Eight-Legged Learning

by **Inoadar** on August 19th, 2013, 4:07 am

45th of Summer, 513

"Anyone wishing to continue with fungal studies will need to move to S-12. The rest of you, if you wish to study Araneida, you will need to help me carry the samples, specialized implements, charts and basic reference material inside. Rest assured the glass partitions ARE thick enough to prevent the little beasties from biting your arms. Just don't drop them, please."

The prospects gathered in the hall, daring each other to carry the various glass enclosures with the more intimidating spiders within. The Master rolled his eyes at the irony that most of the more "sensitive" - 'Call it cowardly' - students opted for the smallest and most colorful of the varieties. He would enjoy the shivers and dropped jaws that would overcome some of them once they learned which were the most truly deadly species.

"I want to make something clear right now..." The Master called, looking around to make sure he had everyone's attention. "These little delights are far more important to me than any of you are. If you have an accident and one of them gets loose, or if you feel something and see one crawling up your leg. You will...NOT...stomp on it. You will be sent to the Interrogation wing as a demonstration subject if you do. That applies to any of you pranksters who think it will be funny to play jokes with fakes.

"In the event of a bite or sting, we have antitoxins on hand. But before we do that, there is one thing that should be done first, if there is time. Can anyone guess at this time, what that is?" A couple of tentative hands raised partially, while others looked at each other and shrugged.

Suggestions were made with all the confidence of a blind man entering a strange room. "Call you? Master? - Clear the room? - Call the Headmaster?" The Master's scowl steadily deepened with each suggestion.

Inoadar ventured, "Recapture the specimen in one of those jars?" he made an all-inclusive gesture to a shelf full of jars.

The master stopped scowling and pointed at Inoadar. "Better...but no...we can recapture the thing AFTER we..." he looked around one more time hopefully. After a moment he sighed heavily and shook his head as he finished his sentence. "...after we take a blood sample from the victim. People, the kind of reaction with the blood that we observe will be the quickest way to determine which sort of antitoxin to use. Now, of course, this isn't necessary if we know beyond a doubt which species bit our poor victim, but that's not always such a sure thing."

"Now, however, we have step one in our course. Everyone is going to put one of these on their arm and shake it to make it bite. If you don't think you can endure this horror, leave now with the knowledge that your enrollment fee will not be reimbursed. We will be doing this from time to time, to get you over the revulsion most people experience. Line up please."

by **Inoadar** on August 23rd, 2013, 4:14 am

Fortunately, Inoadar had always found spiders fascinating. It was true, he didn't like them crawling on him, but he knew these were not deadly varieties. He considered them wickedly efficient predators and the wave-like symmetrical scrolling of their legs as they scooted across a surface was like the poetry of a gifted madman.

Still, he had already endured the bite of his rider, when he saw the kid in front of him tense up. He could see the hair on the back of the guy's neck stand up and shiver along with the rest of him, as a low moan forced its way from his lips. It reached a high note and the guy flapped his arm in panic, sending the eight-legged, black horror flying through the air as bodies scattered, shouting or screaming.

Instinct took over as Inoadar saw it flying right for his face. He suffered two more bites as he made a failed attempt to swat the the thing from the air. He tried to duck, but that only landed it on the side of his neck, where it promptly chomped its way down his shoulder and inside his shirt.

He froze, knowing this to be the best course of action. Someone slugged him hard in the upper back and he felt the splatter as the impact propelled him forward to catch himself against the edge of a table with his arms, the action earning him an additional pair of bites from his initial spider.

Enraged, he grabbed the spider from his arm, by the bulbous abdominal appendage. Whirling around, he slapped his spider into the face of the student that had smacked his back and the punched him right on the spider, making a grisly, eight legged bruise on his cheek.

"HOW DO YOU PETCHING LIKE IT, IDIOT?" Inoadar roared as the splatter-faced offender backed away, eyes wide in horror, more at having a dead spider on his face than at having just been punched there. Inoadar, in the meantime, took his shirt off and ordered him to wipe the mess off his back.

"THAT'S ENOUGH! DO NOT MOVE, EITHER OF YOU!" the Master demanded, his voice carrying threat and authority in equal measures. He snatched the shirt from Inoadar's hand and wiped the smashed arachnid from his back. "Now this is EXACTLY what I'm talking about! Another few steps and you might have kicked over the container with the Russet Rogue, and then we'd have a serious problem, or rather, you two would, as you'd be the ones risking blindness or paralysis to get it contained again."

