A Meeting with an Arch-Arachnid [Plot/Private/8]

"Dear Mr.8,
We're delighted to inform you after seeing some detailing of your works me and some of my fellow colleagues have decided we would be delighted to make your acquaintance. I am what is known as the Head Tarantula. I'm certain you've heard of our group, and of our influence, as with our line of work I'm certain you've met or worked with people in our forces. As such an influential figure I'd like to see your potential, and possibly introduce you to the Grand Spider.

Before I can possibly give you more info I'd love to invite you to a little soiree. Go the wealthy housing district or Remano, and go to the manor of the Latinus family on the coming eve of the summer hare moon. You will wear the mask provided for you with the letter. The only reason for this is well, the host loves a theme party. The theme he gave the guests is poetic, like a true wealthy elite he's trying to seem eloquent in some way but I digress.

Once arriving to the party, present them this letter, showing them my seal on the bottom indicating that you're a guest of mine. Bring no weapons or beasts, but you may bring "wares" as a gift but I shouldn't have to tell you to no shackle them in any way as Reim as been quite rough to our kind these past few years.

I'll be wandering around the party, likely in the back showroom avoiding most of the partying nobels but feel free to enjoy yourself before coming to find me, we have a whole night to discuss. I'll be wearing a Swan Mask and a yellow sash to indicate who I am. I am excited and hope that you come to the party so we can work together towards a future."



That is what the letter that would arrive upon the slaver's hands would detail. A couple of days ago this should've arrived upon him in good faith, that is if he were resting his head consistently instead of working. Carried by an albino ferret the letter would be rolled up with a velvet string and a wax seal of what appeared to be the crest of an orange tree and curled up around it. Either way once the letter had reached him he would only have so much time to prepare for the party night.

---

As the night would come upon the liveliness on these streets of Reim would seem more than the day in this part of Remano. It truly was a gathering of some of the most prominent of Elite in the country. Plenty was sorted out into what looked like the manor grounds as. As a long pathway with decorated, and sculpted flower bushes, marble statues, and fountains adorned the path. The crowds hiding the most of the spectacle as the washed over the scenery, drinking, dancing, and enjoying the party that kept most of the guests outside of the actual building.

Enticing the guests outside, and leading those who knew the parties' true goals inside, were musicians of all kinds. Lining up the house as the sounds of lyres and drums, flutes and lutes, different bands to get the overwhelming crowd in the party mood. It seemed there were plenty taking advantage of the party, and weren't the true guests. As only a few select few wore masks outside, those who were surrounded by mobs grinding on them, or the attendants who walked around keeping those in line with plenty of different intoxicants.

"Anything you see that you like sir?" the smell of roasted lamb curl into 8's nose. As it would guide his face to the plater presented in front of his face, held by one of the canary masked attendees. Along with it was a packed pipe of opium, some other rolled flower, alcohol, and assorted mushrooms. "Feel free to pick your poison sir or just enjoy a light snack, as one of the chosen guests please present your letter at the house gate if you wish you make it further inside."

The path would twist and turn to pass the various ornaments that seemed to endless line the path in variation in theme. Up towards the manor, they would see the crowd bottlenecking the door as men in cyclops masks.

"No one goes any further without the proper seal." boomed the bouncer's voice as it pushed pass a clearly drunken, and possibly high teen who was trying to see what was happening with the parties elite. Before even getting inside it seemed like there were multiple layers to this party, there was still the navigation to come inside of the massive house, which seemed too large to even be considered such. And as he approached he too would be stopped before he could go any further.

Barred by arms from both guards they would look down at him as the one on the right would ask him, as his head bobbed up and down examining his mask. Outward his voice questioned with a gravely monotone voice "Do you have the proper identification in order to proceed further into the party's inner sanctum, and if you present it are you prepared for whats inside?"

