Peek: Through the Tangled Web

The threads vibrate and move into form... Existence.  A small spider, in a small room under some stairs.  A voice, muffled.  It can only try to weave its intention with imperfect tools and materials

Yes... the Weaver.  It has need of the unnamed spider, scion though he is.  He must work with the other scion to secure the Weaver's core.  He has been entrusted with its care, and he is greatly honored to do so.

The rat scion is quick, and once the spider has the core, the two are down in the basement in but moments.  The spider weaves a thick bulwark of silk around the core, and the rat scion brings a small section of wall over to help hide the invaluable treasure.  He accepts the material with gratitude, and soon the spider has it secured in place with more silk, the comforting orange glow of the Weaver's essence behind him.

As the days go by, he wonders if that is why he has grown so quickly.  He stayed as the last line of defense when the delver came, and though he never laid even a single eye upon the intruder, he could still feel the Weaver integrating the outsider into his complex web.

More scions, more threads to weave a complex tapestry.  Tiny, now named in an amusing bit of irony, sits in his new lair, not far from a node of mushrooms.  Not many invaders make it to the basement, which gives the small guardian time to appreciate the complexity of the masterpiece the Weaver is creating.

As with any proper web, the Weaver takes into consideration the surroundings.  While each spider may dream of the perfect angled spiral, their actual works must take into account reality.  Sticks may be in the way.  Prey may disturb the weaving.  But, instead of having to work around such difficulties, the Weaver seems to integrate them seamlessly into his creations, and Tiny feels he may be unique in being able to witness this small piece of wisdom.

Be like the very thread he weaves with.  It bends, moves, adapts to what challenges come.  Be too rigid, and you will simply break.  Plan too rigidly, and it will become a convoluted mess, instead of flowing around and with whatever the world throws at you.

His musings are interrupted by feet coming down the stairs to his domain.  Do the flies step into his parlor?  Perhaps... but the Weaver says they are not prey.  Tiny can almost see ephemeral legs plucking the young delvers up, spinnerets working to integrate them into the tapestry of the dungeon.

Tiny stays in his lair, and helps hold the swarm at bay.  They may understand the orders of the Weaver, but they are much simpler than the Guardian, and so they strain at their bonds.  Prey is so close...

The Weaver allows the small delvers to gather from the node, then loosens the leash.  Tiny makes his dramatic exit, taking his time and waving his legs more than needed.  A bit of theatrics is sometimes required with delvers, and he can feel the Weaver's approval for making a show of it.

The delvers flee and mana is gained for their rout, the Guardian having done his job.  And so he returns to his lair to think on the complexities of the Weaver's work.  He can see a new lair for himself soon, but he hardly needs to read the web for that.  His lair is growing cramped, and Tiny is simply growing.  He focuses on the new threads of those delvers, trying to divine their purpose in the tapestry.  The Weaver is anchoring them firmly... surely they will play a major part in what he's doing.