CRYPYE CRAWLY

Crypye the Gargantuan was a myth, at least according to most people (those who knew she wasn’t took great pains to ensure people continued to believe she was a myth rather than put too much thought into the existence of Crypye the gargantuan.) The truth was that she definitely existed. Long ago, a wizard (go figure bloody wizards would be involved) tired of spiders falling into his bathtub and then having to fish them out had cast a greater insect enlargement charm on the tub (a lesser one would have sufficed, but you know wizards, they don’t do anything by half measures, even if it means your own creation biting you on the ass later), so the spiders could see themselves out. With much the expected result, bewebbed wizard, a collapsed tower that now only made bloody big earthworms and pill bugs (which were of course promptly eaten,) and a gigantic spider for whom a rolled-up newspaper was no longer an effective deterrent.

Being 5 metres tall and 8 wide hadn’t really affected Crypye’s lifestyle all that much; she still spun webs (admittedly now big enough to be used for a game of badminton by two giants or as a substitute climbing frame). Still preyed on anything smaller than them (of course that was a much bigger list nowadays than it had been previously,) and all told was still a terrifying great big spider a lot of folks didn’t want to think about (although how big had, of course, changed significantly but Crypye didn’t really notice that so much apart from the vague awareness that there was a wider range of prey available now, and that sometimes this new prey shot spiky twigs at her, which was annoying, but just meant the food was a little spicier now ever since than bug in the pointy hat and robes.)

So life went on, and because of the sheer amount of people who for some reason did not wish to talk about a run-in with a spider as big as a horse-drawn carriage that usually either nommed or bewebbed said, horses, the existence of said spider became an unspoken myth.

The remains of the tower fell apart, but for some reason, maybe the thaumotological radiation gathered in the area, maybe the sheer scale of the problem she didn’t pass on. Resulting in severe prey depletion in the region (go figure, prey didn’t wish to stick around where there was a bloody git spider, and in the beastie equivalent to nope, nope, nope, fled the area as fast as their legs could carry them.) and a creature of nightmares suddenly doing the worst possible thing for a nightmarish creature to do, take their oversized self on tour.

Thus villages the world over started to think they needed a bigger newspaper (or a bathtub 50 feet tall, whichever worked really, they weren’t that fussy.)

So far, several villages had been thoroughly bewebbed, but nobody wished to think about the problem, much less discuss, debate, and plan how to tackle it, and so a solution to it was not forthcoming.

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Tyler was a former tailor from the village of Naylor (hard to be a current tailor there given the circumstances there at the moment.) He had been running for days and was cursing the fastidiousness of his former styling. Which had been geared towards high fashion resulting in excessive lacing and ruffles and more tripping than an uninspected music festival. This was not an outfit that was conducive to fleeing for one’s life, but oddly Tyler had never really factored that into his life plan after retiring from the capital.

He was exhausted, but kept running, as he figured being dead would upset his schedule even further (may Ordurlee forgive him for forsaking the sacred schedule.) So far, he hadn’t really gotten all that far but reckoned maybe the massive fields of cows would prove a more tempting prey than a walking mass of ruffles and bone such as himself. ( All that could really be said about his outfit was that he was in there somewhere.) It seemed he was correct in his assessment judging by the sheer number of bewebbed bovine he had encountered in his escape.

Then through the trees, he saw it, a big fancy carriage, but with a completely gilt free look, and for some reason big googly eyes, if he could warn them then maybe they could flee, and if he was lucky maybe even take him with them. So he dragged his way through the brambly bushes and plunged out into the path of the oncoming carriage.

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Mibbet was Relaxing in her carriage when it suddenly slammed to a stop, hurling her and her cousin around the mercifully well-padded carriage; thankfully, no matter the force, it wasn’t enough to shift the sheer bulk that was Alba, though Rascal gave a begrumpled MUUURRRR from his hideyhole and they could have done without Spikey the motivational pike rattling around loose. Eventually, when the world stopped rattling around her, Mibbet scrambled free from the carriage, Choppy in hand, to see what the fuss was about.

“Flee while you still can; she’s coming”, ranted a rather frilly peasant.

Errol, trying not to get carried away, replied, “who is coming.”

“Crypye, the Gargantuan, can’t you see all the webs? Turn back.”

At this point, Errol (who usually got his mum to deal with regular-sized spiders) froze up.

“Crypye the Gargantuan, surely you don’t expect us to believe such an old wives tale.” Said, sir Leeroy.

“Listen, mate, you think if it wasn’t for a giant spider do you think I’d be out in the trees in the arse end of nowhere dressed like this? It’s real; run like hell and don’t look back; I’d appreciate a lift, though.”

“Did you just say giant spider?” asked Mibbet while Rosalind filled her mind with nope after nope. Which way?”

“You want to go that way if you’re going to escape it,” said the peasant pointing towards an (as far as he knew) Arachnid free zone.

Mibbet then grabbed Choppy and ran, though Errol never could fathom why she was running towards it, let alone why she was drooling.