The words echoed while he mentally reviewed the scrolls, deciphering what it had included. Evidently, it was from the Black Spiders, a group whom he had dealt with in the past, but only at the outermost levels. While the people he had spoken to were of low caliber, Eight could surmise the people doing the work with the slaves must have had some great talent. The person who had reached out to him was the 'Head Tarantula' and would be wearing a swan mask, with a yellow sash, likely located in a back room of the venue. However, his long-term goal was to meet a 'Grand Spider'.

While there was no obligation of wares, it would only be to his benefit if he flaunted his ability. Eight rolled up the scroll and slipped it beneath the first layer of his top for safe keeping, making sure to keep the seal in tact. His digits stroked through the pale fur of the vermin, lifting the mask off of its back. Glancing over it, and looking at the interior to inspect the quality. Lifting it before his face, resting it against his cheeks there was a chain to help it rest on his ears. It was a blank canvas in every sense of the word, but it was a thin piece of solid gold with a matching chain. As he pulled off the mask, the ferret had disappeared into the night.

---

The following morning, Eight had a bounce in his step as he visited the merchant stalls. Quickly inspecting the wares of jewelers, particularly interested in their goldsmithing. He pulled out his nightmare pendant, "I need you to make this mask look like this, and for it to rest against my face without any assistance." He removed a now detached gold chain, offering it as payment. Eight explicitly told him that secrecy was of the utmost importance to him, putting an emphasis on it, but not enough to put fear into the man.

---

Later that night, he dressed himself as a common thief; dark, loose clothing. Eight knew exactly what he was in the market for. He needed to find someone with a lot to lose. While he was waiting for hours, occasionally relocating to a different dank alley or poorly lit corner.


It was a single mother and her child, likely returning home from a night of work at a brothel, because not many people would risk being out at this hour with their children unless it was necessary. Eight's gaze intensified as they neared the alleyway he skulked in. Like an underhanded predatory, he slid out of the darkness in a flash that the mother didn't even realize what happened.

Eight's hand came across the child's temple like a hammer, knocking him out instantly. Before the child dropped, the slaver grasped the woman's wrist, and lifted his leg. *Thud. He put his heel into the boys neck. "Shut up or I'll kill the child." The woman turned as she was grasped, but it took her a few seconds to process what was going on. The mother almost uttered a scream afterwards, but she swallowed back her instinct fearing for her child's life. Eight contorted the woman's arm behind her like a chicken wing, pinning her against the walls, locking manacles around her wrists and a collar around her neck, bringing her to a lightless underground storage area that he was renting. He managed to make it comfortable, locking it before leaving for the night.

---

In the morning he picked up his redesigned mask that lay against his face perfectly, matching his necklace somewhat making it easier for him to slip the magic tool for his safety.  Eight also purchased gourmet food, chum, make up, perfume and a female performer's attire.

Mask:

Eight returned to his prisoners, and freed their chains around their wrists, leaving a slim, leather collar on the mother. He bargained with the mother, saying as long as she followed orders, he would stay alive and be treated well. Giving him a steaming steak with mashed potatoes on a plate, but also leaving a pail of chum in the corner of the room to demonstrate the alternative.

The mother, Sasha, fell in line rather quick, and had enough experience dealing with people, but with all the dressings of make up, perfume and silk, it was as if she transformed into a different person. While she wasn't actively training, their was a deadness in her eyes, but during her training she was completely on point, training each day until the night of the meeting.

Sasha:

---

The mingling of instruments filled the air, adding to the occasion's ambience. Minstrels and bards greeted the guest and his plus one. Eight stood tall in formalwear that matched the events standards. He had a timepiece on his wrist, a couple of rings adorned on his digits and his pumpkin necklace around his throat. His hair was slicked back, the sides of his hair with a skin tight taper. His attire was accentuated by his posture and his walk. Latched to his right arm, was the recently enslaved Sasha. Her curling, brown hair, bouncing and reaching to her shoulders. The mothers waist was complimented by her bottomwear; silky, white cotton pants that rested  on her hips. Her top was crimson silk, that covered her like a shawl, exposing her midriff. She wore bangles at her wrists and ankles, and an inky, skin tight, leather collar around her neck.

