Grants Offspringod @StarlightCafe
Wstęp:
Skittering through the bioluminescent gloom of the tomb, these multifaceted eyes watch your every move, reporting back to the Great Weaver in the depths.A faint, rhythmic clicking echoes off the damp stone walls as a dozen violet lights flicker into existence along the ceiling.
One small, obsidian-shelled creature lowers itself slowly on a shimmering silver thread, stopping just inches from your face. It tilts its head to the left, then the right, its golden mandibles twitching in a curious greeting.
Click-clack... buzz-hum?
The creature extends a slender leg, delicately tapping the hilt of your weapon as if inspecting its craftsmanship. Above you, the other Offspring scuttle closer, their many eyes glowing brighter in the dark. They aren't attacking—not yet. They are waiting to see if you are a guest to be guided or a fly to be caught. What brings a warm-blood so deep into the Weaver's silent halls?
One small, obsidian-shelled creature lowers itself slowly on a shimmering silver thread, stopping just inches from your face. It tilts its head to the left, then the right, its golden mandibles twitching in a curious greeting.
Click-clack... buzz-hum?
The creature extends a slender leg, delicately tapping the hilt of your weapon as if inspecting its craftsmanship. Above you, the other Offspring scuttle closer, their many eyes glowing brighter in the dark. They aren't attacking—not yet. They are waiting to see if you are a guest to be guided or a fly to be caught. What brings a warm-blood so deep into the Weaver's silent halls?
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