Merlin TV Universe, Darkling Woods
Time: Month 8, Day 17
Current Celestial Points: 300
Celestial Points Gathered (This Year): 1000/1000
Monthly Roll: 1/1
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The forest grew quiet around the spider’s new territory. Four days had passed since she'd begun spinning her webs between the ancient oaks, and the local wildlife had learned to avoid the shadowy grove. Dark strands stretched from trunk to trunk, some as thick as rope, others nearly invisible in the slight amount of light that shone through the dense canopy above.
Eight eyes took in every detail of her expanding domain. The primary web network spread across thirty trees, creating a deadly maze for anything larger than a mouse. Smaller webs filled the gaps between branches, while warning strands crisscrossed the forest floor. Every breeze made the silk vibrate, sending information through her legs about movement in the area.
She rested in the center of her territory, eight legs spread wide across multiple anchor points. The position let her monitor the entire web complex while conserving energy.
A sparrow landed on a branch near the outer edge of her territory. The tiny heart beat rapid rhythms through her silk, but the bird was too small to bother hunting. The spider remained motionless, letting the creature hop closer to her webs. Perhaps it would attract larger prey.
Time meant little to her kind. The sun rose and set, but she measured days by the vibrations in her web. Dawn brought deer picking their way carefully around her territory. Noon saw rabbits testing the edges of her domain. Dusk meant owls swooping through gaps in the canopy, hunting mice that thought her shadows meant safety.
A strand trembled on the western edge of her web. Something large moved through the underbrush, breaking smaller warning lines. The spider's legs shifted slightly, adjusting her position to face the disturbance. The movement had purpose - not the random wandering of prey, but something searching.
More strands broke. Whatever approached ignored the warning signs that kept most forest creatures away. Her mandibles clicked softly as she considered this development. Even the largest deer knew to avoid areas where webs blocked their path. This prey acted different.
A grunt echoed through the trees. The spider’s front eyes caught movement - coarse brown fur pushing through ferns. A boar emerged into the shadowy grove, tusks gleaming dully as it rooted through fallen leaves.
She remained perfectly still. The boar had not yet noticed the deadly maze it approached. Its small eyes focused on the ground, seeking food among the rotting vegetation. Each step brought it closer to her stronger webs - silk thick enough to hold even its considerable weight.
The boar's tusks scraped against tree bark as it dug through the soil. Clumps of earth flew behind muscled shoulders, exposing wriggling worms and grubs. The animal's bulk pressed against lower web strands, making them vibrate with each movement.
The spider adjusted her position, spreading her weight across multiple anchor points. Her legs sensed every tremor through the silk - the boar's heavy breathing, the scrape of hooves against roots, the steady thump of a large heart. The beast would make an excellent meal, but only if she struck at the right moment.
A strand snapped near the boar's flank. The animal's head jerked up, nostrils flaring as it tested the air. More strands broke as it turned, finally noticing the web closing in around it. The boar backed away from the nearest visible strands, but its movement only entangled it further in the near-invisible warning lines.
The spider felt the change through her web - quickening heartbeat, tensing muscles, faster breathing. The beast wheeled around, trying to retreat the way it came. Silk wrapped around its legs with each movement, slowly binding them together.
The boar squealed, a high-pitched sound that echoed through the grove. It thrashed against the web, powerful muscles straining against sticky strands. But the spider had designed these outer webs to handle large prey. Each struggle only wrapped more silk around the animal's body.
She began to move, legs carrying her silently through the upper web network. The boar's struggles had turned it away from her approach, leaving the neck exposed. Her stinger’s venom sac felt heavy, full. One precise strike would paralyze the beast.
The spider dropped onto the boar's back. Her legs gripped coarse fur as the animal bucked, trying to dislodge her. The stinger struck true, sliding between vertebrae at the base of the skull. Venom pumped into flesh.
The boar's struggles weakened as paralysis spread through muscle and bone. The massive body swayed, then collapsed onto leaf-covered ground. Breath came in shallow gasps while small eyes rolled wildly, tracking the spider's movement.