"I was only trying to kill the one going down hi-..." the youngster protested.

"Shut up! You're only making it worse." Inoadar muttered, swatting the guy's leg for emphasis.

The Master eyed Inoadar and scowled. "Yes, you are, BOTH of you. But I expect this sort of tomfoolery on the first day, so I'm inclined to be generous. And seeing that these were only ordinary barn spiders, it's no great loss. Nonetheless, you two will share the honor of putting the extra-ordinary species to sleep, so we can examine them more closely."

He turned and circled the enrollees, "Yes, that's right, we put them to sleep. But first we set up our spark generator to shock them and maintain a mild, but constant shock to trigger the release of toxin from their fangs or stingers. Yes that's right, they do not all bite. Some sting, some spit, some lace their webs with toxin. However, biting is most common, so we will begin with that."

He walked over to a large square enclosure, covered with a blanket. "Now we DO have some gasses that enable a quick, deep torpor, but that is primarily for the...big ones...Like THIS!" He swept back the blanket, revealing a truly horrific creature, rearing back on its back six legs, swinging the front two threateningly. Needle-like stingers protruding from the inner sides.

The Master patted the top pane of glass, not cringing in the least as the thing swung a foot and a half of leg against it, leaving a slight trail of milky green liquid across the inner surface of the glass. The Master beamed with pride at his beast and mockery at his cringing students. "This, boys and girls, is "The Kidnapper". My pride and joy. It drops from heights and stings its victims with the needles in its front legs. Paralysis is nearly instantaneous. It then drags its victims back to inject its tissue-dissolving toxin into their flesh, making it possible to...suck-out...the victim's essence."

Color drained from several faces, and a couple of them had to steady themselves to keep from fainting. The Master continued. "Its woodsy green and brown color scheme makes it difficult to see before it...uh...makes its presence known in its own inimitable fashion. As you can see, its legs look like branches and its body blends with most forest foliage. But don't worry, they are not generally man-hunters. cats, dogs, birds, small deer. However, evidence HAS been found to suggest they will snatch an infant from inattentive parents." he shook his head in a 'tsk, tsk' fashion.

by **Inoadar** on August 26th, 2013, 12:05 am

The Master instructed the others to prepare the shock generator, that device Inoadar called the "sparkler", two copper disks, tightly wrapped in silk, and cranked to rub together and generate a strong static charge. Another set a "bed" with forceps to hold the spider in place. The clamps were padded to avoid injuring the spiders legs. Another fit a pipette to a small suction plunger.

Everyone signaled their readiness and The Master began. "We will be milking the "String Cutter" today. As you probably know, or can guess, the name is derived from the way that victims drop like puppets that have had their strings cut." He waved off the suggestion of accuracy. " Of course, this is an exaggeration. The impact of the venom is not so quick as that, nor is single bite sufficient to achieve such a degree of effect. But nicknames are designed to be colorful as well as descriptive."

He now turned his focused gaze on Inoadar and the man he'd punched several chimes ago. This second man flinched slightly. "I will see you get your turn tomorrow, Mr. Corley, but for today, I have decided that Mr. Parnell will be putting our little pet to sleep." Since 'Parnell' was the name he was going under, Inoadar knew the Master meant him.

Once again he turned back and started to pace flamboyantly, addressing a crowd. "Now as I said previously, we DO have gasses to put the larger species down. But for a little fellow like this, we will rely on a system and ingredient much more cost effective." He turned back to face Inoadar. "You are simply going to put it to sleep with your breath."

Several gasps of shock and sighs of relief sounded from the others present. Inoadar's eyes widened in concern as he looked at the enclosure holding the spider. It was basically just a large glass box with a single round, capped fitting on the side. There was no screen or flange to hold the spider in once the cap was removed. Inoadar tried to keep the apprehension from his voice. "I trust I'm not expected to simply purse my lips to that hole and blow." He envisioned the little devil camping on his lips and biting the crap out of him.

The Master paused, eyebrows raised, just long enough for Inoadar to take a hard swallow. "No, Mr. Parnell...entertaining as that would surely be, we want to milk the spider, not feed him. That comes after." He went to a supply case, and removed a small clear cylinder. There was a cap with rubber hose protruding from one end, and a round, valved opening on the side. The other end had a rubber cap on an inner circumference, with an outer ring set back a ways.

