“Speak, wretch!”

Ethan’s face slowly turned a sickly purple, as Briarwood’s tight grip crushed his windpipe like a vice. Shadowy Black smoke bellowed from the coattails of his jacket and pooling around his feet, as if an unseen fire were raging from within his suit.

With a wheezing gasp, Ethan quietly began to speak, every word little more than a strangled whisper. "Th…the merchants…i-it was just a job….”

The hand around his neck continued to tighten, only straining his voice further. “*Ghrk-*...s-said to sabotage…ruin the silk…make the spiders look-*Hrrgk-*... dangerous!”

My eyes glanced between Briarwood's imposing form and Ethan, cowering beneath him. Then the Warden’s stance started shifting subtly, looking down at the paralyzed man, then at the spiders crowding the room in agitation.

Anya and Moritz used his sudden distraction to their advantage. Moritz moved forwards and knelt by Ethan, his voice softer, yet firm.

"Sir Briarwood, he should be turned over to the authorities.”

Ethan thrashed briefly, his face quickly turning a frightening shade of purple under the Warden’s ever-tightening grasp, before suddenly falling limp. Anya lunged forward with her hands gripping the daggers by her waist, her voice laced with urgency. “Reginald! Release him!"

Briarwood blinked in hesitation, a flicker of something akin to surprise crossing his shadowed features. For just a moment, his hold slackened.

Moritz seized the opportunity, standing once again and stepping closer to Briarwood.

"When were you last blessed, Warden?" His voice was quiet and soft, yet still managed to cut through the silent tension in the air. "Cleansed of the dungeon's corruption?"

The question hung heavy. Briarwood’s eyes darted around the room, a deep frown creasing his brow.

"Blessed?" he echoed, his voice raspy and unfamiliar. "Cleansed? I…" He trailed off, a lost look in his eyes.

It was all the opening Anya needed.

With little warning, she launched herself at Briarwood. Quickly I followed suit, dashing to his other side and slammed into the crazed warden with a wild tackle. The surprise attack sent him stumbling, and with a yelp, he crashed to the floor. The spiders surrounding us scattered in a flurry of legs.

As the two of us worked together to pin the struggling man to the floor, I gave a pointed look towards Moritz, wordlessly asking for help. With swift and practiced motions, he pulled open a small pouch affixed to his belt and reached a hand inside, grabbing a handful of shimmering dust and tossing it over us while changing a short prayer under his breath. A soft golden light began emanating from the dust like fireflies in the night, momentarily pushing back the shadowy tendrils creeping out of Briarwood’s suit.

The Warden thrashed violently, letting out an almost inhuman roar as the motes of gold surrounded him. Anya and I grunted as we were nearly thrown back, but we clung to Briarwood as best we could. Slowly as the glow around us began to wane, his movements weakened until finally he laid still.

A moment passed, the three of us just trying to catch our breath. Anya turned to Moritz, her eyes wide in surprise and confusion. "You're ordained?"

He flashed a cheeky grin. "Nope. Priestcraft was just my elective."

The room buzzed with the lingering energy of the battle. Floating spots of dust danced in the dying golden light that still faintly surrounded the warden's crumpled form.

“Is he fully cleansed?” Anya asked, poking at Briarwood.

“No, not even close. It simply weakened the Dungeon’s grasp on his soul.” Moritz responded. He straightened, brushing his uniform with a sigh.

"He'll be out for a little while, though. We need to get him away from the dungeon before he wakes." He continued.

Anya nodded, her eyes still fixed on the unconscious body on the floor. The oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon weighed heavily on all of us, the tension and fear not waning for even a moment, even after everything had calmed.

Suddenly, Anya’s eyes darted upwards, features laced with unease as she watched the spiders flow along the walls, clambering into darkened corners out of sight. “The spiders…” she whispered, voice low as if to avoid alerting them to our presence again.

She let out a deep breath, brow furrowed in determination. "The horses." She declared, coming to her feet.. "We secure them, and get out of here."

Moritz staggered towards Ethan's prone form slumped over the table, pressing a finger against his neck. "He's alive, barely. But hauling a dead weight and a madman at the same time…" His voice trailed off, glancing between the two unconscious men.

I grabbed Briarwood's feet, slinging an arm under his shoulders and lifting him up. He’s a lot heavier than he looks. Knees nearly buckling from the weight, I looked back at Moritz. "We have to try. Sirocco has a church... maybe they can undo whatever this dungeon did to him."

He nodded, picking Ethan up and slinging him over his shoulder with a huff. As he did, Anya came towards me and grabbed onto one end of Briarwood's body, helping to ease the load.