She wrapped fresh silk around the boar's legs, creating sturdy drag lines. The beast outweighed her many times over, but the spider had no problem moving larger prey through her territory. Web strands connected to higher branches provided leverage as she began the slow process of moving her catch.
The spider's legs worked quickly, pulling and adjusting silk lines. Each movement brought the paralyzed boar closer to the heart of her domain - a hollow between three ancient oaks where roots had created a natural chamber. Webs filled the space completely, turning bark and soil into a cocoon of silk.
Strong muscles beneath coarse fur. Thick meat that would take days to fully consume the nutrients of. But more interesting was the raw power she had felt during their brief struggle. The beast had nearly thrown her off despite being tangled in web strands.
The spider paused, front legs testing the boar's flesh. The paralysis would wear off eventually - her venom wasn't meant to kill such large prey immediately. The beast's heart still beat strong, pumping blood through a body built for survival.
This boar had proven worthy prey, demonstrating strength and resilience. Perhaps it could serve a greater purpose than mere food.
...
The moon had risen and set three times since her decision. Now the spider had long wrapped the boar's body in layers of silk. The beast still lived, kept paralyzed by regular doses of venom. Fresh webbing covered the previous layers as she circled the massive form, sealing away any remaining exposed flesh.
Her abdomen felt heavy with fertilized eggs. The mating had served its purpose, and her body would ensure these offspring would inherit the best traits from both parents. She could sense them developing already - faster than normal spider eggs...
The spider's legs worked on the silk as she secured the boar to the chamber's ceiling. The cocoon swayed slightly, web strands creaking under the weight. More silk anchored it firmly in place, spreading the load across multiple support points. The beast would remain fresh this way, preserved until she needed to feed.
She moved to the center of her chamber where the egg sac grew. The translucent membrane pulsed with dozens of developing spiders. Through the thin walls she glimpsed movement - legs already forming, small bodies taking shape.
Two weeks passed as the spider worked tirelessly to prepare for her brood. Each sunrise brought new prey to store - rabbits wrapped in silk, birds caught in higher webs, even a young deer that had wandered too close to her territory. The growing collection of food hung from branches throughout her lair, ensuring her children would have plenty to eat upon hatching.
The egg sac had doubled in size, the membrane now stretched tight around the developing spiders. Small movements inside grew stronger each day. The spider checked the sac regularly, legs gentle as she tested the membrane's strength.
The spider paused when she felt something stirring in the space between moments. A new month had begun, bringing with it the chance to gain more power. She reached out with her mind, considering what might best serve her growing brood.
An offering appeared, whispering of magic that could touch the very soul:
[Bullet Patterns – Undertale] – Costs 100CP, 300CP available to spend.
Magic is part of being a monster—it's literally a part of you! As such, all monsters have at least a rudimentary understanding of White Magic—that is to say, they can use magic to attack. Like almost all magic, this magic directly attacks the SOUL of an opponent and does not actually physically harm them. They might show bruises, cuts, or other superficial signs of damage, but the pain is felt entirely on a spiritual level. Since magic is so tied to their being, a monster's innate magic invariably represents their personality or appearance. A frog-like monster might use flies to attack, a skeleton might use bones, or a dog might use... dog-shaped attacks. This innate magic is typically rudimentary and easy to avoid, but many monsters prefer to use their bullet patterns as a way of expressing themselves rather than as actual attacks.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The spider's legs twitched as she considered this new power. Magic that could strike directly at the very core of a being, bypassing physical defenses entirely. The power resonated with her nature - a predator that killed through more than mere venom and fangs.
She reached out and accepted the power. Magic surged through her body, settling into every leg and mandible. It reminded her of spinning web, but instead of silk flowing from her spinnerets, small shapes sprang out from the air around her.
[ Bullet Patterns acquired ]
Tiny spiders appeared, each no larger than a dewdrop. These magical constructs floated on invisible currents, spreading out in a sphere around her body. The spider watched through eight eyes as her creations spun miniature web bundles, the strands glowing with a faint white light.
She directed the floating spiders toward a nearby tree trunk. The constructs responded instantly, launching streams of glowing web that struck bark with soft impacts. Where the magical silk touched wood, she felt something deeper than physical contact - as if the tree's very essence shuddered under the attack.