There was a 'door' in the top glass panel. The Master opened it back and stuck a long pair of forceps through, nudging the spider away from the end of the box with the fitting. "Okay, take the cap off the cylinder and be ready to screw it onto the fitting in the side of the enclosure. But first now, remove the cap from the inner ring of the cylinder."

One of the students did this and found that the outer ring, set back from the narrower, inner one, screwed onto the fitting in the side and allowed the narrower one to extend sightly into the glass box enclosure. The Master 'herded' the String Cutter into the cylinder and told one of the younger prospects to cap the cylinder. The young man's eyes widened and his face paled, knowing that he would have his hand within inches of the spider as he capped the cylindrical trap.

A second prospect was told to unscrew the cylinder and hand it to Inoadar. Nothing but the thickness of the glass separated the student's hand from the spider, which made several aggressive moves as a result of sitting in a hold that was made to spin around as it was unscrewed. The student's hand shivered.

"Oh for goodness' sake, give me that." he groused impatiently as he snatched it from the young lady and thrust it toward Inoadar. "Well, here you are, Mr. Parnell, Now just blow in the tube. Your breath will displace the normal air in the cylinder and put our little String Cutter to sleep. Keep the side valve up. Your breath is heavier than air so the regular air will be forced out the top." He made a face, "That is, if your breath doesn't kill it first."

by **Inoadar** on August 28th, 2013, 4:33 am

Inoadar could well imagine that the Master had deliberately chosen a very short hose to blow into. The aggressive "String Cutter" kept charging the port, bringing it within inches of his face. His next breath was always bolstered by a just a bit of revulsion. Though he was not truly frightened of it, that is, he KNEW it was contained and could not bite him, it was still a natural reflex to want space between it and him. His appreciation for its efficient predatory body design did NOT take away from its hideous ugliness.

Eventually, after what seemed like ten times as much as the mere two or three chimes it really was, the spider got listless and stopped it's bold advances. It got wobbly and its legs began to sag. Then it just sort of leaned to one side and collapsed, a couple of legs popping limply to the side.

"Just a few more, to be sure," The Master advised. "Then give the cell a little shake and see if you can roll it on its back. The bed and shock generator are ready. We will have two or three chimes to do this before it recovers. I will do this next part myself, I trust there will be no objections."

He uncapped the narrower end and reached in with forceps, grabbing the spider at the midsection and laying it on the bed, nudging four of its legs, two on each side, into line with the clamps, which he released to hold it in place. When turned over, the "bed" had some sort of push spring release that would open all four clamps at once.

The String Cutter lay on its back, its legs splayed out as the Master took the pipette suction plunger and stroked the "face" of the creature, "fluffing" the fangs into a more unobstructed position. Already, beads of venom showed on the ends. "Now, SLOWLY, a single crank of the charger please, boy." he instructed to the kid manning the shock generator.

A mild tremor went through the trapped arachnid and the Master pushed the lever on the plunger device. This had reverse gearing, so that pushing on the lever caused the plunger inside to be pulled back. Not much more than an inch of the narrow pipette filled with a clear liquid before an air bubble showed the end of the spider's reflexive discharge.

"Now, now..." the Master cooed, "we can do better than that. A little faster, and make it two cranks." he said to the shock worker, without looking. Another tremor hit the critter, its unbound legs curling with the current. One of the students actually allowed a whimper of empathy for the poor spider's predicament.

Much more liquid was gained this time and the process was repeated, but the air bubbles showed up after only a couple more inches of liquid the third time. "Okay, I guess that's enough for today. And a point for the one who felt sorry for the poor little guy. We keep him well fed and everything, but it's not much of a life our 'guests' receive here at the Institute."

The Master picked up the square bed and turned it over, where there was a hand grip and another plunger-type button. He opened the top hatch on the glass box and stuck the bed through, punching the button. the clamps opened simultaneously and the spider dropped the last inch to the bottom, where it very slowly regained its "personality".

