49 rooms · levels 12–25
Sticky, sticky, sticky! The ground is cluttered with leaves and the webbed, half-eaten remains of crickets, beetles, rats, dogs and even humans, and every step pulls at the sole of a boot. The air is damp, and what little light comes through the canopy seems to be swallowed by the webbing. The road lies back to the south; the webbed forest closes in to the north.
The footing here is good, almost too good: the roots and fallen limbs are coated with cobwebs and unusually strong. A papery hum comes from a hive to the west, and to the east the path runs on beneath strands so thick they shut out the sky. The webbed entrance is back to the south. High overhead, a single slippery strand hangs down out of the canopy.
Drones scuttle across the walls of this hollow, which are lined with six-sided cells of grey paper. Many of the maggots and wasps carry fang marks on their bodies, set in neat rows, as if someone keeps count. The crossing is to the east.
Another webby passage, all sticky and wet, and the air is full of tiny ballooning spiders drifting on threads of silk; these are newborns, hatched from the sacs that hang in clusters from every branch. The path runs east toward the sound of busy feet above, and back west to the crossing.
The sound of crawling arachnids comes from the branches overhead, and the rhythm of their footsteps has a primitive order to it. A thick, knotted strand climbs up toward the light; the nursery is back to the west.
Spiders, spiders, everywhere! A broad road of silk runs through the treetops, and the traffic on it is almost ant-like in its efficiency, with one big difference: these spiders are carrying ant corpses, along with rats, wolves and the odd human. The busy path runs north, and a knotted strand drops to the forest floor below.
The busy path bends here around a great trunk. Slaves of Arachnos trudge along it, bent under bundles of webbed prey, and drone spiders drive them on. The path runs south, and a branch leads west to a fork in the canopy.
As always, the road splits. The branch to the north is strewn with cricket feelers; the one to the south is smooth and well kept, and strangely bare of webbing. The busy path is back to the east.
This tree limb is fuzzy: its bark sprouts fine hairs, and looking closer, the hairs are millions of aphids covering every inch of it. The limb runs west to the trunk; the fork is back to the south.
The limb meets the great trunk here, and there is room to rest in a crook where the branches join. There is webbing about, but of a much finer quality than the rough silk below. A way leads north round the trunk; the fuzzy limb is to the east.
Whatever lives here does not web its victims. Desiccated corpses lie heaped about, bitten and drained of their juices but never wrapped. A dark opening leads west into a lair; the trunk is back to the south.
Very dark, as all spiders' lairs are, and bare but for its one way out. The wolf spider keeps no corpses here; she throws them out to rot at her leisure. The only exit is to the east.
Strange. No webbing here, and no sound whatsoever. The smooth path runs back north to the fork, and to the west it narrows to a single line stretched out across a ravine.
Stranger still: one's feet find a real, firm grip on the spider line, which stretches between two trees high above a deep ravine. Far below, a prismatic web glitters, full of animal bones, bear and small deer among them, though no human skeletons are visible (yet). The line runs back east, and a silken wood begins to the south.
This is the rainbow web, hung across the bottom of the ravine. Every strand and every link is a hue of violently sharp colors and contrasts, and the light bends strangely along it: the one who spun it commands light as well as silk. The only way out is the line far above.
The trees here are not trees any more but makeshift shafts of silk, sticky to the touch and webby in texture, as if this were another world. One of the shafts is hollow and leads straight down into the earth; the line above the ravine is back to the north.
This is the slave pit. A voice blares in the distance, "Get back to work, maggots!" Rails upon rails of mined gold and silver clutter the floor, and a tether path leads off east along them. The silk shaft climbs back up to the forest.
The tether path runs along the mine rails, surprisingly well lit by golden orbs that hang from its sides; the strands grow finer and finer in quality the further one goes. It runs west back to the slave pit and north to a crossing of strands.
Strands meet here in a shifty, almost ethereal knot. One of them rises straight up, past the forest floor and the canopy, into the sky; the tether path runs back south.
This strand is heavier and sturdier than the others, and it shimmers underfoot. This is no longer the Dales, and just where it is cannot be told: it feels like walking through ether. The strand runs east into the web, and back down to surer lands below.
This is the entrance to the ethereal web. Each strand flickers in and out of being, showing a different hue every time, from black to green to blue. The web's center lies east; a strand runs south toward a distant roar, and the leader strand is back to the west.
A playpen of sorts, with wasp maggots and other baby vermin lying about. Humans have been played with here too, and eaten after. Whoever made this place has an appetite for dragon meat and uses it to raise the young. The way out is to the east.
Great strands meet at this node, which shimmers and flickers in the ether. Flying creatures, insects, pegasi and dragon wormkin, pick their way through the web's dangerous passages. Strands run off to the north, east, south and west.
