"...but don't you think we should have a look for that spider problem?"
Reuken slows and stops, turning to look towards the inner compound of the Flaming Fist headquarters, and the gaggle of itinerants within. He keeps his ears pricked, listening. While something as banal as spider infestations did not bother him--he preferred to adopt the practice of "live and let live" when not related to him--the rumours regarding periodic giant spider infestations gave him pause. Judging from the worried and hushed tones he heard of spiders invading houses, and the bounty offered by the local Flaming Fist, he surmised that this was no normal infestation.
He glanced up at the sky, wondering if the Lone Wolf set him on this course for that reason. Despite not knowing if it was true or not, he felt a little prick at his pride nonetheless.
"We've been waiting to hear something," an old woman's voice replied, and in his mind, Reuken shook his head.
Times must be difficult in the Sword Coast for the elders to hunt spiders, he mused, but kept his ears erect and listened.
"If the Giant Spiders have found their way into the city, it's a distinct possibility they may be coming from the Underdark," a man's voice remarked, and Reuken can't help but lift his eyebrows. "That means a tunnel, or a passage somewhere. That means potential Drow invaders. Not saying the Fist aren't doing their jobs, but..."
"I thought there were spiders all over the city," another voice piped up, summarising the man's thoughts in a more tactful way.
"Well, I've learned to always expect the worst and hope for the best," came the reply.
Even for your perspective, Reuken thought,
you sound as if you have never regarded the existence of large spiders in your life. The possibility of dhaerow is distant enough even for the worst. He glanced to the side as a large, armoured man brushed by him to join the others milling about.
I suppose such a suggestion would have merit, nonetheless.
"I did not expect to see so many well-armed warriors to show up for a few spiders," that old woman's voice remarked, and he had to agree. A carnival of idiocy, he decided, and with a snort, he turned to walk off.
--
After a moment of taking in the buzz of the city, Reuken was left with the urge to travel somewhere quieter, and the vindication that the adventurers reflected the city as a whole in sensibility and wit. Unfortunately, some of the people he would rather ignore were paying well to perform simple tasks, and to his dismay, the money he thought sufficient to survive proved inadequate in the face of the prices demanded for simple living necessities. Thus it was in the process of retrieving an aggrieved upper-class citizen's ring for filthy lucre that the man found himself trawling in the fetid, sludgy muck of the sewers below the eastern district.
His eyes traced along the moist stone passageways, breathing as lightly as possible to mitigate the stench offending his nostrils. The heavy weight of his swords hanging by his right hip were small comfort in the face of skittering echoing down the tunnels, far beyond even his enhanced eyesight. He clasped the hilt of his blade as he rounded a corner.
Sudden loud skittering was the only warning he got before seeing a quartet of massive, hulking spiders clamber from the gloom-shrouded passageway to his left, beady eyes gleaming and mandibles clacking with murderous intent. With a grimace, Reuken retreated, loosening the hilt of his blade and drawing it free, its silver blade shining off the distant torchlight, and backed himself into the adjacent wall, holding his blade with both hands, aimed for his imminent foes. The spiders paused and clicked angrily, but had no choice save to face him should they attack. And attack they did.
The fight was long and brutal. Fangs and steel gleamed, and Reuken swung his blade with both hands, hacking at whatever he could reach. Sometimes his swings skittered off hard carapace, but more often they struck true, piercing the vulnerable joints or the thin flesh of their bloated undersides. Bilious fluid mingled with the muck already present and clung to the grim-faced man as he chopped what he could reach. Blood flowed where the spiders' fangs and claws pierced his defenses, and his right arm was a mess of red and white as his own blood mixed with that of his foes. A burning feeling settled in his flesh, spreading from his wounds, and he grimaced at the feel of poison.
Finally, the last of the spiders lay in a twitching heap on the floor, quickly stilled as Reuken's boot crunched down on its head. He scraped his boot over a patch of filthy cloth discarded off to the side and looked over the corpses, ears pricked. He could hear more spiders skittering and scurrying out of eyeshot, followed by the occasional anguished wail of some sewer denizen falling prey to the roaming, unnatural predators.
With a grunt, he knelt to carve the mandibles from the spider's crushed head, and turned to do the same for the others. They will suffice as proof for the Fist.
A moment later, with four sets of mandibles hanging from his belt, Reuken continued on his way, ears pricked, silver sword at the ready.