"He'll come around, just in time to be fed." The Master went to another box and used a small thin net to capture a cricket, out of dozens there. "Noisy bastards. I hate crickets." He sneered as he dropped the juicy bug into the glass box with the spider. "He won't eat it right away, he'll wait for a bit of his toxin to return, but it'll be a shriveled husk by morning. He recovers enough toxin for a good dozen bites. For OUR purposes that's enough for about four doses, give or take, depending on how strong you want to make it. The toxin is basically finished, but we will be purifying it for greater potency."

by **Inoadar** on September 1st, 2013, 12:03 am

Over the next several days they all took turns milking the String Cutter. Purifying the toxin was simpler than Inoadar had expected it to be, as was the process of creating an antitoxin. The toxin was placed on ice in short, stubby glass vials shortly after being drained from the creatures glands and left to sit overnight. The percentage of water was eliminated this way. As the remaining toxin was poured into test tubes, the ice remained behind. Of course, the ice was then kept for the small trace of toxin still remaining. When thawed, the watery fluid was what was used to begin generating antitoxin in test animals, so it did not go to waste.

With the water no longer present to act as a natural solvent, the tubes containing the toxin were placed in the spinner, along with a few grains of a powdered enzyme that caused the inert elements to bind together, creating a thin layer of sludge that separated easily from the now-purified toxin beneath it. As with the water, there was a trace amount of toxin that adhered to the sludge layer when poured out. This was then added to the retained remains from the previous step. The water in those remains, once again, serving as a solvent to breakdown and equalize the mix of ingredients. If the Master felt that the steps had not yielded sufficient results, he would make the student repeat the freezing and draining and spinning and separating to get a few more drops of purified toxin.

From day one, the weak cast off remains were used to create antitoxin. This, surprisingly, required the care and feeding of a goat, which was kept in a kennel in an outer court at the institute. As with milking the spiders, the learners took their turns feeding and grooming and nurturing the animal, keeping it calm and content as much of the time as possible. Brushing its coat, scratching behind its ears and talking calmly while hand feeding it the dregs of their lunches.

Some of the students, Inoadar included, took to bringing in items that they discovered, by accident, were the animal's favorite snacks. The point of keeping the animal was that the weakened toxin serum was injected into the animal in slowly but steadily increasing increments over time, until it eventually got to where it could take a dosage well over what would be a lethal human dosage. They would "clutch" a roll of skin and fur along its back or nape, never in the same spot twice, and inject it there. Inoadar would always scratch the spot first. Slowly at first, almost a caress, but building to a sturdy scratch. This went far to numb the area for the injection.

This, of course, was not something that was going to be accomplished in a single season. But the Master informed them of the goal they were working towards, in case any of them chose to return in future seasons for advanced studies. What he informed them was that the blood would build up an immunity. Poisoners would then be able to take blood samples and derive antitoxin from the blood itself.

Inoadar recalled how his Master in the fungal portion of his studies had mixed some congratulations in with recriminations when Inoadar had brought back some seemingly useless fungal samples in hopes if gleaning some necessary catalyst from it. The Master had told him that he'd have done better to pick the sample in the early morning, before the sunlight "awakened" the trees natural defensive neutralizing agent. The samples had no toxin to be gained at all.

However, the invasive enzyme present in the leading edge of the fungus, the edge that actually contacted the wood of the tree, WAS present. This enzyme broke down the cellular structure of the wood allowing the fungus to gain an ever-increasing parasitic foothold on its host tree. This same fluid would be added to the blood samples drawn from the affected goat. It would break down the membranes and structural elements of the blood, allowing the cytoplasm to be separated in the spinner. The "dross" of the blood would collect at the top, while the desired fluids containing the immune characteristics would be easily collected.

These fluids still needed some processing beyond this simple step. But that would come later. For now, the care and milking of the spider, and the care, injecting and bloodletting of the goat, filled what time was not spent purifying toxin samples.

by **Inoadar** on September 11th, 2013, 5:25 am

Of course, not every toxin sample was milked from the "String Cutter". There were other varieties that were milked in the same way. The "Red Sleeper", the "Black Fiddler", the "Stilt-Legged Stinger", the "Wax Wraith", and others. There was talk of a devilish little variety called the "Lucid Lurker" that was found on some island in the Suvan Sea, but no one had procured a sample for research yet.

Most of these had effects that weakened the target, but in different ways. Some simply destroyed local muscle tissue. These could be deadly if a strong enough dosage made its way to the heart, but usually it was dispersed throughout the body long before that and just made the victim WISH for death. Some affected bone, making it temporarily rubbery, so the muscle had greatly reduced leverage against whatever weight it was trying to manipulate. Some caused paralyzing cramps, with the heart, again, being a possible critical target of concentration. Some left permanent affects, or scars, or both.

