Chapter 66
Grindlefoot stands halfway between the entrance and the cavern’s far wall, a one hundred foot distance. It’s too dark to tell how far the subterranean chamber extends to the north, beyond the maze of thick spider silk. The southern wall is only twenty feet from the entrance. It appears to be about eighty feet to the ceiling, covered in stalactites of varying shapes and sizes.
Standing at the entrance, the companions watch Grindlefoot respond to the giant spider’s declaration. Rather, his lack of response. The halfling’s body remains motionless and he appears lost in thought, staring towards the giant spider and the spider dragon with a vacant look in his eyes.
The druid halfling is overtaken with memories of his life before adventuring. A life before discovering his talent for druidic magic. A simple life. One with simple choices, simple problems, and simple solutions.
Grindlefoot remembers the farming community where he was born, raised, and grew to adulthood. Northeast of Wayside, closer to the Jagged Sky mountains than the Ha-derech. Fields of grass and crops were surrounded by dense copses of tall, leaf-filled trees. The soil was fertile and the different seasons arrived reliably, seeming to predict the future with an accuracy the farmers relied on.
Even as a young halfling, he loved being outside, communing with nature, feeling the soil in his hands, and encouraging the vegetables to grow in the tiny garden his Ma and Da created for him. It was obvious to them that he had a knack for farming, but no one expected the future that came to be. Years later, his own farm would consistently outperform his neighbors. The ears of corn were a little bigger and sweeter, the pods of peas were slightly more sugary, the carrots were longer and a deeper orange, the onions and potatoes made the best soup in the region, and even his lone apple tree yielded more apples than neighbors with a dozen or more trees.
One day, he was trying to catch a stray dog who’d been digging up his radishes—no idea why, since dogs aren’t particularly fond of root vegetables—and the rascally canine outran and outmaneuvered the halfling at every juncture. Without a conscious thought, Grindlefoot Wild Shaped into a wolf and had the poor dog in his grasp within seconds before realizing what had happened. Fortunately, he was alone on his farm with no one the wiser to his magical nature. A few centuries had gone by since The Uprising, yet magic was still highly discouraged and frowned upon in Eritz.
The next few years were spent discovering his druidic ways. It was an exciting time of learning and discovery, yet filled with angst and concern. The more of his powers that he learned to control, the more frequently he used them, and the more likely his magic use would be exposed to his neighbors. He found that by concentrating in certain ways, he could shift into a handful of animal forms, such as the wolf, an ape, a warhorse, and even a shark—the fisherfolk still tell tales of seeing it swimming in the river.
With no one to learn from, Grindlefoot had to teach himself through trial and error, mostly from his imagination and intuition. One day, there was a traveling peddler passing by his farm who struck up a conversation with the halfling, hoping for a sale. Noting the lushness of Grindlefoot’s vegetables, they mentioned an old book about herbology that was collecting dust in the back of their wagon. It turned out to be more than just a book about herbs; it had several chapters about druids. The reverence they have for nature, how they use plants to cast spells, the deities they worship, and the different circles, each granting a specific set of characteristics that expand a druid’s abilities.
Over the years, he learned to wild shape more proficiently and could quickly transform into several different animals. For some reason, he began to feel an affinity towards the giant wolf spider and would often gravitate towards that form when practicing. The spider’s form was agile, strong, and gave the small halfling a confidence he didn’t have in his natural form. Because he was inexperienced and lacked someone to instruct him in the druidic ways, he didn’t realize that an affinity can become akin to an addiction. An unhealthy, psychic bond can develop between the druid and the animal form with unanticipated results.
On a particularly bright night, eerily lit by a harvest moon emanating a deep orange glow over the land, the halfling found an empty meadow of wildergrass with several alder and birch trees peppered around it. A perfect place to practice slinging his butt yarn, as he affectionally referred to the spider silk. During the early morning hours, underneath the harvest moon, Grindlefoot the spider created a maze of webbing from one tree to another, alder to birch and birch to alder, back and forth. He spun such a humongous web that he tired himself out and fell fast asleep underneath one of the web-covered birch trees shortly before the pre-dawn light began to illuminate the meadow.
