He looked down when his heel hit something and upon perceiving that there was an enormous spider crawling along the ground, Rautu sprang forth with his sword in hand, roaring in violent fury as he plunged his weapon into its enormous body. He hacked, he hewed, he crushed the remaining pieces with the flat of his blade, but still the spider crawled about, remaking itself with alacrity and moving toward its aggressor with a strange complacence. Magic? was the panicking notion as the Den Asaan stepped back, aghast and agape at the petrifying creature. His bane, his nemesis would approach him; the idea was excruciating enough, but that the creature should be undying was an even greater vexation. A spider that would eternally mock his distain with its presence: there was a notion which he could not and would not accept, but an even further mockery was upon him when suddenly, as the spider drew near, it suddenly stopped, stood on its hirsute hind legs, and began to dance.