The "Brown Blowgun" was a special case. It caused the muscle to swell to the point of ineffectiveness. Inoadar had to breathe through a small hose for a day when the Master decided a demonstration was in order. He told him to hold the tube as straight as he could while blowing into the chamber to put the little beast to sleep for milking. What he didn't say was that the "Blowgun" referred to the little fellow's ability to metabolize a pin-like dart of hardened web that it coated in toxin and blew through a tubular appendage that was not visible until it decided to use it.

It was an object lesson in the remarkable ability of creatures to use their natural weapons with amazing accuracy. The little spider blew the dart the full length of the tube Inoadar was blowing into, having judged and acted upon the opportunity, as Inoadar's hold on the tube cause it to flex often. The dart stuck in the back of his throat and the tissue began to swell at once.

There was some measure of panic and pandemonium, but the Master insisted on silence and observation as he handed Inoadar a two foot long length of smooth tubing and told him to "control your gag reflex, if you wish to live." Inoadar found the motivation to be very effective in spontaneously prompting the needed talent, and spent the better part of the day with about eight inches of tubing hanging out of his mouth. Several crude jokes were made at his expense, and he made a note of the names, for future "gestures of appreciation".

by **Inoadar** on September 15th, 2013, 10:02 pm

Despite the discomfort of the spider's surprise attack technique, Inoadar found the ordeal intriguing. He was getting sick of the tedious schedule of milkings, feedings, injections and blood draws. The processing routines used on the milked fluids was largely the same as well. Just purifying and concentration.

The only break from the monotony was that the effects of the different species' toxins varied somewhat. But there was little time spent on observation of these differences. He was glad of those species whose manners of toxin delivery was far removed from the usual fang/bite system.

The "Blowgun" was his first encounter. But he managed to paralyze his hand for two days as well, when he misunderstood the recommendations for handling the gassed "Kidnapper". The creature had spines in its foremost symmetrical pair of legs, which popped out to sting its target with a paralyzing agent as it then wrapped it up and carried it back up to its treetop lair.

The Master made it clear that they would be using the shock generator under normal circumstances, but that he wanted each of them to experience hand milking the legs of the beast at least once. Inoadar, of course, wanted to impress the Master by volunteering first. Shortly thereafter, the Master gave him a sarcastic "attaboy", not for volunteering so readily, but for being such a perfect object lesson to the rest of them in the hazards of failing to listen.

Nonetheless, the Master did admit that he had milked a fair portion of the toxin, before getting his hand pierced by a latent spine popping up unexpectedly. The Kidnapper had a body the size of a cat and legs the length of an average man's arms. And though they were skinny, they were, like the limbs of all wild creatures, very tough and wiry. It was much like cracking the rigor mortis of a dead body. And what's more, they were expected to take care not to bruise the "poor thing".

They finally got around to the "Fogweaver". This was one Inoadar had been particularly interested in from the start of his season here. It's distinguishing feature was that the web itself contained the operative toxin. Both a psychotropic and a nerve stimulant, the web could be rendered down to remove the adhesive property. This also seemed to strengthen the remaining elements to the point of being able to easily affect humans.

It was the base component of "Silk Streak", a contact poison that had no damaging effect of its own, but left the target feeling, and believing, the sense that some ghastly parasite was crawling under his skin. Inoadar had witnessed men disfiguring themselves in panicked attempts to get The-Gods-knew-what out from under their skin, or off their bones. The real beauty was that, as a contact poison, those that restrained such affected men, frequently got the stuff on their own hands, though this was often weakened enough that, at least half the time, they were not quite driven to actually maim themselves.

by **Inoadar** on September 21st, 2013, 9:59 pm

He'd sneaked a sample of the web the spider spun inside its terrarium, and ran it through the process to "melt" it down and separate the web layer from the rest. He was puzzled by the lack of any real residue after the sticky upper layer had been removed. 'Is it that sparse? is it going to take that much more to get anything to work with?'

He twisted a napkin to a point and stuffed it into the test tube, swirling it around to retrieve any bit of fluid clinging to the inside of the glass. 'Well...it's all in the name of science.' he said to himself as he wiped the napkin on his bare arm. He felt dampness and immediately made an effort to focus on his sense of identity and surroundings, knowing how powerful the psychotropic agent was. He waited to feel the effects, determined to resist them...It took longer than he expected...He continued to wait...

And waited some more...

