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On behalf of the Resistance: The Proposal of the Spiderwitch After the events of the previous two builds (here and here), the Spiderwitch, intent on winning the pumpkin pie contest, at long last decided to emerge from her darkened lair to pay a visit to Lord Raavage, the contest judge. The Lord of Darkness, Raavage himself, had left the towering edifice of the Black Spire to go visiting some of his other fortresses, and in late October decided to stop by the halls of Ereknydd Castle, home of General Skellek, the great Drow warleader. A great feast was held in Raavage's honor, with many guests invited, including some Hand members, dark dwarves, witches, and the odd goat-wolf-man. The wine flowed as freely as the tears of the Avalonian elf kept in the cage by Raavage's spiky throne. Suddenly, a loud knock on the doors of the great hall echoed through the chamber. The massive portals swung open, revealing a quartet of low orcs bearing a giant, delicious-smelling pumpkin pie on a bier. After depositing their burden on the table the orcs left in a hurry, leaving the doors open in their haste. A silence hung through the hall as all of the guests smelling the savory scents began to salivate. Suddenly, out of the pie, burst the figure of a woman, all blue and scantily clad with seductive head tails dangling behind her. She emerged from the pie and began dancing her way towards the steps and the throne of Lord Raavage. Raavage, entranced by her beauty, stood to greet her, meeting her halfway. While everyone was enraptured by the woman, a mysterious form, the Spiderwitch herself, crept into the hall and began to descend from the high rafters. She plopped her hairy black body down beside the throne of the Lord of Nocturnus, who was startled by her sudden presence and leapt back into the seat he had vacated when the blue woman had approached him. The seductress was standing calmly on the steps, waiting for the business of the witch to finish. The guests all eagerly watched to see what might happen next. A stillness hung over the hall as the Spiderwitch and the Lord stared at each other, wits matched in a mental game of chess. Finally the Spiderwitch smiled broadly and gestured at the pie and the woman. "Eat your fill, My Lord, it is all yours," she said. "And when you are finished with both, I shall be waiting for you in your chambers. You see, it has been many years now since my husband died, and I have been so very, very lonely at night, needing the strong embrace of a powerful and virile man. Will you marry me, Lord Raavage?" "What if I say no?" asked Raavage, a hint of nerves appearing in his voice for the first time as he pulled back from the many hairy spider legs. "You have two choices, My Lord," replied the Spiderwitch. "Either award me victory for my pie, or be my husband. Of course, I would prefer both..." The End. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ ........................................................................................................................................................................................ The build with no figures: Thanks for looking! C&C welcome! -
A Build on behalf of the Resistance: The Spiderwitch Although some part of her history has already been related here, it behooves us in this post to delve a bit deeper into the past of the Spiderwitch using the lovely, and deliriously intoxicating, power of authorial omniscience. It is true that very little is known about her by the outside world, save the rumors that fly faster than her six spider legs and two human arms can pursue, and it is also true that no one has ever come out of her labyrinthine lairs yet living. But it is furthermore true that there are many undead and semidead and other post-death individuals roaming Nocturnus, and, given the number of deaths she has caused, it is no surprise that at least some of those individuals are her victims. However, their accounts are notoriously unreliable, and so I, the author, am going to give you, the reader, a behind-the-scenes look at the best pie baker in all the land. First, it should be noted that even some things are unknown by even the most learned authors, such as the identities of the Spiderwitch's mother and father. However, it does not take much learning to speculate that her mother was likely related to that ancient and noble line of giant female spiders, those of treelight-sucking and high pass-dwelling fame, and her father, well, since they are spiders, her father was likely her mother's first dinner-date. The Spiderwitch herself has a name, though she does not like it to be spoken out loud, as Maybelle is just not intimidating enough for the most powerful arachno-human magic user--and best pumpkin pie baker--this side of the Rakaths. She only tells that to a man on the second date, and, well, that has never happened. But how did she become such a powerful mage? And where did she get her baking skills? Well, let me tell you. Once, long ago, when Maybelle was very small, merely giant tarantula sized, she was crawling around an enchanted pumpkin patch at night, waiting for the spirit of the Great Pumpkin to come and bless her with many toys and other gifts (the Iron Maiden was very popular that year). The full moon was just rising over the dark treetops of the murky wood when a coven of witches came swooping down from the sky, cackling on their brooms. Maybelle hid herself behind the largest of the pumpkins and listened to the conversation of the old hags. They talked of many things, but what they spoke of most was the Great Pumpkin, the most potent deity of those parts. But they were not venerating him, as would be proper for a deity; but instead they were saying that he was such a pumpkin head, a useless old gourd, a puffed up, over-important squash, and other things unfit to repeat in even unpolite company. Maybelle could scarcely believe her ears. She rushed out from behind her pumpkin and told those witches off, explaining how the Great Pumpkin was the greatest of all the vegetable gods and the most loving, beneficent, orange colored-object ever to have existed. Now, did those witches start laughing at that! A small arachno-human telling them, full-grown witches, what to believe and how to act! The very idea of it all brought them to tears of mirth. Maybelle was embarrassed at their laughter, but adamant in her defense of the Great Pumpkin; and so the witches took out their willow wands and began a long and complex incantation, dancing and singing their way through the patch. But just before they were to say the final words of their spell, something unexpected and amazing happened. The large pumpkin, upon which Maybelle was sitting, suddenly began to float up into the air and grow many times larger, glowing so orange that orange no longer even applies, oranger than any fruit or vegetable could ever be, oranger even than the politicians and celebrities down in the big city. It was the Great Pumpkin! He had heard her prayers and was coming to bless her! What joy of joys, night of nights! The witches shrieked, as only witches can, and tried to hop on their brooms and fly off; but the Pumpkin of pumpkins caught them in one of his outstretched vines and reeled them back in. He was shaking with rage, as Maybelle could feel beneath her many feet, and in one powerful curse he caused the whole coven to disappear. Maybelle, however, began to grow larger herself, and could feel some new power coursing through her limbs that had never been there before. And the Great Pumpkin said to her: "My faithful servant, you shall be given the key to many new things, but none so great as the nature of pumpkin-ness, an insight into my very soul. You shall be a mighty sorceress, with the power of thirty witches inside your hairy abdomen, unmatched by any other of your kind. And you shall have my love, my sweet Maybelle." Maybelle heard and was overjoyed. She remained all that night and the next, and an entire week, in the tender embrace of the Great Pumpkin, and at the end of the week she cooked him into a pie and ate him. Now she has the power of thirty witches and the Great Pumpkin within her, and no one can ever create a pumpkin pie better than hers, who knows everything, and I mean everything, in every way, about pumpkins. _________________________________________________________________________ .................................................................................................................................................. Thanks for looking! C&C welcome.
