather-bound book on a shelf behind her, its cover embossed with a spider web design.
"Arachnae herself was once just a minor Spirit Spider, one among many, but she was chosen by the ancient Goddess of Nature for some reason or another—a rare blessing for any member of the beast species to receive, that helped transformed her and her strength into what she is now: a sovereign with unmatched power over her domain.
She wove the Threads out of necessity of her species and protection, creating a labyrinthine network that serves as both a barrier and a binding force for her people."
Lassim absorbed every word, his eyes occasionally drifting to the window where the gossamer threads of morning dew reflected off some of the webbing on the glass.
She continued her explanation, "Arachnae’s leadership was consolidated through a series of alliances and sometimes confrontations with other Nexarian kingdoms and various beast tribes as she expanded her Threads to their current layout.
Her primary agenda has always been the preservation of her species’, their sovereignty and ensuring their prosperity amidst the problems facing every typical kingdom. She’s had a few Dragal legion invasions as well, which has led to the more outgoing and not-reclusive stance towards outsiders for assistance."
"The Threads are more than just her territory; they represent a bastion where spider creatures of all kinds have flourished under her governance. This unity has been instrumental in fostering a strong communal identity that resonates through every layer of society here," she added, her tone reflecting her admiration for the Queen’s genius.
"The biggest part of that unity has certainly been the language," Cirra went on, "she developed the Spider Language for all of her children to be unified across their various arachnid species and turn into a united force. It evolved as the primary mode of communication here. It’s a complex language that includes clicks, hisses, and even body movements sometimes.
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Over time, all who live here or even want to trade here, especially the non-arachnids, are expected to adopt it as their own, for ease of living and trading within the Threads."
She shifted slightly, reaching for a small jar filled with a dark, viscous liquid, and placed it on the table between them. "And then there are the Widows," she added solemnly. "The fiercest warriors in Arachnae’s brood. Hatched directly from her clutches and trained to be deadly enforcers, they are half-woman, half-spider creatures that fully embody the queen’s venomous might and strategic cunning."
Lassim’s gaze fell on the jar, noting how the liquid seemed to shift with a life of its own. "The Widows? You mentioned the guardian said about calling them yesterday I think." he stated.
"Yes," Cirra nodded. "In times of threat or significant danger, the Spider Queen’s physical threads that extend throughout her kingdom can be literally ’shaken’—a signal known to all her guardians and watchers. This act summons the Widows, who will rapidly arrive from the deepest parts of the queen’s nest like magic. Their near instantaneous arrival is... both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
They uphold the queen’s will and ensure her decrees are enforced without question. If you’re attacked, you’ll most likely die a near instantaneous death after being injected with their venom—the same venom that resides in this special jar. You’ll only survive if you are a Spirit Transcendent, but even then… Your hope for survival isn’t great."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Cirra’s words hanging in the air.
"Understanding this place, its culture, and its citizens are crucial, Lassim," Cirra said, her tone earnest. "Especially for someone like you, traveling through. Each town and section of her territory, no matter how populus or barren of people, has a thread woven into its landscape that needs to be respected. Her majesty’s power within her Threads is almighty. You don’t want to test it."
Lassim nodded, his mind racing with images of giant spiders, ethereal webs, and fierce half-spider, half-warrior women with dripping venom.
"Thank you, Cirra," he murmured, "for sharing all this. It’s a lot to take in, but I’m starting to see how complex and interconnected everything is here."
Cirra smiled, a hint of relief in her expression. "That’s good to hear. And now, about your language lessons—shall we begin?"
Lassim agreed, eager to arm himself with the knowledge that might prevent further issues.