My troops are glorious! They all must work together, but they are only an extension of myself. I can see them dispersing under my orders. The enemy troops depend on numbers—the more they are, the more they will overwhelm us (or so they think). What that stupid goddess does not know is that we spiders are powerful, varied, and lethal. She will not know what hit her.
The first are some bugs. I don't even need to give them orders. The lesser hunters—small spiders the size of dogs—are enough to hunt these bugs. It is important that it be them. They have incubation periods of days; their eggs have already hatched, and their young accompany them. Their voracity, their growth capacity—I would say magical—will provide us with melee troops in the future.
Next are the simple beasts—the size of the elves I consumed, slow beings with multiple limbs, all just tiny samples of the power of what is to come. The brown long-legs will trap them. Each can inject acid in amounts bordering on limitless. That will undo tissues and feed their young, which are not very helpful but will eat nonstop, sinking their fangs into everything, thus delaying my enemy.
By the time the ferocious troops arrive, I am prepared. I do not like the Crystal Plains for an ambush; they limit what my girls can do. So I am luring them a few kilometers away, where a not very imposing mountain begins the mountain range that has as its crown my future kingdom. After I acquire this power, it will not cost me much to eliminate those stupid dwarves, or perhaps make them my subjects... I don't know what a dwarf tastes like; perhaps it wouldn't be bad. But they are already coming—a black, enormous wave that darkens the horizon. I tell my girls to calm down; it is not yet time to be afraid. I have been planning this, and it will go well.
The largest block encounters the threads of the queen spiders. These weave large; they are not interested in catching human-sized animals. They are strong; their prey is generally elephants, antelopes, cattle. One of them says she ate a bull-man. But they trap the large ones—meat worms; they are nothing. The queen spiders immobilize them with a few threads and begin to eat. The medium ones look a bit like wolves, dogs, deer—all black and about to become unrecognizable. They are food for my friends the brown tunnelers. They have dug hundreds of graves in the ground; each captures its victim and consumes it. I am not afraid of them getting full—they all come with their progeny, as voracious as they are. They will not fill up with one or two victims and will consume whatever approaches them.
Finally, some of our rivals arrive past the edges. There are the warriors. These eat with great slowness but hunt brutally. Pieces of flying enemies are all I see. They chew but do not swallow. Their young do the same—one destroys logs and skulls, the others fingers and arms. The girls eat and grow. The older ones are always furious, lashing out at everyone, but that makes them ideal for reinforcing my defenses.
When my front troops tire, I send in the fresh ones. These are spitters. Their venom dyes all the webs purple. This drips, paralyzing those who pass under these hard threads that none of the larger troops could break. There, pieces of abominations and things resembling pack beasts with claws and horns hang uselessly, while the scavenger groups gather on top of everyone, devouring, enjoying the banquet I promised them.
Things at night are no different. My spider offspring can see in the dark, so I send them out. I direct my forces at night, preventing them from eating, hunting, grouping. I can see them all. It seems strange to me that there are so few. The enormous wave is still visible, but it does not impress me. We stopped them today. My people are full and happy. I do not expect their goddess to understand, but my daughters are exceptional—we can overcome anything.
It is dawn. I am sure, because sleep clings to my consciousness and my eyes are slow to focus. All my troops smell of fear. Despair spreads everywhere. I fix my gaze, and several of my lookouts are dead. I send my troops to extend their webs—we must defend the territory. Our outposts should have informed us of such an attack... a full-scale assault! The enemies rush in from all sides! It is impossible! No one should have gotten past us. I look for my sentinels—they are all being devoured without a fight. No, something is wrong here! I see them, damn it! Little filth that brings nightmares and paralyzes enemies. I send for the fishermen spiders. I indicate where to shoot, and they launch thin, resistant, flexible webs. I catch a hundred of those filth, bring them to the center of the camp—there, they are consumed. But I lost the offensive... I must regain it.
My daughters' children are hungry. Many enemy troops are still there, trapped, waiting for someone to free them. So I send my little ones—with a good diet, they will be large enough to be a threat in two days. For now, they will only clean the webs. At least I have regained some control. The warriors defend the pass; the rest are reorganizing the defense. They all communicate their losses to me. They were great, but nothing we cannot face.
My babies are dying again. What is happening? I search where the lights of my army are extinguished. Now it is where the ground-level spiders kill and die. The eggs of their children are consumed by the enemy. They are resistant eggs; upon breaking, the young can eat from within. There they are falling. I use one of the queens to check. There are some horrendous bugs there—from their short pig snouts, green vapor comes out. It is poison! I withdraw my dwindling troops and send in the queens. Their height and the fact that the poison does not touch their bellies make them ideal for the task of eliminating those aberrations. But my troops keep dying. While I gave orders, three of the five armies were stationed less than two kilometers away. I have already given the order, and several regiments from the mountains are coming here. Just in time, because the horizon remains its traditional color—a black of bad omens. But I will not give up. Your power is mine, princess!
After two weeks, I must say we are defeated. The enemies kept coming to the point where my troops only held them back, but more web was consumed than could be produced. All were exhausted. But when I turned, there I saw more of their troops. They must have surrounded us. I have to escape, but I cannot—I might lose the rest of my troops. I give the evacuation order, but the enemies keep coming. These look fresh, unlike mine—even the reinforcement troops are like a glass of water in a fire. At that moment, I see the giants—impossible beings, enormous as elephants, but with maces and axes. They engage the queens. The queens do not know it, but they have no salvation. There are four for each of mine—exhausted and with no reinforcement troops, they are only walking fortresses, waiting for someone to point out where their life is going... I must escape!
The cave is deep. As I enter, I begin to weave my defense—thin, resistant threads that cover the entire cave, giving the impression that I am alone... Whose voice is that?
"You are alone, small, stupid creature. Your power was your friends. You killed them—did you know that? With no one to tell them their movements, they followed their primary impulses and jumped on each other and on the enemy. The young were tasty."
I told her she could go to hell, that my people would rise, that they would come for me. In the future, the great Arach would not doubt my power.
"Is that all? Empty threats inside your voice, little being. You are not a god or an avatar—just a selfish being. You expected it to always work. But more than half the spider population perished tonight. Your elves will not return for you—consumed by my forces or freed from your hand... Stupid spider! You messed with Morgana! I am queen of the Chaos Marks! You will live here. You have no reason to leave. You will be a prisoner of your webs—or until I feel like it... useless."
I summon my spiders, but only silence answers me. I tell them to hide, to reproduce. A hollow of millions of lost lives is all that remains. I try to speak with the Drown soldiers, but only those in the cave answer me—lost or not. My forces are no longer there. Hidden here, I have nothing left but to wait... for the Lich's help, for the Drown's help, for someone. I am not queen of the spiders—I was their executioner. Damn Dead King! Damn chaos avatar! Damn my arrogance!