As trays passed by, Eight helped himself to a pipe, taking a glass of wine for his servant. The help behind the canary mask even lit it for him and gave a full body bow while balancing the tray perfectly before trapezing to other guests who decided to be fashionably late. The puff helped ease his tensions and allay his concerns.

At the threshold, there was a gatekeeper impeding him. "This should answer all your questions." Speaking clear and firmly over the music and rabblerousing, simultaneously, producing the scroll from a breast pocket in his coat, showing the guard the seal. This moment let him get a small taste of the night to come.

Nightmare Pumpkin:

Buh dunn bun dun dunn dunee dune duneee~ Chsh chsh chsh chs chs ba ba ba BUM CHRASSSSHHH!!!

The sounds of strings, dancing beads, drums, and shaking cymbals enveloped the air. The red silk current did more than just reveal the sounds of the party. As the slaver would pass the threshold he would arrive at the true party, his party. Wealthy elite hid by the guises of their masks. Snickers and smirks lining their faces, that is whatever parts could be seen. His presence upon entering seemed to have no impact on them, as they continued at their games and front at the forefront of the manor.

Almost as if being the beacon people encircled dancing in their groups, around the chandelier that was hanging from above. The white marble floors would clatter with the messy steps of drunk nobles and slaves being tugged on chains. In Reim where slavery was illegal, this hidden, opulent wealth that was at the heart of the city tried to ignore their laws, to enjoy their toys. With the majority playing with each other there plenty of guests that scattered across the room.

Near the walls, where crimson and blush red sashes with holding lacing formed looped patterns tracing across the ceiling to drape down the sides. With the circular manor ballroom, there were 6 in total, with two ends on each, forming like the face of a clock above. And the host seemed to enjoy matching, as the table clothes which held the refreshments and delicacies for the party held the same color as the drapes. It didn't help that most of the color was covered witch expensive wines, ales or meads, even some drinks imported from Kou, while the snack tables held anything from miniature beef balls with a red wine sauce, sausages, pork dumplings from Kou and kebab from Balbadd. Some had some more strange choices, like those of nude bodies plastered on tables, unmoving as they were covered with all sorts of foods, there seeming to be two men and two women.

With a closer look, there would be more that could be noticed if one didn't rush towards the back of the ballroom. Most kept them hidden well, some peeking just a bit past their clothes, it seemed most of the people here carried the insignia of the black spiders on their bodies. Their web did really manage to stretch further each time someone tried to crush them, the destruction of their obvious opposition allowed them to plant more roots into the bed of Reim, and this was the festering den of them.

8 had time to enjoy the party, to try and talk to someone of the figures that littered the room. Either way, it seemed a path was also clear straight towards back room, where another curtain stood hiding whatever hid behind. It was odd, even the side rooms, or the stair leading up past the room, into more of the house, seemed to emanate noise. Every room except the one in which he was supposed to go into. In the time he would have to make a decision however, the guests would begin enjoying their further entertainment.

"ARE YOU READY TO LOSE CONTROL???" A voice would boom up as a man, in the mask of a turquoise caterpillar would leap up upon the steps, standing at their top. His energetic, deep, an almost announcer-Esque voice would garner the attention into is room. It seemed like besides the wares people were leading to the back, this was the main attraction for many of those who were here, for the broodlings.

With a big puff, he put is his pipes to his lips, he seemed to mutter something before waving the object in a circle around the smoke cloud which would trickle from his lips. Streaming around the smoke would flow outward, carrying a light pink hue it trailed around, swirling around the noses and heads of the party guests as it would gather and meet in the center. The smoke tangoed, the arms grabbing and branching into each other until it formed the image of women dancing in the air. Her gracefully moves, leaped down, dancing among the crowd. It's wispy hands softly caressing those who got close enough, it was more than a show it was a truly magical high.

While the furtherly intoxicated guests would watch their women skip into the air, dipping into the shape of a smoke spider, the guest of honor would have to make his own choices if he wished to indulge. There was no rush on business, yet it also felt like someone could get lost in energy. Whose manor was this even, all he knew was this was a manor of some Reimain Elite.

