SpiderFarm

Tenebrae - Monday, October 24, 2016, 9:40 AM

---

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* H02: Balefire Silkworks *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Alba A black-haired, masked Veyshanti woman. 2m 1d

Munch Dreadlocked golem with metal scales. 0s 2m

Un'eth has arrived.

Ormarr has arrived.

Munch hunts the Woods, and the woods hunt back. Which doesn't bother the metal man too much, that usually just makes less effort on his part. Most things are either too stupid to be a threat, or too smart to get close in the first place. Today the golem wanders, crashing thru the underbrush as only a large barbarian can, idly nibbeling on something found along the way, adamantine fangs grinding the snack to paste.

"...tryin ta set me on fire? Who do they think they is, any--any..." The badger's voice dies off, like a field mouse caught on a grave. The undertaker's boot goes down, and that's it...not scamper, no squeak.

...And with a squeak is the mighty badger's voice silenced, a beast as large and if not larger than, a horse. He stares at this...this THING that has come out of the Felwood.

"Oh HELLS no," he rasps.

Further along the outskirts of the Felwood, the sounds of -- construction work? -- can be heard. Or at least, someone is shouting orders at a lot more someones, and the sounds of carpentry and shovelwork roam the edge of hearing. With a rustle of underbrush, Alba emerges, a few feet above the ground, her hair apparently pressed into hauling small animals warped and corrupted by the Felwood's curse.

Munch mmmmms absently. "Yeah, I get that a lot. What's up?" The metal man waves casually, peering around with the idly intrest of one who knows he's the top of the local food chain. As Alba drifts into view, he raises a hand in greeting.

"Ohhhh no, nononono," says the badger. He begins pacing along the perimeter of the dadgum whatever-the-hell-freaky this is, with its fence and the GIANT HAIRY LEGGED THINGS and TWO-HEADED CHATTER-SQUIRRELS in the middle of it. "Oooooh, no. Whatever ya did, Felwood, this's tha end of it. This--"

And then he sees Munch, "What tha hells kinda scarecrow is THAT?"

One of the dead, six-legged rabbits is waved limply as a return greeting, but the masked Veyshanti doesn't even get a chance to speak before Ormarr's mutterings snag her attention. Eeling through the air, she hangs just out of arm's reach, her critter-bearing hair rippling in a nonexistent breeze. "......Something vexes thee?"

Munch says, "BEST kinda of scarecrow. Crows are smart. Hunt down a couple, word gets out, they don't come back for -years-." He looks to the hovering Alba. "What are you doing?"

...yuh-huh," says the badger. "Uh-huh. Yeeaaah. I don't know what ah did to piss off ole Coyote but this ain't okay," he says. He backs up a step, then another.

...then abruptly falls on his ass, scratching madly at his side and back.

Raethon has arrived.

"Gathering supplies," the floating witch says, in answer to Munch's question. "I collect all of the most corrupted animals I can find, and determine if they are unhealthy for large spiders. It is a thing I will wish to know now, so that when the tunnels are dug and the nests set, less work need I to begin." The witch floats near a madly scratching Ormarr, and a confidently relaxed Munch, a short distance away from the sound of construction just inside the Felwood.

After a few moments, she turns to examine Ormarr, head tilting to one side. ".....Did the Fel warp the fleas too?"

Munch considers for a few moments. "...what about the Fel warping the spiders? Or is that what makes them giant in the first place? And suicidal?"

"Oooooh, no. No no no no, you ain't seein ME on fire. I'm a survivor, y'see. I've faced threats a-fire, murder, stabbins and I'm still standin! Oooooh no. No you don't, creepy spider-lady, and, and..." And then Munch brings up something even worse. The b adger works to get to his feet, inbetween scratchings.

It doesn't help when you're a badger and look like a camel, though. Right there in the middle of his back is a great, big wad of a knot. It's the type that snarls and twists, and has caught sticks, twigs, skin and hair. The skin beneath is red and inflamed.

Slowly walking his way into the 'farm', Raethon looks about and tilts his head. "So this is what Alba's been up to, hmm?" He says as his staff looks about too...

For a moment, Alba simply floats there in place, her mask peering at Ormarr, the vague sound of muttering floating out from beneath. Finally, the witch heaves a long-suffering sigh, and drifts to block Ormarr. "...There is a large enough tangle upon you, badger, that enough ticks to drain all of your blood you could host, and still we would not see. If it is dealt with, will you swear to speak of what vexes you?"

Munch pops the last bit of spiderleg into his maw, and peers at the badger as he chews. "Yeah, that looks bad. Could cut it off easy enough. Hurt a little, but should heal quick enough. Blade's clean, promise."

Seeing the construction as he walks in, Rae simply tilts his head as he looks around. he keeps silent, but there's a dark, gutteral 'oooooooo' coming from his staff. 'This has potential.'