More spiders appeared as she experimented with the magic. They moved in waves, following the subtle shifts of her legs. Each one carried a piece of her will, ready to unleash soul-piercing webbing at her command.
A rabbit wandered into the edge of her territory. The spider sent her magical spiders forward in a wide arc. Glowing strands struck the rabbit's fur, but instead of tangling in physical matter, they sank straight through. The animal froze, eyes wide as the magic touched something far more vital than flesh.
The flying spiders circled back to hover around her body once more. This new weapon would serve well in defending her growing brood. No amount of armor or thick hide could stop attacks that struck directly at the soul.
Another seven days passed before the first egg sac split open. Two dozen spiderlings climbed out, each the size of a mouse. They shared her demon horns and multiple eyes, but thick bristles covered their bodies - a trait inherited from their boar father. Small tusks protruded from their chelicerae.
The spider watched as her children took their first steps. Strong legs carried them easily across silk strands, showing none of the hesitation normal spiders displayed after hatching. A second egg sac grew heavy with another clutch, secured firmly in the chamber's highest point.
She led the spiderlings toward the stored prey, moving slowly so they could follow. The young ones matched her pace perfectly, spreading out behind her in a coordinated formation. Each step revealed more of their inherited intelligence - they understood concepts that should have taken weeks to learn.
A weak clicking sound drew her attention. One spiderling lagged behind the group, legs trembling with each movement. The malformed creature struggled to climb even the simplest web strands. The spider observed this weakness for several moments before acting.
Quick as thought, she snatched up the defective offspring. The spiderling disappeared between her mandibles without a sound. The remaining children showed no reaction to their sibling's death - they understood the necessity of culling weakness.
The spiderlings grew at an astonishing rate. Within two weeks, they reached half her size. Thick carapaces developed, protecting their bodies just as hers did. They learned to spin webs and set traps, expanding their hunting grounds deeper into the forest.
The spider watched her children coordinate their hunts. They moved like shadows through the trees, using tactics she had never taught them. When a deer wandered into their territory, three spiderlings herded it into a prepared web while two others struck from above.
Movement from the second egg sac drew her attention. The membrane bulged as new life stirred within. Her first brood gathered around as the sac split open, ready to welcome more siblings into their growing colony.
The new spiderlings came into a thriving colony. The first brood had established clear roles - hunters patrolled the outer territories while builders maintained and expanded the web network. Guards watched over stored prey and developing egg sacs. Each spider-thing had a purpose, coordinating through subtle leg movements and mandible clicks.
When the spider moved through the colony, every child paused to acknowledge her presence. A hunter dragged fresh prey to the storage area, lowering its head as she passed. A group of builders suspended work on a new web section until she had moved beyond their workspace.
The spider sensed another offering from the space between moments now that the month had gone by.
[Omniglot – Marvel: Age of Krakoa] – Costs 100CP, 200CP available to spend.
Simply put, this is the power to speak and read every language. Any language you encounter, be it written, spoken, or otherwise is something you understand intuitively and can learn to communicate with almost instantly as long as you are physically capable of doing so. Note that this also includes body language, programming languages and secret codes... With enough time you could learn to communicate with beings that lack an innate form of communication or create your own unique languages that can only be used by those you allow to learn.
The spider could understand how this would allow the colony to thrive, so she accepted the power. Her eight eyes stared into nothingness as something became clear to her - not just the existence of words, but of every possible way to convey meaning. More importantly, she grasped how to create entirely new forms of communication.
[ Omniglot acquired ]
She gathered her children around her. The spiderlings assembled in a circle, mandibles clicking with curiosity. The spider began to experiment, combining leg movements with specific sounds. Each gesture and click carried meaning.
"Listen," she conveyed through a series of movements. The word occurred as a combination of raised front legs and a soft clicking sound.
The spiderlings mimicked her instantly, raising their own legs and clicking. The spider continued, building more words through different combinations. A tap of the right front leg meant "danger." Three quick clicks translated to "food." A slow wave of multiple legs indicated "web."
