Flor had wandered into the museum, showing the token to Scribe Ja, who rolled her eyes at Barkeep Ja’s subterfusion. Then she followed the recommended path, carefully paying attention to anything that might seem like a puzzle to unlock the monument or an interface.
The first entry hall was a scale mockup of the monument grounds with a plaque showing the different locations of note, which Flor thought silly since you could easily see the same just going out of the front door and looking at it. A lever could be pushed down that raised the ‘beacon’ from the center stone and caused it to glow. Wow! So that’s the beacon, she thought sarcastically. But, assuming the mockup was a map of the area, Flor considered that it might act as a modular slider puzzle, but there were no other levers or other things that were manipulable in sight.
She wandered into the Widow’s Siege Hall, which was deceptive in that it looked larger than it likely was, probably from false walls with pictures and paintings commemorating the event. Some of them were particularly brutal. At one point, a random young man meandered by while Flor looked at a painting depicting two widow spiders pulling a man out of a window.
“Oh, that one’s my favorite. Or one of them, at least. Do you like it?” the man asked Flor.
“Not particularly. Er, I mean, the painting is exceptional, but the subject matter is brutal.”
“Yeah. It gets worse.”
Flor looked at the man, dressed in a typical starting brawler outfit. He had the name ‘Sparks - Brawler 0’ above his head. Flor started and took a step back, preparing herself for combat. “Oh, I didn’t realize there were other brawlers here.”
Sparks held up a hand in a calming motion. “No need to get defensive. I’m just curious because I haven’t seen you here before.”
“What do you mean before? Have you been here awhile?”
“Days, now. Maybe over a week. I haven’t counted. But you’re the first new person or thing that occurs other than one additional Brawler who comes through occasionally.”
A bit of realization came across Flor’s face. “You’re a player.” She increased her defensive posture.
“I’m not going to attack, but I will defend myself. I just wanted to introduce myself to someone new. Maybe something new to talk about. These…paintings…get repetitive after viewing them for days.”
Flor relaxed a slight amount, still watching Sparks closely. “Sorry, I’m defensive. The last player I met killed me a couple of times over. I’m not looking for another death.”
Sparks nodded. “Maelstrom got you too, huh? You know, though, that death is the release of rage, right?”
“I’d made that correlation, but hadn’t explored it much.”
“Look, I can tell you’re still uncomfortable; I’ll leave you alone. But before I go, I’ve conducted a few experiments on the death and rage equation on myself. If you’re around later, I’ll tell you more about it.” Sparks walked away.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Wait! I’m Flor.”
“Yes, I can tell. I go by Sparks.”
Flor held up her hand to shake. Sparks took the hand and bowed over it, then turned and walked toward the Central Hall.
“Maybe I’ll see you at the beacon tour. I go every night.”
Flor looked at the clock. It was just after 1600, so she had an hour to explore. She kept looking over her shoulder, unsure if she was looking for Sparks. Or Maelstrom. Or even Alastair. With a bit more haste, she glanced through the rest of the paintings and readings of the Hall. During the siege of Flit, 144 monster-sized widow spiders had assaulted the town over two days. The town defense went back and forth for control before being successfully defended by the population. All 144 spiders were killed, but 363 residents were killed or missing. Ah, so that’s why there are 363 stones out there.
She hurried up the stairs and through the History of Flit exhibit, where she learned about the Flit population of just over 10,000; the mountainous landscape; and the economic focus on agriculture with a small business district focused on bespoke timepieces. A detailed inset hung on the wall mapping the mostly unwalled town.
She glanced at the Why West Shilgrave room, which had a painting of a man who had paid for the build of the monument {it’s not worth knowing his name}, another of the architect {nor his name}, and a little plaque describing how the one had left Flit after the attack and loss of his family to beg upon his brother who lived in W. Shilgrave. The man told the story along the way and raised funding to dedicate to his wife and those lost. He eventually had more money than expected so he bought the land, hired the architect, and built the monument. There were a couple of crude sketches of possible monuments and a couple of personal records of the man.
“If I were stuck here for days, I’d read through all this. But wow does it seem boring at a glance!?” she said to herself. Flor had never been an appreciator of museums.
Still looking out for Sparks, Flor went to the third floor. Busy looking behind her, she turned and saw a looming cow-sized spider climbing around the wall in front of her! She immediately bounced back and took a fighting stance before realizing that the spider was at the entrance to the Widow Spiders’ exhibit. She wandered around the edge of the door and saw that it was less than half a spider, probably intended to spook guests just as it had her.
A plaque next to the display read ‘Not actual size. Life-size widow spiders are right behind you!’
Flor spun and saw a dozen smaller, but still unusually large spiders coming directly toward her. She jumped back and brushed the larger display, which caused her to spin again. She dropped to the ground, thinking she was about to be overrun, so she wrapped her arms over her head and neck and curled into a ball. A moment passed. Then another. She took a breath. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes, then wider. Just displays. The spiders were just displays.
She glanced around, hoping against embarrassment that this floor was as empty as the other two. As she stood, Flor noticed a unique use of perspective and that only one of the second set of spiders was a full mock-up. The rest were partial or painted into the wall.
“Well, dang. If they get me with a display, I can only imagine how frightening it must have been in real life.” She moved further into the exhibit. Another larger model splayed out with a plaque describing its features.
Flor noted that adult Widow Spiders reached a height of around 1m with a full length of around 6m. Adults typically weigh around 40kg. Their color ranges from dusty to dark brown. While neither poisonous nor venomous, their danger comes from their pack hunting. And…there is a one in five chance that any selected Widow Spider is magical, with spells including silence, slow, and in some cases haste. The casters are distinguishable by a small rear-facing horn aft their compound eyes.
“We’re going to have to fight one…or several…of these things. Huh…”
Flor was still looking at the display when she heard a chime ring through the museum. She glanced around. Since the exhibit was empty, Flor then looked at her interface. She noticed it was 1640, which meant the chime was likely to indicate the coming tour of the beacon. Widow’s Run is going to have to wait.