The table, the glass case, and Snorri smashed into the wall, slumping to the ground in a pile of rubble, glass, and gnome. The students screamed, the teachers panicked, and alarm sirens began to wail through the academy in a cacophony of sound. The floor of the classroom had given way to a large dark tunnel from which came a low thrumming sound of a war drum. The teachers tried to regain control of the screaming students, but as the sound grew louder, they slowly realized it was too late. Professor Henders was the first to run, screaming, “Every gnome for themselves,” as he ran from the classroom.

As the door closed behind him, the first pair of beady yellow eyes came into view deep inside the tunnel. Soon, more sets of eyes became visible, followed by dark green bodies. The Goblins of Garblack's War Host charged forth from the tunnel, cruel-looking blades drawn and teeth bared. To a human, the goblins individually were no threat, but the goblins' meager stature was still, on average, a head taller than the gnomes. The children screamed as the goblins emerged from the tunnel. The goblins let out a series of grunts and splutters as if talking to one another, some lowering their weapons.

Mr. Rubus stepped in front of a huddled group of students. “Please... don't harm the children,” he begged the goblins, fear in his voice. The goblins paused for a moment before the largest among them grunted. The goblins let out a vast array of evil yapping laughs before the goblins of the war horde charged into the class of gnomish students. The last thing Mr. Rubus heard was the screaming of the students as he was hoisted into the air by a charging goblin, and a dull crack as his head was twisted brutally from his body.

**************

Snorri opened his eyes. He appeared to be in a large cavern, but not one he had ever seen beneath Grey Hold. The floor was made of a dark obsidian-like stone. As Snorri turned his gaze to the vast ceiling, he noticed the cavern’s ceiling, although made of the same dark stone as the floor, was also crisscrossed with thousands of thick dark-metal-looking chains. The chains swayed evilly in their seemingly perfectly formed web patterns in between stalactites of yet more of the dark-colored stone. Snorri had the vague sense he was being watched. He spun his head around, searching the chamber for anything else, any other presence.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Snorri heard chains clinking high above him. He raised his eyes, searching for movement in a vast web of chains until he spotted a vast hulking form descending from the chamber's high ceiling. Snorri activated his appraisal skill non-verbally, five separate question marks flickered into his vision above the form. Gnomish researchers had once recorded a creature with four digits, but as far as Snorri knew, nothing could be five digits in level. A cold shiver went down Snorri’s spine as the thing descended to the floor across the chamber from him. Eight long limbs, seemingly made from a dark metal alloy, unfurled, and the creature appeared to stretch each in turn before slowly raising its vast arachnoid form from the ground.

The creature lumbered its way towards Snorri, its legs making a sound similar to a blacksmith's hammer hitting an anvil as it crossed the vast dark chamber. Snorri wanted to run but was paralyzed by fear. The creature looked down at him, thousands of beady eyes locked onto the tiny gnome. Snori closed his eyes, ready to meet whoever the Gnomish gods were. Snorri listened as the vast spider drew in a breath and waited to die. After thirty seconds or so, he dared to open his eyes. The spider, seemingly waiting for him to look, cleared its throat.

“What… are you?” the creature asked Snorri in perfect Gnomish. Snorri spluttered in shock. All he could do was utter incredulously, “H-H-How can you speak Gnomish?” in a frightened whisper. The great spider moved its head in closer to the tiny gnome, its many eyes locked on the creature, before it chuckled, moving its head back. “You hang on the wall in a museum for a few centuries and try not picking up the language,” the spider said. Snorri's eyes widened in realization. The cursed artifact. “Now please, I have answered your question. You must trade fairly, little one. What are your creatures?” the spider asked. Snorri took a moment to think before deciding to tell the creature the truth. “Um, Gnomes,” Snorri said tentatively. “I’m a Gnome.” The creature seemingly looked at him more closely for a second. Snorri had the vague sense it was using the appraisal skill on him. Maybe it was working out how Snorri would taste.

“Who are you?” Snorri asked the creature. The creature seemed surprised, as if it had never been asked that before. It took a moment in thought before saying, “I have many names: The Death-spinner, the Blood-Weaver. I am the Spinner of Shrouds, the Binder of Blades, the Weeping Web, The Chain of Dark Bindings…” The spider creature hesitated before swinging his entire body close so his fangs were nearly touching Snorri’s chest before adding in an almost whisper, “I am Arracop.”