Here the web passes through the branches of a tree that has no business being this high. Leaves and debris the drones have not yet cleared lie caught in the strands. A playpen opens to the west, a limb runs north, and the center of the web is to the south.
From here all of Daleville can be seen far below, through gaps in the ethereal web. The larger dragons that wish to fly keep well away from these sticky strands. The center of the web is north; to the south the strands gather toward something grim.
This cloud is rather thick, and not a typical cloud at all: it is the nest of some aerial creature, woven of mist and silk. The tenuous strand is to the south.
This is another link in the ethereal web, and creatures of many kinds hang caught, or perhaps hypnotized, in its sticky strands. The center of the web is to the west; the strand runs on east.
Very windy here, for the strand climbs up into the open sky. Still, it is safe enough to move about. A cloud hangs to the north, a room is spun to the south, and the strand runs back west.
A more mature wormkin lives here. Tomes of arcane lore clutter the room, along with shards of armor and weaponry gnawed by young teeth. The strand is back to the north.
Once again the web crosses a tree limb. To the east is the entrance to another creature's lair, and the strands there are thick and torn. The way back is south.
This is the lair of a big game hunter among spiders. Crushed jewels and bitten weapons say its inhabitant has powerful jaws. Beware! The only way out is west.
This link of the ethereal web is spun differently from the rest, smooth and pale, and it hums faintly as if something holds it taut by magic. A chamber lies to the west; the quiet tree top is north.
Here is a quiet tree top, poking up through the bottom of the web. A heavy web runs east, and a slightly different-looking one runs south. A slippery strand leads straight down to a familiar path on the forest floor, though there would be no climbing back up it.
RRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAARR! The roar of a powerful beast, a dragon surely, shakes the strands, and one shivers while tiptoeing along this part of the web. It runs north to the entrance and on south toward the roar; a quiet tree top is to the west.
A wise ki-rin was entrapped here many years ago. It is from her that the ruler of this realm taps his magical strength.
This link of the web sags under some great weight, and the heavy breathing of a fiery animal comes from the south. The strand runs back north, and east to the grim heart of the web.
Yevaud, the Usurper of Daleville, resides here. A voice cries out, "BEWARE, the Usurper of Daleville lives here! FLEE while you can!" But even Yevaud has his master...or so you deduce.
This is where the strands of the ethereal web gather. A single spider line runs east toward a lonely light, ghastly shapes move to the south, and a strand runs west toward the dragon's breathing. Above, the grim entrance of Arachnos' Lair waits; the web's center is to the north.
A dark path at the end of the web strand leads east to a torchlit chamber, where the souls of unavenged adventurers come to gnash their teeth. The howls and screams of many echo along it. The strands gather back to the north.
A chair stands here for a tireless guardian who sees that no soul escapes. The room is undecorated. The realm of the hopeless lies east; the way back is west.
Here wander many misguided souls who think they still live. They search for those who killed them without warrant, and seek the free souls of the living, to inhabit them and perhaps adventure once more. The donjonkeep is to the east; the guardian's room is west.
No souls have ever lived in this place. The wails of slaves and the howls of wolves are the only sounds, and the walls are thin and wispy. The only light is the shimmer of the web strand that leads back west.
A single spider line stretches far out across the ether, and it sways underfoot. Ahead, a lone shack shows a light in its window, and a great evil seems to come from beyond it; one is inclined to turn back to the web, to the west, and take one's chances there.
Here is the evidence of a vagrant's dwelling: a cold pot, a bedroll and a stack of bones. The shack is to the east, if one dares enter it. The skies darken and roar with the laughter of thunder, and the sneaking feeling grows that one should go back west, now.
Mahatma, that silly thief, is here, and he steals everything you have. He says, "Here, have a quick trip to the Temple of Daleville." He plugs a black dagger into your back...
All strands inevitably lead here, to the center of the web and the entrance to Arachnos' Lair. A sticky chamber lies to the east, and the strands gather far below.
One can still bail out, by dropping down a strand onto the single spider line below, since one's knees are shaking from anticipation (or is it fear?). The strand here is surprisingly unsticky and does not vibrate like the others. A few ballooning spiders drift by, cackling, "You're gonna die, you're gonna fry. Good bye!" A great door is to the east.
Before you stands a large, weblike door. Ancient runes and the names of Daleville's heroes are etched into the webwork: perhaps a list of victims. The door is to the north; the sticky chamber is west.
This is the lair of the Empress Spider, Arachnos: a lavishly adorned rainbow web from whose magical strands she can reach any universe she wishes, the Prime Material Plane among them. Coffers upon coffers of gold, magical jewels and gems lie about. Unfortunately, Arachnos is a greedy spider too, and webs all her treasures to her beautiful silken body. The great door is to the south.