Stowing away the letter back into his coat, Eight guided Sasha into the merriment. The mother who had experienced such wanton displays couldn't help but blush, burying her face into her masters arm. Eight gave his arms a firm snap as he adjusted the collar of his attire, still looking ahead at the scene. This brought the slave back into a more composed fashion, but she was still overhwlemed in front of the oppulence and depravity. Her hands were trembling as she downed the rest of her wine before slamming it on the tray of a passing servant.

Eight, on the other hand, looked to his left and right, taking a moment to viewing the room so he could feel completely confident within his surroundings. Then gazing towards the center and observing the people when the chandelier caught his eye.

Surprised with the sudden performance, Eight's face lit up, and his feet were thumping in tune .As the dancing began, he looked at his slave and invited her to dance. She tried to say no, but after a single glare, Sasha swallowed her hesitation and joined him for a dance. Eight grasped at the nape of her exposed back, bringing their chests close together. Eyes meeting across a height disparity. Starting slowly, his steps were exaggerated and long, allowing the woman to process and follow his lead. The steps became more fluid, quickening their moves. Eyes locked and smiles on their faces, even a few of the nearby patrons took notice, and while the music came to a lull  Eight was near the center of the room, with a hint of perspiration across his face.

Eight shoved past other patrons, leading Sasha and got out of center stage, looking for some refreshments for the pair. His eys glanced over his property repeatedly. Across her face was a genuine smile, it had seemed as if the dance had helped settle her nerves. Eight brought her to a table full of Balbadi food, offering her a single skewer.

The woman was salivating at the scent and appetizing view. The quality of the meat was obvious to anyone. She took a bite of the first cube from the side and then just slipped the piece off the pole. Eight taken out a pocket square and wiped the savory juices off the corner of her lips, looking at her with disgust for her improper manners. As she munched, a bit more carefully now, Eight obtained a pair of chopsticks off the table and sampled some dumplings from a bowl on one of the bare gentleman, whom remained expressionless. 'Well taught.'

The slaver began to watch his company, noticing the room was overwhelmingly full of Black Spiders members. Finally his eyes were drawn to a back room behind the curtain, the deafening silence made it an obviously choice but there was still so much to explore and understand here.

As he was deciding on his next course of action, a gentleman stood at the apex of the stairs with a rousing control of the ballroom. His first reaction was to pull out the pipe and take a puff of the opium. The smoke show was quite interesting, unsure if the intoxication was the primary factor, or perhaps some sort of magical tool.

Eight was willing to indulge in the festivities, but he wanted to meet the man behind the Turquiose Catepillar facade before he got down to business. Sasha was still vaguely entranced by the blush-colored fog, but she could still function. Eight made his way to the stairs in a slow manner, Sasha in tow.

The veil of smoke could felt as one tried to wade their way through the room. With each step, the volume would seem to increase, from a gentle brush to the resistance of rushing water. It was more and more obvious the smoke was magical in nature as it seemed to enrapture the guests who took in time basking in it. The smoke dance trailed in the image crafted by the man in the mask, who averted his eyes towards their corners. Breaking the pipe free from his lips, letting the dance continue as it seemed most were getting caught up in its effects. Besides, as he scanned the approaching man and women it seemed neither one of them were spiders, at least from first glance, Which meant they were initiated or patrons, but based on the women clinging he had his suspicions of which category he fell into.

Upon closer look 8 would be able to notice the spider that seemed be hiding on his right hip side, slightly covered by a teal sash tied around his waist. Gems dotted his clothes as gold and silver draped from his body to further accentuate the opulence of his look. There were no other tools on his personage besides the smoke pipe which seemed to be weaving the magic. It was entrancing, its sweet, smoky, almost citrus-like smell, similar to oranges, beckoning people closer. It was a good high, it would help lift him off his feet a little but it did feel a bit much as if it was starting to rush in more if the slaver breathed too deeply.