It took every ounce of our combined strength to haul our prisoners to where the horses were tethered outside, their agitated whinnies filling the air. Anya and I secured the warden across the saddle as best we could, as Moritz put Ethan onto his horse with enviable ease.

The journey away from the dungeon began as a nightmare scramble. The horses sensed our urgency, making them about as skittish and jumpy as we were, making progress slow and dangerous. With every rustle of leaves, every crack of a branch left us whipping out heads around, awaiting yet more horrors from the shadows.

By the time we began reaching the outskirts of the forest, the sun was dipping below the horizon, long shadows cast across the landscape like inky tendrils. A feeling of relief washed over me for a moment, but was cut short as all our horses suddenly pulled to a stop, bucking wildly and whining in panic.

The reason was plain to see: the path ahead was completely blocked, a monstrous web stretching across the entire road. It was no mere trap, either, instead a veritable fortress of woven silk stood before us, thick strands reaching all around reinforced against the branches and boulders of the woods.

My head darted around, desperately trying to find the web’s creators lying in wait to ambush us. Panic filled my heart more and more with every glance, the trees seeming to sway erratically and shift around every time I looked away.

Wait… Those aren't trees…

…They're legs.

Just as the realization hit, a massive, bulbous form lowered itself from the forest canopy, crouching to block the path ahead.

Lilly.

As she appeared, dozens of her larger children filtered down around her, dangling from the trees. Most likely her royal guard, following her wherever she goes.

My heart pounded against my ribs as the giant spider eased closer, a strangled wordless noice passing my lips. Her eight eyes glinted with an intelligence that almost pierced right through me. It was as unsettling as it was fascinating. She was horrifying, yet there was a strange grace in her movements, and almost... cautious curiosity.

Anya’s hand awas already on the hilt of her dagger, her knuckles white. Moritz whispered a prayer under this breath, more out of habit than expectation, I supposed.

Anya's eyes narrowed. She leaned forwards in her saddle with her teeth grit in focus, though it was clear even through her brave expression that she was just as scared as I, beads of sweat streaming down her face. “We’re not getting around, or through.”

She scanned her eyes across the forest around us, eyes flicking between the various large arachnids surrounding us. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

My hands tensed around the reigns. “I don’t know, but let’s not give them a reason to.”

Then, to my astonishment, Lilly shifted her focus from our group to Briarwood's crumpled form slumped over the back of my stallion. She extended a spindly leg, a renewed pang of fear running through me as the appendage got so close to me, delicately probing his silken suit.

A sudden tremor ran through his body at the touch, and she pulled back hesitantly. A low, guttural sound rumbled from her, not quite a growl, but something more akin to a questioning hum.

She raised her massive head to fix her multifaceted eyes back on our group. A wave of nausea and unnatural vertigo crashed over from under her gaze. Despite her monstrous appearance, those eyes held a depth I'd never encountered before, human or otherwise.

That’s when I saw it. It wasn’t hunger or malice in her gaze, but confusion. Concern.

Briarwood had genuinely cared for her and her kin.His focus bordered on obsession, but I could see that he held a deep love for her in him, and it appeared that she returned it in kind.

Taking a deep reassuring breath, I raised a shaky hand out and spoke. “Lilly, We… We mean him no harm. He’s corrupted, sick in his spirit”

Her head shifted closer again to focus solely on me, nearly making me flinch.. “I swear to you, we’ll keep him safe. We’re taking him to get help, and once he’s recovered. I’m… I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you again.”

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Unerring silence filled the cold autumn air for what felt like an endless eternity as the Queen stood there, staring me down, judging my words. My breath caught in my throat, unable to turn away for fear of breaking what little resolve I had left.

Then, Lilly moved. It was a slow deliberate gesture, as she lifted a foreleg, not in attack, but in a strange echo of a bow. A ripple ran through the ranks of spiders, causing them to shift uneasily but not withdraw.

“We’ll keep him safe, Lilly.” I repeated. “I promise.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the pounding of my heart and the rustle of the wind. Then her body shuddered and moved once more. Her massive body lowered slightly, her eyes seeming to dim in what I could only assume was resignation. She turned away, prompting a silent sigh of relief from Anya and Moritz.

Slowly, the other spiders pulled the massive web apart, creating a narrow path just wide enough for our horses to pass. We rode through slowly and cautiously intensely aware of the giant spiders on either side continuing to stare us down.

The journey back was tense and wordless. As the light wore thin, Anya moved to the front of our group, her posture stiff. Her usually casual demeanor had vanished, replaced by a silent determination. Moritz, much more visibly nervous and stressed, shifted in his saddle uncomfortably over and over.

Even Briarwood, stirring briefly in his unconscious stupor with a groan, did little to lighten the mood. His eyes, flicking open for but a moment, were clouded with confusion. His sharp features slackened as the dungeon's corruption was still clawing at his mind.

