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The Valley Of The Tempest And The Void

by Roy Whipple 2 months ago in Fantasy
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The Arachnid Chronicles

The Valley Of The Tempest And The Void
Photo by Mel on Unsplash

There weren't always dragons in the Valley, but there have always been spiders, in the cool dark places where one would seek out shelter from the heat of afternoons spent on frivolous and anxiety ridden waves of silly behaviours. Hunting for Sport instead of need, glaring at people with haughty or insolent expressions, stealing into peoples dwellings as a sneak thief to snatch away jelously guarded treasures, brawling with life and a community for no real gain that means anything. Any feelings of dissatisfaction, disapproval, or disappointment are shrugged off with a "Hey, but you know, it's ME" expression. Said expression is humorous for a minute , and then makes someone feel like a fool for letting that one get passed you. Those dark recesses,though, are home to beings that do not tarry with frivolous nor silly behaviours............

She descends the lines carefully, one of her cis]terns of hydration had begun jinggling. She is a Sphreindarian, a race of spider gods. if you had never seen her cavern, you would be stuck there in a state of awe, which would be quite dangerous because one of her wandering lines might catch you into a life of servitutes. All over the cavern are waving luminous and twinkling lights, her web lines are soothing rainbows meticulously organized. There are bridges to wander around, lines holding bottles of various liquids, also adorning them are old armories from knights that tried to go into the cavern to do away with the "Big Bad Spider God" as well as bribes from monarchs and various nobilities that found holding onto treasures of stolen gold and silver, rubies and diamonds, and other treasures of the heathen lands, stolen from the big endearing 'Land' herself, were starting to lose their value in the face of mortality, and as weakness and illness start to take one away from life and family they seek out one of the caverns of the Spheriandai to petition for one of their elixirs or potions of health and strength. So they seek out The Masters of the Web and guardians of lifes secrets. None leave the caverns that attempt violence, and servitutde is required of those that attempt theivery. This particular Sphereiandai would be known as Shamarana and she is as magnificent as the her lines and web systems, with a dark purple rainbow colored exterior, and exquisitly lithe, muscular abdoman, that somehow balances both muscles and the glandular system of an arachnid.

As she descends down the line to see why one of her cisterns had begun jingling more than it should be, she feels the vibrations running across her senses that allow her to see the image of a 3rusky well porportioned being trying to cut one of her lines and steal from one of her wells. The usual procedure is to leave a healthy bribe of some kind and THEN she lowers one of her lines with a tank of precious fluids in it, and then whomever brought the bribe also brought crimps to place of both the cut line and the gathered bottle to maintain freshness and affirm the bargain completed. The blades are made out of some dark and heavy material with a diamond edge to it, the only kind strong enough to cut the line. Two crimps and and a reasonably porpotioned bribe, not much of a burden for some the best most refreshing liquids you can find anywhere, some people always seemed to try and steal it though. As she lowers herself using a system of hooks and muscular flexation that makes one wonder at a bodies athletic capability, you can hear a song that was both cheerful and wondering, if a bit suspicious, as to what the noise was and whom had come calling. She sends out waves of sound and thought surrounding the other beings mind gently to consider the pain levels and hostility of too much sound, yet still quite firmly inquires, "Why are you trying to steal that??" towards this huffing and puffing consternated being trying to loosen the chords of a Tempest Weave (strong enough to survive a tempest on the ocean, tested and proven.) The thief, startled by the multi toned inquiry that seemed to be all over the cavern and yet somehow aimed specifically for her , drops her diamond edged blade and turns upright, just in time to witness the matriarch of this particular cavern descend the line, and present the form of ancient lineages, both worship worthy, from her belt of overbearing wealth, elixirs and potions, carfully arranged by her daughters, when they weren't huffing about the place with attitudes and endering threats and references to her age anyway, that kings and queens alike would cry and beg and battle over, to her, and dominion worthy attributes with a visuage of a species formed as if with the materials of creation itself, looking at her likea thief trying for the easy way out. The Thief tries for pity, understanding the legends of the Spheriandai , which attribute them to a lenient composure toward love, romance , and affection for petitioners seeking health instead of stolen wealths, or understandable tyrannies to make a better world, she tries to communicate, "I am seeking betrothal to the Lord Of Faire, whom requires a single sip of this loving elixir to bring him refreshment before his Trial of Courtship." The Matron laughs faintly echoing through the carvern, wondering if any thief ever answers honestly, and issues forth a series of clicks and reverberating sound which communicates the thoughts, "If said tempter to your virtue was of a true mind he would have allowed you the proper tithe to attain the refreshents he seeks as well as the understanding of ceremony involved in these proceedings, instead of sending out an unaware and foolish girl to a trial of thievery, instead of love. Otherwise ventured forth himself instead of sending a maid on a knights errand."

The Thief, caught unaware by the sound reasoning of a being she had heard were naive and foolish about the concepts of Trials and Courship, tries one more attempt at deciet, " He is ill and upon his deathbed, and I must complete his challenge , and bring him the elixir of life, surely you will not stand in my way??" The Matron, centuries old and tired of these particular conversations , does not answer for several minutes, then when she had redied her lines of capturing, she issues forth one last communication, "Surely if your knight valued his life he would have instructed thine on the difference between a simple sustainence and the elixir required to bring one back from deaths aching Void" as the last echo reverberates and the theif looks for another use of a lie the Matron enacts her lines of capturing and as she halters up the would be thief, she wanders down one of her bridges, sounding conversational with multitoned sounds, "Never to worry, there is always need for a maiden to clean and organize my caverns, and if your Court is sincere a year and a day shall not quaver his ardenancy for your love. Never to fear I always keep my servants well fed and refreshed." Struggling, but defeated, the thief can only wonder why she wondered into this particular cavern when, she was headed to a tavern and would have already been trying to fleece the nearest ignornt Lord of his belt pouch.

As to matters of Court, one can only wonder, what trial one must achieve in order to attain the matriarchs blessing and attain Immortality.....

As the Matron wraps up her newest endentured servant, a shadow in the background moves slightly ,rustling leathery wings folded about the body and draped as if to be cloak wrapped around a strong and muscular figure, excepting where fingermails would be are a strong talon like hands with sharp diamond edges to attain sustinance from the lines of its natural adversary. It's movemets are just subtle enough to avoid alerting the residing monarch to its prescence, a slight shrug of pride at can be felt, this one is somehow anceint and yet still young for its species that live on into the millions of years. Counted against the Matron who is not equttiable with an actual count of age he feels young and exuberant, if almost a thousand years. It felt as though it had faired well, not having an actual bribe to offer the Webmaster, this being known as a semrogeith had steered a stubborn, proud pickpocket, a despised being among all races, into her cavern issuing light chirps and sounding meaning of thirst before the nearest town would be available, he would never have used such techniques on an innocent, but thieves often require to know the loss of something (freedom in this case) before they'll learn any better of virtue.and knowing one of the best bribes for the Spherendai is a troubling starter... Feeling both accomplished and in need he uses swift motions of the of a strong arm to slice and crimp the lines of the web as is demanded , to appropriate one of the cisterns of often sought after fluids, then off into the night on his way to his own safeholding, severl miles away from the monarchs cavern speriandai and semrogeith can coexist, only from safer distances.

Fantasy

About the author

Roy Whipple

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