"My Name is Absalon, I'm but the entertainment but it seems you maybe looking for my partner." The masked man would speak gently, his eyes scanning the crowd as he tried to keep up the performance somewhat. "Be careful inhaling this stuff by the way darling, its fun but you might wake up on a chandelier. I can answer any questions but it is best to keep moving." Absalon would say quickly getting to the point, he was only the performer for this special affair, so he could answer questions and indulge a little.

It wouldn't be much to walk down the steps, which appeared as if they were beginning to stretch for miles as if the room were lifting. As the walls began to spin, pounding as if the building itself were breathing. The room was expanding and contracting, how was everyone having such a good time? They could be ejected out of the building at any moment, and what about the pounding noise. Sasha would certainly feel this things from intaking such heavy amounts of smoke, one needed time to breathe after all. All they had to was make it through the way of a bad trip if they didn't fight it. That wasn't the worst part yet, they'd also be confronted with their own personal anxieties. There was plenty of chance for reflection, but this wasn't a search for a mirror, it was a journey to the curtains below.

The mixture of mundane and magical substances were beginning to affect him. Feeling as if he were wading through a cloud of cotton candy that became harder to navigate through. Eight was supporting himself against the rails and keeping Sasha on her feet, who was nearly stumbling having to catch her footing every other step. The slave giggling at her own clumsiness.

Eight managing to keep his full composure, thanks to his experience with hard drugs and these high-level events. He bowed his head to Absalon as the Spider introduced himself, an intoxicated Sasha, somehow, managed a poor excuse for a curtsey. "I'm Eight, and I do believe I am here to meet your friend. He said he was wearing a Swan mask. Absalon, could you tell me his name and where to find him? I am curious if there are any other important people to meet here, because I do believe I have been blessed with the fortune of meeting you." Eight looked at the pipe, wondering what it might take to secure such a treasure. The euphoria alone would be worth some money to him.

Eight had chosen his words to reaffirm the information he had received in the letter, while leaving the Spider some room to throw in addition information, typical crafted speech from the cautious slaver. Flattering the entertainer, perhaps he would willingly divulge more information of any pertinent guests of his own volition, while not having his suspicions provoked. Simple Sasha was entranced by the dresses and suits of other guests and patrons during the greeting, still unaccustomed to the feelings whelling inside her body.

Eight would stay for the Spiders response and then signalling Sasha that she was to give proper farewells to the gentleman.  The slave's eyes widened, having nearly forgotten she was essentially on a job that could determine the fate of her sons life. She put a palm on the man chest to support herself, as her bosom pressed into the stranger, placing her lips on the Spiders cheek, whispering gratitude into his ear. Eight offered a handshake to the Spider before descending down the stairs, debating if he should meet the Swan mask now.

Sasha began sweating profusely, her mind was overwhelmed with the thought of her son being subjected to a live of slavery, or even worse death. The slave almost felt her throat closing up, her nerves were unravelling down the short walk down the stairs, which felt like an hour.

Eight was equally in shock. His breathing was heavy, and began sprinting down the ever stretching down the stairs, as panic set in. Looking for a temporary repreive from his thoughts. He had just remembered he was technically an escaped slave. Finally reaching the end of the stairs, he raised his voice to one of the staff, seeking a "bathroomr", an uncharacteristic term for the facade he was portraying. Sasha was bewildered but stayed at the bottom the stairs, twiddling his her fingers. Eight entered the bathroom, breaking down in tears. Hyperventilating, falling to his knees by the toilet. As he remembered some of the abuse, his body HURLED all the toxins alongside his dinner. Tears seeping from the corner of his eyes. Eight was temporarily out of commission, but slowly regaining himself.

Absalon eyed the young man as the intoxicants seemed to heavily seep into his soul. It was almost playfully adorable but almost worrisome if he got himself lost. However this wasn't a pet for the performer, this was a guest who was looking to join their den, so it was truly best that he found his way. The magician would lower the pipe to his side giving him a quick look before speaking gently to him.