A neighbor on their way to town that morning saw the halfling asleep amidst the mass of spider silk and knew that the rumors were true. Their very own Grindlefoot, whom everyone was so proud of for his farming skills, was a magic user. This put everyone to a different mind. Once applauded for his bountiful vegetables and produce, the townfolk and farmers began accusing him of not being a real farmer and, even worse, a menace to their community. It was time for the halfling to leave his farm and community, to venture out into the world and continue his path as a druid.
Returning to the present, Grindlefoot looks at the spider dragon and the giant spider, wondering which one is the voice in his mind. Perhaps both.
Only a few moments pass while the companions huddle at the entrance, watching Grindlefoot stand still in thought. The giant spider begins to move slowly towards the halfling and Dolor decides it’s time to move. He rushes into the chamber, towards the southeast, leaving twenty to thirty feet between him and Grindlefoot. Extending his arms, a ball of fire erupts from his hands towards a point halfway between the two beasts. The fiery explosion engulfs them both and their shrieks of pain fill the cavern. The thick fibers dissipate where the fireball struck, thinning out the webbing. A blinding light fills the pitch black chamber, temporarily blinding Dolor and his companions. When their eyes adjust, the giant spider is perched behind Grindlefoot and appears to bite him. The poisoned attack incapacitates the halfling and he falls limply to the floor.
Wondering how the spider moved so quickly, Mond casts Slow at the beast, but it shakes off the spell with no visible effect. The half-elf moves away from the entrance, towards the north and remaining close to the wall.
Gertrude, their new one-eyed, fifteen-foot-tall companion, immediately joins the fray. Swinging her greatclub wildly about her, she rushes the large spider now standing over Grindlefoot’s inert body. The first attempt goes wide, but the second one connects with a solid thwack against one of its eight legs. The arachnid recoils in obvious pain.
Turning to face Dolor, the giant spider spits a gooey substance at the tiefling. It lands on his bracer and begins to eat away at the leather, creating a sizzling sound. Without raising his arm, Dolor quickly points at the spider and it’s surrounded by hellish flames. Barely skipping a beat, the creature turns to Gertrude and spews another stream of acid at the cyclops. She yells in fury and pain from the attack.
Mond yells to the group, “I don’t think this is a normal spider!”
Grindlefoot shakes off the effects of the poison and begins to sit up, unable to do anything more to help the others.
In a rush, the spider dragon moves it’s monstrous body towards the entrance where Bilwin and Gven are standing. With its dragon-like head extended to its full height, the creature stands fifty feet tall. Glaring down on its two foes, the mouth opens and vomits thousands of tiny spiders at them. Covered in tiny, angry arachnids, the dwarf and half-orc suffer inumerable bites and the pain of toxic venom injected into their bodies.
Seeing her friends attacked, Gven embraces her barbarian rage and leaps at the spider dragon with Tempest Edge drawn. The greatsword seems like a tiny knife attacking the humongous beast, yet the sword slices deep into first one then another of its legs. It roars in pain and takes a step to the side, moving away from the half-orc’s vicious attack.
Still covered in hundreds of small spiders, Bilwin thinks for a moment about how to follow Gven’s strike. His mind goes to his dwarven comrades from a time past and their unfinished quest for a piece of the Rod of Seven Parts—that he only recently remembered. The cleric’s jaw goes rigid with determination and a half-dozen dwarves slowly appear around him. Their ethereal bodies turn towards their old friend and he says to them, “The quest has not ended, my friends.” They nod solemnly and silently attack the mass of spiders, quickly clearing them from the dwarf’s body.
Gripping his battle axe, Bilwin follows Gven into battle. He swings at the spider dragon, taking a small chunk out of a leg. His spirit guardians follow, attacking both of the beasts. Their fierce attacks are executed without a single sound, except for the cries of agony from their adversaries.
