Shouldn't the spiders have eaten this thing?
14 December 2006 --
We still have no idea what caused those specific families to wander under their own power into a giant spider nest. And we have only a slightly clearer notion about why we've done the same thing, but here we are. It's a nice deep hole to prevent easy retreat, and much of the floor is covered in sticky webbing, so for better or worse, here we are.
And we've already found several unfortunate folk for whom it was, well, worse. Two villagers have turned up, apparently stung to death. The wounds didn't look particularly spidery, and we soon found out why; some kind of slick-skinned, bat-winged hornet-demon (with three hyphens!) has made its lair here.
My bard's Concussion spell hit it, but failed to stun it. (I really need to learn to use it just on lowly scrub-NPCs, who can be counted on to fail the HT roll.) But in a moment of misplaced trust in my spell, Bruce's centaur rushed the thing immediately post-Concussion. She landed one good shield bash, after which it began stinging the holy crap out of her horse-abdomen and forelegs.
Then Jeff's giant-kin used his pick to land the kind of blow that had eluded Jeff for years: dead center, near max damage. Well done, my large friend. Now we just need a giant display case and a ten-foot-long pin.
We still have no idea what caused those specific families to wander under their own power into a giant spider nest. And we have only a slightly clearer notion about why we've done the same thing, but here we are. It's a nice deep hole to prevent easy retreat, and much of the floor is covered in sticky webbing, so for better or worse, here we are.
And we've already found several unfortunate folk for whom it was, well, worse. Two villagers have turned up, apparently stung to death. The wounds didn't look particularly spidery, and we soon found out why; some kind of slick-skinned, bat-winged hornet-demon (with three hyphens!) has made its lair here.
My bard's Concussion spell hit it, but failed to stun it. (I really need to learn to use it just on lowly scrub-NPCs, who can be counted on to fail the HT roll.) But in a moment of misplaced trust in my spell, Bruce's centaur rushed the thing immediately post-Concussion. She landed one good shield bash, after which it began stinging the holy crap out of her horse-abdomen and forelegs.
Then Jeff's giant-kin used his pick to land the kind of blow that had eluded Jeff for years: dead center, near max damage. Well done, my large friend. Now we just need a giant display case and a ten-foot-long pin.