"Just next to the stairs on the right there's a red silk curtain, behind there you'll find the man in the swan mask. He's a rather interesting Patron, he won't lie but don't let his act fool you, he's a master of deceit." The almost oddly comforting and conflicting words would swirl around the young man's head with the smoke, both trailing off.

Bumping between the crowds, as he found himself vomiting the party moved around him. The people acting in strange fits of euphoria, plenty of those around him stripping, running outward across the halls as one even tried to climb the chandeliers, and then proceeded to get grappled off of it by one of the guards. The party did not stop, and the only place of silence was the curtain, which stood brazenly in its view. Almost picturesque in the haze as it framed the image, while someone then proceeded to crash in front of him.

When he had regained himself he would notice the illusions around the room changed as bubbles now slowly floated down from the sky, inside one could see reflections of themselves dancing. It seemed as if the shows never ended here, how many hours had it actually been since he had been here? Some of the faces were starting to look different, and there certainly wasn't an elephant sitting in the center floor before when Eight had arrived. The world of the spiders seemed to be a lavish one, then again much of those here didn't portray direct trader vibes.

The marble floors would almost feel ground in its firmness. Mostly around the slaver, as he moved the crowds would rush around him, fluxing like a wave of shadows. Hands reaching out to grab him, the door was close yet so far away. It was a sobering walk, however he might've already thrown that all up. It was really up to him how he faced his reality right now, it was just a much a test of him as it was a party, one who lost themselves so easily would find struggle in the spider's web.

For behind the curtain, where the walls breathed and the silence screamed, sat the spider he was waiting for. The tarantula, the spiders of Reim who controlled its web.

Eight recalled the entire burden of his life, that he had survived. He was on the cusp of starting a name for himself. Working diligently on someone elses behalf. He assured himself that he deserved this, and have this crazy trip shouldn't be able to stop him. As the room felt like it was revolving around him, the smoke turned into bubbles.

Eight knew what had he had to focus on, making it past the silk curtains. He lined himself up with the stairs. Sasha using it on her own to keep herself up, being pulled by Eight. Eight saw the main attraction was an elephant but he couldn't even be certain it was real and paid it no mind.

Then the hands of strangers tugged at him, or so he thought. He didn't even pay them any mond, or even giving them a polite nod. He waded through the web with all of his poise through sheer force of will and risking his sanity by abandoning his grasp on reality.

Eight swept the red curtain aside before entiering with his companion, hoping he had actually gone where he intended to go.

The breathing of the room changed upon crossing the curtains threshold. The sound danced across the room, bouncing out from the accordion. Drums matching to its' pace with other woodwind instruments helping carry the tune. The notes dropping on his head, stumbling in to invite the guest. The band which commanded the room stood in left, in a small space in the wall for them to rest of the long hall.

"Happy to see you've managed to join us, I hope you've been enjoying your time in my manor." A voice chimed in, leading towards the room's end.

Marble floors smoothly polished followed the rooms burgundy papered walls which with ivory boarding, decorated with golden vines seemingly etched, then painted. Adorned with what seemed to paintings on the left, leading from old Reiman generals, to politicians. All seeming to come forth from the same lineage, a dirt old one at that. Trailing along the right sat items, old pots, dishes a sword even. Perhaps they were relics or heirlooms of some kind?

All of which lead towards the group sitting at the end of the long hall, seated at the dining table. The figure in the swan mask sat there sitting in chiffon tunic with lapis toga. His arms crossed on the crimson cloth with gold lacing and black trim. Despite the fact it was clearly a dining table no food or plated rested upon it. Only a lone, bronze candelabra in the center.

"No need to feel shy, take a seat wherever you feel comfortable. I could have someone bring something in, we can be here as long as you like, but since you're here now I assume you're ready to talk business." The swan would say sweetly, the glugging sound of wine accompanying as he poured a glass into his crystal cup. His hands gesturing to offer if either of his two associates behind him would like a glass.