The badger squints at her through beady, murderous eyes. For such eyes are the purview of badgers, and their legacy, no matter the times small children may coat them in flowers. And he says: "...ya know, it says somethin' about my life," he says and says those last three words VERY LOUDLY.

ARE YOU LISTENING COYOTE.

WHEN DID YOU GET DRUNK, COYOTE.

WHY ARE YOU PICKING ON ME, COYOTE.

..."Somethin about my life, that tha upstandin-lookin sil mage threatened ta set me on fire. That that tha talkative llyranesi threatened ta cut me open...but tha creep-...whatever tha hell you are, is..."

"Ah, hell. You ain't no axe murderer, are ya?" he asks Alba. Then gestures to the scarecrow. "She ain't, is..." and the scarecrow has an axe. "Ah, hell, Coyote..."

The noises of construction and yelling carry some distance and are atypical sounds from the Felwood. Not that yells and screams are unusual, but their pitch is less, in this case, and continue on for an extended time without sudden silencing. Un'eth emerges from the foliage to investigate and promptly finds a number of individuals, most, if not all, known to her.

"...No," Alba answers, after a short pause. "I do not murder with axes." A restless twitch of her fingers sets adamant razorblades scraping against each other, and the floating witch's hair seems to find this the ideal time to twist itself into something like a braid, all the dead animals dangling off the end like a fifty-pound meat ornament. "But Sarathrazz bids me to help, and trust him I do. Also potions have I, sufficient to heal the damage that may be done in the helping." More voices and sounds of approach have the witch looking about, braid lashing to one side.

Munch blinks with a soft click. "...huh. I guess I -am- an axe murderer." The golem seems disturbingly pleased at this. "But only of things that deserve it." He nods to Alba. "And she's not." He glances to Un'eth. "She isn't either." A glance to Raethon. "Maybe, but sorta doubt it."

"Aaaaww no. Awww no...nonono," says the badger, as he backs UP. One foot behind the other, he goes. Feet, the size of great dinner-plates, until his ass hits a tree.

SMACK.

"Ohshit," he says. "Yeah, uh..." And he begins making his way AROUND that tree, eyeing the lot of them like...

...like...

"...If this does not please you, then I shall be at the Lower Markets tomorrow. Supplies enough I have there, an alchemical solution I may find," Alba says, looking rather nonplussed. "It is simply that you have the look of extreme discomfort, and few ideas I have that are expedient *and* bloodless. It is simply a choice." and indeed, the Witch does seem to be at least making the attempt to appear nonthreatening. ...With no visible face, blades on her fingers, and meat-dreadlocks...

"...you knooooow, I think I'm just. ...you know. Goin' to get a driiiiink..." says the badger, and scoot-scoot-scoot walks baaaackwards towards the trees.

FELWOOD IS SAFEST WOOD.

Ormarr has left.

Munch ehs. "Long as the torches and pitchforks don't come out, it's all good. Anyway, you're farming spiders now?"

Un'eth thumps her tail and opens her maw to offer greetings... but her voice is held. Instead, her head tilts as she watches the badger in reverse, maw slowly closing. A few slow blinks follow before her eyes shift between the two remaining. "Is the badger ill?"

Raethon has left.

"So it would seem," Alba answers, lifting a shoulder and turning to peer at Munch. "So, and so. There is a need, for the ranch near the Redridge mountains still has not finished rebuilding. Also Sarathrazz and I spoke upon the matter for awhile, and we believe that with spiders there may be a way to drain the Felwood of its warping energies, if only in very small ways. It is why I have been gathering corrupted animals, to test this theory when the spiders are brought to their nests."

Munch shrugs, and waves vaugely, turning focus to Alba. "Not sure I follow that, but okay. Your spiders gonna be caged, or free range? I tend to run into a lot of them around these parts. Like, a LOT."

"They will build their nests where they choose," Uneth points out, "not where others wish." Alba's words of a positive influence on the Felwood pique her interest, however. "They will work to cleanse the Felwood? How?"

"So and so, and if good enough nests I build for them, they shall choose to nest there." That said, Alba eels in a slow, lazy figure-eight, working out the proper words. "A spider's silk is made, from the meats which they eat. If they were to be given meats made from Fel-warped creatures, it is my thinking that they would place the corrupted energies within their silk. Destroy this Fel-silk, and there is less corruption within the Felwood." The brace of warped animals at the end of her hair is given a clarifying wiggle. "So, and so; I would dig for them nests which would bring them joy to inhabit, feed them such that they need never hunt, and burn away the corruption that infests the wood. Thus, all are satisfied."

Munch considers, and shrugs. "Maybe. Hunting is fun. If it goes well. But seems to go pretty poorly for them when I'm involved. For some reason spiders seem to think I look delicious, or something. You happen to have any insight as to why?"