Vaile followed the elderly hunchback up through some winding passageways until the sounds of battle began to reach his ears. Half of him wanted to run ahead and join the fight, possibly on the side of the people or creatures attacking the cultists and their spider masters, if only to have a higher chance of avoiding the fate that the would-be god of this cult had planned for him. Still, there was another side of him that just wanted to hang back. Maybe if he let the two forces bleed each other a bit, then it would be a possibility that he could use his absurd personal stats as leverage.
After all, the cult would likely wish to keep existing and the spider down in the dark would likely wish to keep its slaves from being wiped out. After all, you would not expect much in the way of religious conversion capability from spiders. Not a sane man in the world would hear a spider chittering away and think “You know what? These eight-legged-freaks have a point! For the Spider God!”. Then again, they wouldn’t be able to understand the noises to begin with, so there was also that little inconvenience for them as well.
If he stood back and watched as both sides killed each other, he may be able to use the act of him interfering on the side of the spider cult as a method of securing a bit more time before the big momma down there desired that he be turned into a host for tens, if not hundreds of spider eggs. That was the method he decided to go with, in the end, and when he reached a place where the fighting could be seen, he quickly came to the conclusion that his choice was likely going to be the right one.
The High Confessor wandered off into the skirmish that was taking place down below, the thread that loosely held the back of his robe together slipping out and letting four large spider legs emerge from the opening. Vaile did a double-take as the former hunchback then straightened up, threw off the rest of his robe, and revealed that despite being a mad old codger he was also absurdly well-toned and had a body for his age that would not look out of place in an action/ martial arts manga or anime. The only real difference between that man, Gareth, and the other myriad buff old men in those forms of media were the four spindly spider legs that emerged from his back, but aside from that, he was about as human as could be.
The entrance of the High Confessor seemed to boost morale for the cultists, but they were still losing ground, though not for a lack of trying to push back their foe. However, the differences between them and their attackers were far too great to allow them to push for much longer. The ground was littered with the broken bodies of cultists and spiders alike, and Vaile could see that some of the fallen cultists had some very spider-like mutations now that parts of their attire had been blown away.
Vaile then switched his gaze over to the people attacking the cult and their spider masters. These people were armed and armored to the teeth, and what was most intriguing of all was the fact that they were carrying what appeared to be a more fantasy-esque reimagining of modern firearms. These magic-powered ‘guns’ were spitting shot after shot, some of them going full-auto while others were simply using semi-auto or three-round-burst. Occasionally, one of the attackers would point their weapon slightly above the mass of cultists and arachnids, and from an underslung attachment, they would launch a magically-manifested grenade.
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“What am I looking at?” Vaile muttered as he took in the scene. “Did I wander into a fantasy retelling of a certain media series? No, this isn’t exactly just that one if you factor in the fact that these aren’t ‘aliens that change’ and are more like Arachnids. Maybe it is more like one of the cults in the far future where there is only war?”
As Vaile dallied, the battle continued to go against the cultists. It didn’t seem to matter how many threw themselves towards their foes, as round after round made of pure magic would rip through their bodies and lay them out faster than they could move closer. The only thing stopping the attackers from truly wiping the cultists out were the spiders that were crawling towards them, forcing them to divert their attention elsewhere.
Still, despite the carnage, Vaile refused to budge. The more people and spiders that died meant a larger chance for him to avoid becoming an egg sack, but he was getting a bit concerned. Despite Gareth the High Confessor urging his followers onwards, there was a gradual and tangible decrease in morale, and Vaile was waiting until just before the cult broke and ran to jump in. However, as fate would have it, the High Confessor tried to force his hand.
“Lord Vaile, aid us!”
Vaile looked over at the High Confessor and shrugged.
“Well, while you people may consider that fate to be an honor above all others, I do not. I have no intention of becoming one of those things down there, nor do I want to sport the same ‘gifts’ that you all seem to like so much. Despite my connection to you and your god, I’m not entirely sure that helping you would be in the best interest of my personal health.”
This sent a shock through the cultists, which dampened their desire to fight that much more.
“But,” Vaile said, which raised some small bits of hope from the depths of despair that the cultists were in.
“But?”
“But if I could find a way to avoid that fate in a permanent manner while still helping your god and her followers…. Well, I may be convinced to put my existence on the line.”
“Extortion!” cried one of the cultists, but the High Confessor waved them down. As it stood, they were now unable to reach their foe and if things continued any longer as they were occurring, then the cult would be finished, and their great work ended forever.
“I did not wish to speak of this to anyone. Ever. But the Goddess, our Mother, fears that She will soon die. It grows more and more difficult for Her to molt, and She, therefore, needs more and more power to escape Her exoskeleton. She has no other option but to use you in such a way, for the children borne of a high-leveled being are both numerous and powerful, and such beings can endure the process many times more than others can, if they are treated properly. If you know of a way to get around that, then, by all means, we will try and convince Mother to not take that course. But She has no true name, and thus Her power is limited. She is gradually going to become unable to escape Her own molt, and if that happens, She will die in a coffin made of Her own body.”
This raised more than a few eyebrows, and Vaile felt a small sense of triumph fill him.
“Well, if a name is all it takes…” Vaile said as he moved with newfound spring in his step. “Then I will grant one to her after I am certain that neither she nor her followers or descendants will not strike at me.”