By the time Sirocco came into view, twilight had painted the sky in streaks of violet. Eager to finally put an end to this nightmare of an expedition, we pushed forwards with renewed energy, the horses sprinting down the road.

We were met at the gates by a startled guard. “Saints above!” he exclaimed. “What in the-”

“Is Father Cedric available?” Anya cut him off. “This man…” She gestured at Briarwood, “He’s been corrupted. We have to get him blessed, and quickly.”

The guard hesitated. His eyes darted between Briarwood’s slumped form, the bound man, and the lingering traces of golden dust on our clothes. Finally he gave a hesitant nod, waving one of the other guards to open the gate. “Come with me, I’ll escort you to the abbey.”

We made our way through the city quite swiftly, the bustling traffic of the street long passed this late in the day. The abbey was near the center of the town, an almost ancient looking construction of pale stone with a singular, tall belfry.

Anya leapt off her horse and moved towards Briarwood. “Come on, help me with him.” she said to the guard and I.

Together, we pulled Briarwood off the back of the horse and slowly carried him between us. Even as he faded in and out of consciousness, there was a wrongness to his unmoving form. With each awkward step, he let out a low, pained moan, but nothing more.

As we reached the large wooden doors, two robed figures emerged. Their faces a mix of curiosity and concern. However, we couldn’t waste time with introductions.

“Father Cedric,” Anya called out. “This is Warden Briarwood. He is in need of the god’s blessings.”

The older of the two figures glanced at Briarwood, looking him up and down with stern eyes before nodding. “Bring him.” He spoke curtly, pointing to the door. A sense of foreboding clung to us as we passed through the doorway, The Wardens ragged breaths echoed off of the walls.

Father Cedric led us to a back room filled with small cots and had us lay him down. The air was heavy with incense, and at the head of the cot sat a simple altar with a golden brazier.

The priest began to inspect his patient. “The corruption is deep- but, not unrecoverable.” He murmured. “We must act swiftly.”

The three of us assisted him in removing Briarwood’s strange silken suit. But I wasn’t prepared for what we found underneath. His skin had begun to lose its color, a sickly gray creeping up his arms, laced with deep purple tendrils that followed the veins towards a large discolored splotch over his heart.

He gestured towards us. “Stand beside me, and hold him down if he stirs.”

Slowly he began to chant a prayer, placing a golden coin over various parts of his body with each pause. First over his stained heart, then progressing down the corruption on his limbs. With each coin, a sizzling sound filled the air, followed by a guttural moan escaping Briarwood’s lips. His body writhed on the cot, face contorted in pain. Anya and I gritted our teeth, doing our best to hold down the rugged man.

The scent of frankincense intensified, thick and almost suffocating as the insense burners flames grew brighter. The coins seemed to be absorbed into Briarwood’s skin, sinking in and leaving behind a faint metallic imprint where they were placed. Slowly, the gray patches receded, a healthy color returning to his hands and feet.

Father Cedric continued his chanting, his voice rising in intensity echoing off the walls in an ethereal way. When he reached the final verse, Briarwood’s pained struggling suddenly came to a stop, and he laid still. The sickly pallor was completely gone, replaced by his natural skin tone, but there was something… different.

The areas of deepest corruption, the tendrils of unnatural purple that spread across his form, had not returned to normal. Rather, they now glinted under the parish candlelight with a metallic gleam, golden scars now criss-crossing over his chest, face, and limbs.

In a twist of fate that I must assume is some kind of poetic irony from the gods, it almost looked like a large spider’s web had been imprinted onto the Warden. A web of gold, centered right over his heart.

I looked over to Father Cedric and could see the exhaustion on his face, but even so there was a calm look of pride in his eyes. “It is done,” He declared, his voice hoarse. “The corruption has been purged.”

“He will be weak for some time,” Cedric continued, “But he will recover, and be able to continue his duties. He shall stay here until he awakens.” He steps away from the cot towards us, a tired smile on his face. “Go on, now. It is getting quite late, and I am sure we are all very tired from this ordeal. We’ll inform you in the morning when he awakens.”

Anya and I exchanged bewildered looks. Kerich had told me that being blessed replaced the corruption of the dungeon with gold. But I hadn’t expected anything like this. No matter what, though, it was a small price to pay for his recovery. And the father was right: it was rather late.

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An eerie tension clung to the South Dungeon Center as Anya and I stepped through the main entrance. The air crackled not with the usual flurry of activity, but with a tense, expectant silence. The familiar scent of old stone and ancient paper was laced with a hint of unease, the halls lit only by a few scones along the walls and the late moonlight peering through the windows.

