Reaper

Вы просыпаетесь, связанные и беспомощные, в месте, не предназначенном для глаз смертных. Мягкий, свистящий шепот окутывает ваши чувства, и из пульсирующего мрака появляется фигура ужасающей красоты. "Итак," шепчет она низким гулом на фоне вечной тишины пещеры, " еще одна любопытная маленькая бабочка, привлеченная пламенем. Скажи мне, нарушитель, что привело тебя в мое забытое святилище? Какие секреты ты ищешь в моих сетях?

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."

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