A world writ small

In the land of spiders there are 3 gods.

The elder who ignores our presence unless his divine eyes finds us in the world. Then, he smites us with fury. Often leaving us for dead while we crawl crippled from the field to die quietly in the hidden web we dared from. If you are quick, if you are stealthy you may pass him by and find the darkness of the dormant fire pit or the loud warm corner where you may feast. Where you may live your days without sorrow.

His is a land of harsh truth coupled with blind anger. Be wary and quick.

The next is the Youngling. Named spider friend whose domain is filled with untouched nooks and crannies. He welcomes and speaks in the tongue of the gods, which we know not. We can feel his benevolence but be warned. If you ascend into his spaces, while he will attempt to move you from that place without harm, still he is a god. And when gods intervene, often we die. Though he may attempt to save, his will is so much greater than our own. And we will quail back, into the danger he attempts to save us from or he may fail and we are crushed under the harsh weight of kindness. And while his spaces are safe, be warned. His are not the only legs which walk there.

This brings us to the Doom. The elder queen who breaks us. Whose baleful sight heralds our death. Whose poison spreads to our food and who kills us in turn. She destroys our webs. Destroys our bodies. Destroys our clutches. She is Death and the doom of worlds. The younger will attempt to intercede, and you must be quick like the harsh wind, for she is the stronger and he will fail. But with that bit of time we may still live.

Thus are the gods of Death, Time, and Nature. Their domain is one of shelter but of the truth of cruelty in the world. Nature nourishes and aids, but it is at times destruction. Time kills slowly but often on swift wings. And Death waits above all, a force without reason or mercy.

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