With the others engaged in close combat, Dolor draws Gleaming Blade and joins them. With a grunt of effort, he slices through most of a leg and the spider immediately vanishes. Wondering where it went—and silently agreeing with Dolor that this is no regular spider—the tiefling senses a presence behind him. Turning in time to see the creature emit a puff of powdery substance, he feels the poison move through his body with unexpected quickness. Within seconds, the rogue no longer has control of his body and slumps to the floor, incapacitated yet fully aware of the battle surrounding him.
From his vantage point along the western wall, Mond raises a hand and a bolt of lightning streams forth, hitting the spider dragon in the space where its neck joins its body. Its piercing screech fills the cavern and beyond.
Gertrude appears to be in her element. With a beaming smile indicating her delight, the large cyclops rears back and swings her greatclub with all her might, smashing against the giant spider’s carapace. At least two of her attempts are successful and the hurting spider remains in its place, not teleporting.
Having gotten its attention, the huge spider turns towards Gertrude and spews a stream of acid, followed quickly by another. Both of them land on the cyclops’s unclothed arms, causing the skin to bubble and burn away. She lets out a deafening roar, of both pain and anger.
No longer paralyzed, Grindlefoot sits on the floor recovering his strength. The whispered words continue to pull at him. “Why do you betray us, your brethren? Join us and our family. Defend yourself against these intruders.” He considers the request briefly, for only a mere moment before realizing the trickery of their words. Looking up at the spider dragon in amazement after it spewed the mass of spiders at Gven and Bilwin, he wonders if he could do that. More for physical effect than need, the druid blows a big puff of air at the spider dragon and a swarm of locusts appears around it. They attack the humongous creature with a ferociousness and determination only locusts seem to display. Rising to his feet, the halfling moves quietly towards the eastern wall, away from the melee.
The spider dragon is badly hurt, but still extremely large and even angrier than before now that it’s fighting for its life—a position it’s never been in before. Taking its fury out on Bilwin, the beast lashes out with two of its legs, the sharp claws slashing across the dwarf’s chainmail. It completes the attack with a bite to the dwarf’s shoulder, piercing the armor.
Seeing the spider dragon close to its end, Gven grips Tempest Edge tightly with both hands and moves quickly towards the creature. She brings the greatsword up to her shoulder and begins to swing it in a wide arc behind and over her head to gain momentum. As the magical weapon reaches the zenith of her swing’s arc, the tall half-orc throws her body forward at the spider dragon, increasing the speed of her attack. Tempest Edge slides into the beast’s body with ease, piercing its scaled hide all the way to the hilt. In that moment, Gven notices Bilwin’s spirit guardians around her, hands on her arms and body, as if guiding her to the weakest point in the spider dragon’s armor. She whispers her appreciation to them as she yanks her beloved sword from its vanquished foe.
In its death throws, the gargantuan body of the spider dragon tilts to one side and falls to the stony floor, its long neck whipping in a kinematic wave that causes the head to forcefully slap against the rock.
With one enemy defeated, the giant spider transforms into an eldritch with tentacles for legs. It holds this form for a few moments before turning into a gaseous form and moving slowly backwards, away from the companions.
Surprised by the spider’s sudden transformation and escape attempt, Bilwin hurls a Guiding Bolt at the vaporous entity. The attack passes through it without any affect.
Lying still on the floor, Dolor is somehow able to shake off the paralysis and gently sits up, looking around. The dead carcass of the spider dragon lies fifteen feet away. Turning to his side, the thing that used to be a giant spider is now an impalpable floating mass of particles. He sees Mond in the shadows of the western wall, pondering what to do with the situation.
Gertrude, dedicated to her chosen path, as always, rushes their gaseous enemy and swings forcefully with her greatclub, but it passes through without any resistance.
Bilwin’s ethereal dwarven companions take turns moving in to attack the vaporized creature, but it’s uncertain if their attacks are doing any harm.