As 8 would have the moment to take his seat his patron would pour more wine. He would pass a glass of black steel to the man behind him to his right. He was tall, in strange black overcoat with red trim and gold thread at the buttonholes. His face was covered in a bat mask, the only semblance of his appearance which could be seen was his ashen bone hair, thick and long resting on his shoulders. His clawed hand would clasp the glass and reside back to his spot. To his left another man would step forward, grabbing the ruby glass poured for him. He wasn't as tall, in fact he seemed smaller than the swan who still sat. Amber locks resided behind his Dodo mask. His dressed in an alabaster tunic with a sunflower toga and dark leather sandals strapped up to his knees. After grabbing his glass he would stumble backward into place, and now 8's glass.

Thuddddddseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesshhhhhh The topaz crystal cup would make its way across the table, resting before the arriving spider.

"We have two main matters to accomplish in our little meeting today. First, we get to give you your tattoo as apart of your official initiation! Sadly you don't get to pick the color but you do get to pick the spot where you'd like it." The playful tone only continued for a moment before his emerald eyes glared, the intensity going past the mask's guise. "And then we have the job, or the specific task that we're going to set you on. We've noticed you've been adept at grabbing and reforming individuals. We want you to go for the prized lions of Reim, and eventually the leader of their pride, Octavius Flavius!"

The grandiosity of the tone would lift the room almost, the man lurching forward as he would take a sip of wine, the others sipping beneath their masks as their mouths barely showed. He knew it was best to dangle the big prize, or the main catch before people in order to see their interests. He wanted to know what 8 wanted and in Reim most wanted acclaim. And the Swan, well he wanted the fanalis gone.

Eight walked on ahead, guiding Sasha by the hand. The slaver seemed to catch a whiff of fresh air in this area, sobering him up one breath at a time. Sasha was impressed by the marble and gold, looking around like a child in a candy story, while Eight's attention turned to the portraits and heirlooms, trying to piece more information around this organization. His natural reaction would be to pull out a seat for his companion, but it would not befit the company he was in. Eight stood beside a chair, arms crossed behind him while his eyes narrowed and focused on Sasha. For some reason, Sasha seemed to naturally act on her best behavior, glancing down avoid her masters gaze with a smile as she pulled out the seat for him, standing behind him as if she were a soldier despite her vermillion, silky dancer attire. Eight nodding once he was comfortable to 'talk business.'

Eight noticed the swan mask, the person he was supposed to meet. However there were two more interesting masks in the room. The slaver noticed a man with a noticeable stature behind him in a bat mask, then his attention focused to the one behind the bird-like mask, an unfamiliar creature to him, well-dressed. Eight's hand caught the gemstone cup on its path to him, and took a sip of the wine, showing trust that he would not be poisoned in his new company.

Eight listened to his host, finally noticing his optics. The words like a faint echo in the background as he tried to see into the Swan mask's intent through his gaze. Tuning back into his voice as his brain replayed the conversation... He was set on having the tattoo on his neck, it came naturally to him but he was unaware this was part of the initiation. It'll be something he has to research for other groups: initiation procedures.

But his last line caught him completely offguard. Eight's fist clenched around the goblet, his thumb popping the bowl of his cup off, while his teeth were bared under a smile, his heart pulsing. This was the man who was in charge of his parents, the reason Eight's parents ended up in slavery once more, the reason Eight was a slave. This was perfect, capturing this man... it would be tough but this might have been the most important thing he could do. He would need to train and recruit allies to his cause...

"Very well, walk towards the door turn around and kneel, I shall have one of my attendants put the mark on your neck." Swan would say, his voice speaking sweetly. Once the overlord of slime was in kneeling position from the shadows a woman with a gold face mask, soil brown hair, and alabaster toga would step out. With the magic stamp in hand, ready to mark the new initiate.

Once the initiate 8 was in position the cool touch of the tool would imprint on his neck. As the magic from the tool would glow its imprint would burn into the back of his neck, the spider's image spreading over, grasping onto his web of scars as its grip tightened on his shoulders.