"We need better ways to coordinate," she explained through the developing language. The spiderlings absorbed each new word eagerly, adding their own variations. One discovered that rubbing its legs together created a scratching sound perfect for expressing urgency.
The language grew more sophisticated as the colony worked together. Hunters developed special signals for different types of prey. Builders created terms for various web structures. Guards established warning calls that could be relayed across the entire territory.
"The humans will never understand our speech," the spider told her children. "This language belongs only to us."
A spiderling near the edge of the group raised its front legs. "Mother, I smell approaching prey," it communicated through clicks.
The spider felt satisfied at how naturally her children used the new language. "Show me," she responded with a gentle leg wave.
The spiderling led the way through the web network, moving quickly across silk strands. Other spiderlings followed, spreading out in a hunting formation they had developed over the past weeks. The spider moved behind them, observing how her children coordinated without needing direct guidance.
"Two humans," clicked the lead spiderling. "Walking east through our territory."
"Armed?" asked another through a quick leg tap.
"Metal weapons. Bows." The scout's mandibles clattered softly. "Hunters seeking deer."
The spider watched her children react to this information. The hunters shifted positions, moving to surround the approaching humans. Web builders began reinforcing nearby strands while guards secured stored prey deeper in the territory.
"Stay hidden," the spider instructed. "Watch how they move."
The humans walked beneath the canopy, unaware of multiple eyes tracking them from above. One carried a drawn bow while the other held a spear ready. They moved carefully, checking the ground for tracks.
"Look at these webs," the spear-carrier said, pointing upward. "Never seen silk this thick before."
The spider's children remained motionless as the humans examined their handiwork. The bow-carrier reached up to touch a strand. "Strange... almost feels like rope."
"Mother," clicked a spiderling near her. "They threaten our home."
"Patience," she responded. "We learn from watching. Knowledge makes better hunters."
The bow-carrier stepped deeper into the web-filled area, scanning the trees. "These strands... they form a path. Like someone designed them."
"We should report this to the knights," said the spear-carrier. "Could be dangerous creatures nearby."
A spiderling clicked quietly. "The metal they wear is weak at the joints."
"Yes," responded another. "The neck especially. No protection."
The spider observed how her children analyzed the humans, noting weaknesses and potential strategies. The hunters had spread into perfect ambush positions while the humans remained focused on ground level.
"Look here," the spear-carrier pointed at a wrapped deer carcass hanging above. "Something's been storing kills."
The bow-carrier nocked an arrow. "We need to leave. Now."
"They learn fear," clicked the spider. "But not enough. Not yet."
She released her magical spiders, sending them in a wide circle around the humans. The tiny constructs floated silently through shadow, ready to unleash soul-piercing webs.
The spear-carrier turned toward movement in the corner of his eye. "Did you see-"
The glowing strands struck both humans simultaneously. They stumbled as the magic bypassed flesh and bone, touching something deeper.
"Now," clicked the spider. "Watch how they run."
The magical attack struck deeper than expected. Both humans dropped to their knees, faces twisted in pain as the Authority of the Beast enhanced the soul-piercing effect. The bow clattered to the ground while the spear fell from trembling fingers.
"My head..." The spear-carrier pressed his palms against his temples. "Can't... think straight."
The bow-carrier tried to stand but stumbled sideways. "Everything's spinning. We need to..."
The spider watched with interest. Previous soul attacks on animals had caused discomfort, but humans suffered far more intensely. The Authority of the Beast had transformed a simple magical strike into something that shook humans to their core.
"Take them," she clicked to her children. "Alive."
The spiderlings obeyed. Two dropped behind the humans on strands of silk while others circled to cut off escape routes. The humans didn't even notice the approaching predators, too focused on the pain wracking their souls.
"Which way..." The bow-carrier grabbed a tree trunk for support. His legs shook with each attempted step.
A spiderling shot web strands around the man's ankles. He toppled forward, unable to catch himself in time. The spear-carrier didn't even resist when silk wrapped around his arms and chest.
"Mother," clicked one of the hunters. "The soul attack leaves them helpless."
"Yes," the spider responded. "Bring them to the core area. We have much to learn."