It's another day in the South American jungle, and as usual a very large arachnid was investigating their territory in search of anything out of the ordinary.
Of course, to some, this creature itself was out of the ordinary. A gigantic tarantula with a body the size of a twin bed, it strode through the jungle without a care for it supposedly being impossible for such a large arthropod to exist. It stomped forward with steady and sure strides as it made the rounds on its' practiced route, a route it had taken every day for years. Nearby villagers could set their timepieces to the march of the spider, which was known as a "Moulder" for the fungi that grew upon its' body. Scientists who had observed the creature as it performed its' daily constitutional surmised that the mold, moss, and mushrooms sprouting from the spider's back played a key role in its' biology, but as the species was considered extremely rare, no one had yet gotten approval to capture it and study it more closely. It didn't help that until recently it was very uncommon to find any outsiders researching Agama's surrounding flora and fauna. This region of South America had been an isolated lost world of sorts, harboring mysterious creatures and long-lost civilizations no one had been able to dig into until now. Maybe this year, with Kobber attention focused on the region, the secrets of the jungle would finally start to be unlocked.
While the Moulder's meanderings were far from the most important mystery, at least as far as scholars were concerned, it too seemed ripe for answers. Those who studied the Moulder's path noted that it was very rigid, but when outside circumstances forced the spider to act, it proved surprisingly intelligent. This odd mix of brainpower and static routine caused no end of headscratching. The Moulder would make small diversions to catch nearby prey or avoid possible predators, and unexpected obstacles that weren't there the day before, such as a fallen tree blocking the path, were easily navigated over or around. But whenever the Moulder's pace was interrupted, it would resume its' patrol at a faster speed until it caught back up to its' proper schedule, arriving at each point of interest at the same time every day like the public transportation of people's dreams.
Today's first unexpected obstacle was a large log lying horizontally across the path. The Moulder came to a cautious stop a dozen feet from it, letting out a chirp as its' pedipalps, the small leglike limbs near its' mouth, rubbed together. This was no ordinary toppled tree. The spider could tell that something was wrong. Its' suspicions were confirmed when the trunk suddenly sprouted legs and rose up off the ground, and a huge insect head emerged from one end of the fallen tree.
This was a Spore Mantis. Despite the name, it was more of a lumbering, oversized grasshopper, lacking in that common creature's powerful legs but making up for it with its' enormous size and strength. Even the Moulder was second-best in a size comparison with this creature, though it was close enough that the two would probably be on even ground in a fight. The Moulder didn't wish to try its' luck, however. A Spore Mantis was a fearsome opponent, and only worth tackling in a lean season when the need for food is desperate. The day was young, with much more foraging to do on the route, and the Moulder had been eating well lately. It believed there was no need to gamble its' health in a fight with something this big and heavily-armored.
Fortunately, the Spore Mantis felt the same way. It let out a strange, warbling noise as it sized up the Moulder and deemed it not aggressive. Slowly, it turned and began tromping off into the jungle, twigs snapping under its' heavy tread. The path was clear, and the Moulder moved on, a little urgency in its' movements as it sought to make up for lost time.
The Moulder continued making its' way along its' practiced route, following its' own faded footprints as it investigated every inch of its' territory. The path took it near a small village, and it moved along without paying the natives any heed. A few children shouted excitedly as it passed by, but this didn't concern it either. The village's youngest citizens loved the Moulder's daily visit. Seeing such a huge spider was a treat, and they were so young that the novelty had not yet worn off. In contrast, the village's oldest residents rarely thought of the Moulder. They'd seen it pass by every day for as long as they'd lived, and it had never been quite clear if it was the same Moulder all this time or a line of succession. The creature was, again, a little-known and presumably endangered species, and even though the patterns of fungi on its' back would presumably change from one individual to another, there weren't any scientific types willing to get close enough to confirm this through daily observances over months or years.
Later in the day, the path of the Moulder took it to an overgrown ruin. Covered in vines and moss, it was barely recognizable as a building, looking more like an oddly-shaped cave entrance. The Moulder made a very particular pattern as it reached the ruins, climbing up and down and all around from several different angles, covering every inch of territory here as if it was a lawnmower cutting the grass. Finally it was satisfied, and it walked into the ruins.
The interior was pitch black. The ruins had no torches, no windows, but the Moulder had its' ways of navigating dark places. The fungi on its' body glowed softly, providing bioluminescence as an all-natural flashlight. The spider glowed in the dark, giving off just enough light for its' eight eyes to see. Creeping through the ruins' stairs without a single foot misplaced, it moved just as steadily and surely in here as it had outside on the brightly-lit jungle paths. Broken tiles lay scattered here and there, and a shattered statue lay on its' side at the bottom of the stairs, broken into three large pieces. The Moulder paid them no mind. The destruction had been worth investigating when it had just happened, but it had been some time since the ruins' disturbance, and now it was simply accepted that this was what the scenery looked like now.
Moving into the next room, the Moulder moved past ancient walls of engravings, depicting long-lost natives of Agama and their protectors. One large being, three smaller beings, standing together to guard the people of the jungle from danger. As the spider passed by the engravings, they faded back into the darkness and other carvings were lit up, these showing only two protectors, different in body shape, both of the smaller size. None of the carvings held any meaning to the Moulder. This was simply home, and the wall art was simply the wall art and nothing more.
The end of the ruins fell away, opening up into a massive underground cave. Far above was the jungle floor, the creatures walking there having no idea that something so huge lay beneath their feet. The cave was vast and deep and dark, and the Moulder's glowing fungi flashlight did little to pierce the void. It slowly crawled to the edge of the cliff and peered down into the pit below. The Moulder's pedipalps extended out, as if tasting the stale cavern air.
As always, Master yet lived.
But as always, Master was still in deep slumber.
Until the time came for Master to awaken, the Moulder would continue to patrol its' territory just as many prior generations of Moulder had. It would fulfill its' duties, no matter how long it took. And it would always come here, every day, without fail, to ensure that Master was still there.
The Moulder could not know just how close the day of awakening actually was, but it would soon find out.
No comments:
Post a Comment