Swan's voice would raise up, now that the initiate was marked. "Most broodlings simply get marked and must work their way up to our webs, but since we have specifics tasks in mind for you today shall also be the day as your birth as a higher spider. Taking a breath his dialogue would continue. "Remove your mask and choose your name brother, and once you do you shall come to face us as all, and know our names!" His playful voice carrying forward to accentuate the ceremony of the situation.

He'd turn around to face those who invited him into their organization, into their web, and into their brood. They stood in a line, Swan revealing his face to the man he had invited into his house.



The reiman man would walk up, introducing himself properly to 8. "I am Brutus Reimanus Maximus, my family has served in reim as judges for centuries, and we've used slaves to manage our estates and affairs while we work. I am the Rose-hair Tarantula of Reim and I am in control of all operations in the countries underground, you will directly report to me."

He would extend his hand  in a shake while slightly bowing "It'll be my pleasure helping mold you as a spider." After giving his greeting and gesture he would march out of the way for the next spider, his compatriot who was donned the dodo mask.


Melancholy masked his face, quickly turning damper as tears began to swell. The young man, small man would make his way up to the man of slime who stood a decent few heads taller than him. As he looked up his eyes would well, staring into his soul almost.

"I..I..I'm Goliath bird eater, but my real name is Rhine Rex Lestus, but you can just call me Rhine!" He would bow quickly before his head jolted back up. His stiff board body shaking with his nervousness, which for a second seemed to dip in his eyes before the sadness returned. "I'm the broodfather for the entire northwest region, I'll hear about all of your efforts and extend further tasks as you prove yourself, I answer only to Remus himself."

He would rush to the side as it was time to meet the final person in the room. The shadows would move aside for him as the elderly man would show his face. The last time he showed his face in Reim color had still touched his hair, now his dove-white hair draped over his face as his facial hair matched.


With an unbreakable, crushing gaze he would speak. His sly voice looping around 8's head as the magician looked down on him. "I've heard of your acts, it seems you have your own ideology, well that's fine. While I always watch I only care that my goal is accomplished, bring suffering, and bring pain. Spread your darkness across this land, show me a masterpiece of suffering and you shall be rewarded." With his words he'd pull out a sapphire ring, filling it with magoi. "This is the power I hold! This is the power our path will offer if you comply!" As the ring would glow with dark energy, black rukh would swirl and form around him as a new shape would cover the mysterious man.


"I AM REMUS ROMA, THE HEAD OF THE SPIDERS AND ARACHNID IMPERIUM, THIS IS MY WEB OF DESPAIR ACROSS THIS WORLD!" The nightmare visage would spread, as the power of the dark metal vessel would emanate from the lanterns hanging on his sides, it seemed that's what the ring had changed into. As the magic flames flicker and the room would shift almost it wouldn't be long the Remus would keep this visage Eight stood before his new line of superiors. He could ask any question he wished, but the head of the spiders would be parting this party as the night would be theirs

Eight would do as instructed, almost feeling a sense of honor. Eight would kneel down, exposing his neck to the woman. As the magic tool pressed against his neck, he felt it working on him. The sensation of magoi crawling down his flesh. The ink stopping as it found a home on his web of scars. He tightened the suit back over it, hiding the head of the spider. The legs still reaching around the back of his head and his shoulders.

"I'll be known as the Diving Bell Spider. You may know me as Eight, but my name is actually Hyperion Tol Baelsar."

He was finally introduced to his sponsor. 'Brutus...'It had seemed he would be developing an intimate relationship with this man in particular. 'Rhine... higher than Brutus but nervous. Ruse?' Choppy thoughts as he was focused on everything. But here was the moment of truth. 'Remus.' He had heard rumors of this man, but it felt like it was too great to be true, but as the magician had transformed into an eerie form, talking about the Arachnid Imperium and a web of despair. Eight acknowledged suffering. the suffering as a slave was what made him who he was. It stripped away the excess, polishing the rough off the diamond, so to speak. Hyperion Tol Baelsar would gladly add to this web.