“Where is everyone?” Anya muttered.

As if to answer her question, a shuffling sound from a side passage drew our attention. Two Wardens, grim faced and heavily armed, were hoisting a bound figure along, their face hidden under a burlap hood. But as the figure struggled weakly, I soon realized who it was.

“Ethan…” I sighed. It was the poacher.

“Bound for prison, no doubt. Dungeon sabotage comes with heavy fines.” Anya shook her head with a sigh of her own, as the prisoner was dragged out through the door we came.

With heavy hearts, we continued into the Dungeon Center, quickly finding Moritz hunched over a stack of papers in one of the study rooms. His usually stoic face was shadowed by dim candlelight, exhaustion carving dark circles under his eyes.

“Moritz.” I nodded quietly as the two of us entered. He waved a hand lazily, continuing to flick through the forms in front of him.

“We saw them taking Ethan away.” Anya said.

He looked up, his weariness momentarily overshadowed with concern. “I heard. It… seems justice will be swift. The Silverthread Consortium pays plenty to keep it that way.” He let out a long sigh, his fingers pinching over his eyes. “Any news about Briarwood?”

“Father Cedric believes he will recover, though it will take time. He’s resting now in the Abbey’s infirmary.” I answered.

“That’s good, at least. Perhaps I will visit…”

Anya cut him off. “Later. Right now, it feels like we’ve been gone a year instead of a day. There’s reports to file, and my stomach is about to cave in.”

A tired smile crawled up Moritz’s face as he stood. “The mess hall it is, then.”

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Auster Empire Gilt Services Division

Dungeon Inspection Report

Date: 1st of Foristal, 450 D.E.

Inspector: Arin Wicket

Location: The Queen's Cellar (Subterranean)

External Description:

* Type: Infestation, Arachnid

* Structure: Unassuming cellar entry concealed within an older, above-ground warehouse structure.

* Size: Extent of infestation indeterminate due to underground nature. Possible tunnels and chambers below.

* Visibility: Difficult to detect without prior knowledge of location. Presents minimal surface profile, unlikely to be noticed by casual observers. However, spider activity outside the dungeon may draw attention from those traveling within the forest nearby. (See Environmental Changes)

Roaming Monsters:

* Description: Multiple forms of giant spider observed:

* Small: Roughly the size of human hands, appear identical to non-threatening "Royal House Spider" species.

* Large: Size varies, ranging from guard dog to horse-sized. Also appear to be the same Royal Spider species, but greatly enlarged.

* The Queen: Singular individual. Main body is estimated to be as large as a carriage, with leg span comparable to tall homes. . Sighted in a central nesting area.

* Threat Assessment: Threat of monsters varies based on spider size:

* Small: Likely non-threatening, though large numbers could create a nuisance.

* Large: Significant danger, capable of incapacitating individuals.

* Queen: Poses a lethal threat. Appears to be directing the colony, likely the core of the infestation.

Environmental Changes:

* Previous State: Refer to initial inspection report (18th of Apricotus).

* Current State: Surrounding forests show signs of rapid infestation: Large, oversized spiderwebs span between trees, creating significant hazards. Evidence of wildlife caught within these webs.

Observations and Assessments:

* Tame Behavior: Despite their monstrous size, the spiders (excluding the Queen) exhibit surprisingly passive behavior. No unprovoked attacks observed during the inspection.

* Private Warden Briarwood: Private Warden Briarwood displayed an unusual fascination with the Royal Spider species, and was found to be heavily corrupted by the dungeon’s influence. He was detained and rushed to clerical attention, and as of writing is in recovery.

* Possible Sentience: The Queen seems to display remarkable intelligence, coordinating worker spiders and web construction efforts. They also appear to have developed a strong personal attachment to Private Warden Briarwood.

* Strategic Expansion: Webs spread throughout the forest suggest a deliberate effort to ensnare prey, fueling the infestation's growth.

Threat Scale: Low (Immediate)/ Medium (Ongoing): Current threat to individuals within the region is low due to tame nature. However, unchecked expansion poses great economic risk and potential dangers to unprepared travelers.

Conclusion:

The Queen’s Cellar is a decidedly dangerous infestation that requires careful handling. Standard containment tactics will likely prove ineffective in the long run. Personal recommendations include:

* Further Observation: Closely monitor spider behavior patterns to assess long-term risk, and determine if peaceful coexistence is possible.

* Specialized Consultation:

* Consider on-boarding of an Arachnological specialist.

* Recommend The Silverthread Consortium to hire a full-time clergy member.

* Specialized Removal: If containment or peaceful influence fail, non-lethal creature extraction or specialized insecticides will be necessary.

Inspector's Signature:

Arin Wicket