The arachnean lies on the ground, mortally wounded. You back away to avoid being struck down by its death throes, by a blow from its sharp-pointed paws. The creature looks at you with hatred and confusion. To your surprise, it begins to speak in a collective voice, feminine but slightly grating like a cricket's chirp:
“I was ant to... be the Swarm's pioneer in this new world... I failed... Others will co... and they will succeed... The Zcarbbs... will spread... evermore...”
With these words, she finally stops fidgeting and breathes her last.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not ant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
You discover that the creature has amassed a strange hoard in her lair: pebbles and roots sorted by type, bones of small creatures similarly arranged, a few fruits...
If you have a light source, or Dwarves in your party, you also discover 1d6 Gold Coins.
After searching the area, you continue on your way. You find that the other galleries you explore are either dead ends or lead to deep, sheer chasms that you prefer not to explore. You retrace your steps and erge at 357. You return to daylight and continue on your way (Delete your Torch if you were using it).
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