As the gaseous creature continues its slow escape, a silver beam of light shines down from above and encircles it. The thing stops in place and begins to transform again. The cloud of vapor coalesces into a humanoid for a brief moment then settles into a tall pillar of yellow, glistening slime. Several tendrils lengthen from the core body, measuring anywhere from five to ten feet each with droplets of ooze falling from them to the floor. The companions smell burning flesh and a heavy sense of acid in the air.
Grindlefoot can be heard whispering, “So that’s what makes Moonbeam so useful! It forces shapeshifters back into their natural form. I’ll have to remember that.”
Those in the group who speak Elvish understand the creature’s threat, “How dare you.”
Gven pauses for a moment and looks at Tempest Edge, grasped firmly in both of her hands, ready for the attack. Turning her gaze to the acidic ooze that makes up the creature, she decides it isn’t worth losing her greatsword. She’s unsure if the weapon’s magic would protect it from whatever that creature is made of. Reaching over her shoulder, she pulls a javelin from its holding place on her back and slings it at the creature, where it sticks out of the thing’s torso. Seeing the javelin unharmed by the ooze but still unwilling to use Tempest Edge, she grabs the remaining javelin from her back. Aiming for dead center of the creature’s body mass, her powerful throw causes the javelin to plunge deep enough to protrude through its backside. The ooze begins to slowly dissipate, spreading across the floor as the creature leaves its physical form to return to its plane.
The half-orc appears as surprised as her companions. Shrugging her shoulders, “I didn’t think that would work.”
While the group catches their breath, Mond wanders over to the middle of the cavern, where the spider dragon was first seen. Peering between the thick strands of spider silk, the half-elf finds the area thinned out by Dolor’s fireball spell and notices an odd shape wrapped in webbing and hanging twenty feet above the ground. He gestures to Bilwin, who joins his investigation. The cleric concentrates for a moment. The strands holding the artifact turn dark yellow and burn away, letting the object drop to the floor with a thud. A floating hand appears, grasps the silk-wrapped thing, and brings it through the webbed maze to the dwarf’s hand.
The others gather around Mond as he removes the webbing to reveal a metal case. Releasing the latch, he lifts the cover to find a small crystal inside. Moving his hand with care, the half-elf gently grasps the crystal and lifts it into the air for the others to see.
At that moment, Mond has a vision of a ship. Interestingly, it’s out of water and not where you’d expect to find it. He blinks his eyes slowly and returns to the present.
They’ve discovered the first piece of the Rod of Seven Parts.
Dolor retrieves Alustriel’s sending stone from his pack. “We’ve found the first piece. Ready to move on.”
Within a few minutes, an oval-shaped portal appears in the cavern, perhaps fifteen feet away from them, towards the southern wall. They hear Alustriel’s voice coming from within the portal, “Come now, let’s not tarry in this unpleasant place.”
The last to enter the portal, Gven turns back to Gertrude with an inquisitive look, wondering if she’d like to join their quest. A group of fifteen drow and cultists choose that moment to enter the large cavern from the northwest area, finally responding to the sounds of their battle. They’re armed with swords, daggers, and all sorts of melee weapons.
The cyclops hears the group and turns to look at them briefly, then back to Gven. “Go find friend. After smash.” She smacks the greatclub into the palm of her hand a few times for emphasis. Gertrude holds Gven’s gaze for several moments, communicating an unspoken acknowledgement of her gratitude and friendship. A grin grows into a smile as the fifteen-foot tall cyclops turns and rushes toward the cultists, her greatclub held high, ready for battle. The last thing Gven sees before the portal shimmers closed is the cyclops swinging her weapon wildly in every direction and the cultists falling around her.
At some point after the battle but before they return to Alustriel’s Sanctum, Grindlefoot realizes that his ability to wild shape into a spider has changed. It no longer requires the effort of casting. Somehow he knows that merely thinking it will make it so.