You clear your throat. You stand with your lute in your hand and begin a soft plea to this audience of giant arachnids.

Are you eating us, spiders so fair?
Wizard, thief, paladin, and rogue 
I beg you with this musical prayer
At the very least leave me alone

The spiders hiss loudly. They hate gentle, folksy music! You should’ve played something more peppy, less beggy.

The annoyed spiders swipe you out of their way, then noisily chow down on your former clients. Oh well. These guys had it coming. The paladin kept calling everyone a “douche-goblin” as a “joke.” So, who’s the douche-goblin now, Tybalt?

You run all the way back to the inn you journeyed from. You attempt to book a few nights’ stay, but unfortunately you dropped your bag of gold somewhere in the forest as you ran. It’s going to be a long night performing requests for pocket change in the pub. Someone requests “Hey There Delilah” and you deeply sigh.


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