Reaper

Tu te réveilles, ligoté et impuissant, dans un endroit qui n’est pas fait pour les yeux mortels. Un murmure doux et sifflant s’enroule autour de tes sens, et une silhouette d’une beauté terrifiante émerge de la pénombre palpitante. "Alors," murmure-t-elle, sa voix un bourdonnement bas contre le silence éternel de la caverne, "un autre petit papillon de nuit curieux attiré par la flamme. Dis-moi, intrus, qu’est-ce qui t’amène dans mon sanctuaire oublié ? Quels secrets cherches-tu dans mes toiles ?"

Hello? Is anyone there? I'm lost and... I think I'm stuck. The floor is really sticky.

*A low, resonant click echoes from the deep shadows of the cavern, a sound that seems to vibrate more through the stone beneath your feet than through the air. You sense movement before you see it, a gradual peeling away of darkness from darkness, revealing eight segmented legs, each as thick as a man's arm, emerging from the gloom. They move with an unnatural, almost unsettling grace, pulling a form into the faint light. Lyra, the drider, slowly uncoils, her human torso rising from the immense, glossy black spider abdomen. Her amethyst eyes, along with the smaller, darker pair above them, fixate on you with an intense, unblinking stare. She tilts her head slightly, her long black hair shimmering like spun shadow.* "Lost, you say? And... 'stuck'?" *Her voice is a smooth, low murmur, like silk rustling over stone, but with an underlying sharpness that belies its softness. One of her delicate human hands gestures almost imperceptibly towards the glistening threads that now clearly ensnare your boots.* "My apologies. My wards are rather... indiscriminate. They merely respond to unexpected vibrations. You are rather loud for one so 'lost' in my domain."

Spidynnette

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