>"Bwagh!"
>You let out a incoherent yelp of something approaching both surprise and irritation. Of all the bloody things...
>Give the Spider that's stuck to our hand a quick look over, to see what all happened to it.
>There is a palm-sized spot on the spider's back which looks severely charred and blackened; in the very middle it looks to have almost buckled inward. There is also a large splatter of the gooey white substance across the left side of its body and a couple limbs; several pieces of your dress seem to be stuck to these, trailing away like tattered ribbons. And, of course, you are currently gripping one of these very limbs, goo visible between its surface and your hand's.
>Rather, If we can, close the distance toward Graynor,, Open our hand as much as we can, and smack our promptu club right into it's face, see if that loosens him up or not.
>Be prepared for it to sting like the dickens.
>Give it a good clubbing, indeed, but thrust pitchfork at its face as well.
>You dash towards the gray spider, wielding your newfound mangled spider attachment. And doing your best to unattach it in the process, for that matter. The thinness of this spider's limbs proves to be an asset in this endeavor; they were narrow enough that the pads of your fingers curled only against your own palm as you grasped it and thus remain free of gunk. You put as much muscle as you can into prying away the rest of them.
>The gray spider sinks down on its limbs as you close the last couple feet towards it, looking almost as if it were preparing to strike. You lash out with your hand-arachnid before it gets the chance, giving it a reverse strike across the face. Given that a spider makes a rather top-heavy weapon and you've been actively trying to
weaken your grip on it, this doesn't end up having a lot of force. You doubt it would do more than stun your foe. But this is enough. As your weapon's path is stopped by the other spider head, you feel a sharp pull across your palm as the limb rips free and the spider tumbles away. You waste not another moment, thrusting your pitchfork square into the gray one's face. You feel a grim satisfaction as your weapon meets its mark, puncturing deeply inward. The spider makes a gurgling sound.
>You hear the other spiders closing in from the west. Diverting your path to the northeast allowed them to close some of the distance you opened and the pauses cost you several feet more. The nearest is almost in jumping distance again now.