"Something wrong, Mr. Parnell?" the Master's voice made him jump, and he turned to face whatever punishment the instructor would inflict for sneaking the webbing without permission.

Apparently, embarrassment was to be reprisal. The Master cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention. "It appears Mr. Parnell did not take note of how no one else was bothering to collect the Fogweaver's webbing from its terrarium. I guess he felt that entitled him to take everyone's share for his own use. Would someone like to explain to him why he can feel free to help himself without our protests? Why the webbing in that terrarium is worthless?"

He pointed to a young woman, one of several present indicating knowledge of the answer. "Sir, it's simple to anyone who read the chapter on "Indirect Application" or the treatise on "Environmental Impact on the Evolution of Toxins" under the "Araneida" subheading." she prattled off, clearly enjoying showing Inoadar up. She had been in his fungal group, where he had been King Shyke, and had lorded it over the others. Vengeance was clearly sweet.

"And just what CAN any idiot determine from the information found there, Miss...Terrell?" The Master said as though there were no insult at all suggested by his choice of words. Inoadar grimaced as the two batted his dignity back and forth.

Miss Terrell basked in the spotlight. "Well sir, given that it takes a special kind of idiot to proceed with an experiment without consulting any sources of reference material beforehand, I will assume that Mr. Parnell is only so much of an idiot as to have read the text, but failed to glean any knowledge from it..."

"I think that would be a fair assumption, Miss Terrell. Now, would you please be so kind as to enlighten our semi-illiterate enrollee as to what he should have learned from that text, which he no doubt studied diligently?" Inoadar fumed as the others chuckled. He noted a couple others from the fungal course now.

"I'd be glad to, sir. First, the amount of webbing within the limited space of the terrarium should have already signified a quantity insufficient to produce any useable amount. The text clearly states that the span of web produced by even a single Fogweaver is measured in square yards, not inches or even feet. This fact is, in fact, the source of its name, the expanse of cloudy webbing, giving an appearance of a low-lying fog, rather than what the uninformed believe, which is that it is based on the psychotropic effect of the toxin "fogging" the victims mind."

Inoadar decided to show a degree of maturity by writing this down, rather than continuing to visibly stew in the face of his well-earned humiliation.

"Go on, Miss Terrell." The Master urged. "Mr. Parnell is all ears..."

by **Inoadar** on September 26th, 2013, 6:20 am

"To put it simply, sir, it takes more than one. In fact, it always takes two." She went to explain the necessity of the male and female species together, working the same expanse of thread. How the different biological enzymes of the two genders complimented each other as they dissolved and respun each others' webs, generating both the psychotropic and stimulant factors necessary to create the poison.

Individually, they brought no toxic potency to the webbing. And two males in close contact, or two females, would not tolerate each other and would fight to the death. So, anytime you found a pair working the same massive web, you knew you had a productive combination.

But all this did not guarantee that if you found a Fogweaver, it would be "partnered" up with a member of the opposite sex. They often got separated by getting eaten by birds or frogs or what have you. Or a new challenger of either sex would come along and disrupt things. Or when the egg-laying was complete, the male was often driven away.

Plus, there was always the possibility of a creature of medium size getting caught up in the web, after its potency had been acheived, and being affected enough to thrash it apart in the manic throes of its poisoned insanity, carrying the whole thing away as it ran off.

The only reason the Master had the specimen he did was so the class could see what the thing looked like. The trick was to find a working pair in the wild and leave them relatively alone to build the chemical potency of the web with each cycle of respinning, and then harvest it right as the female lays eggs.

Inoadar added all these details to his notes, along with a sketch of the spider's color pattern. When this summer session was over, he would take trip into the wild and search out a Fogweaver web. The other spiders' toxins were essentially the same, and milking and processing was pretty much the same. And with the exception of the Kidnapper's paralytic effect, they were all weakening agents. The Fogweaver was the only radically different one.

It was the one he was after. He was really eager to add "Silk Streak" to his product line. Maybe he'd get a goat as well, for milking spiders and making antidotes. He needed a Kelvic to draw blood from for "Wildleash" as well. He wondered if Kelvics came in goat.

by **Vanari** on November 15th, 2013, 12:30 am

Inoadar

Observation	+4 XP
Brawling	+1 XP
Listening	+3 XP
Composure	+2 XP
Research	+3 XP
Drawing	+1 XP

Lores :

Notes :

Completed Eight-Legged Learning