Visit the nearest hub.

"If you're thinking about where to go next, why not visit Dunkelthorpe? As I understand it, it's the next major hub for players going the neutral-chaotic routes," suggests the drider. "It's also where one of the larger black markets are. I'm sure you'll be able to trade for information and resources there."

"See, that's one of the problems," you say. "If we so much as go near one of those places we'll be caught out as enemy NPCs immediately."

"That's a good point," the drider nods. "So why don't you pretend to be actual players?"

You nearly tumble over yourself in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, that's it! You could pretend to be a group of players working together," suggests the drider. "All you'd need are some new names for yourselves to stand out from the other generic enemies. I mean, you clearly have the knowledge and skills to match. No one will question you as long as you know how to defend yourself, and by the time anyone notices, hopefully you'll have accumulated enough experience for it to not matter anymore!"

"I didn't think that was how player hubs worked," you frown. "I mean, I know there's a protective aura around Gritsheim that prevents me from entering. Wouldn't Dunkelthorpe have similar protections?"

"Not exactly. Dunkelthorpe isn't a particularly law-abiding settlement. It's got to be for a flourishing black market to develop," notes the spiderwoman. "The only rule they have is against player killing - so if you pretend to be some, that should stop anyone from killing you!"

"There's another issue. We don't exactly fit in as player material, here."

"Sure you do! I mean, gnome mages aren't unheard of even if they are rare. And your human friend could be passed off as a normal rogue with Gritsheim costume skin, right?"

"And me?" grumbles the thrall. "I can't be certain of what might happen if I go there. If I don't strangle someone I'm pretty sure someone else is going to."

"Hmmm... That's where that armor of yours comes in, doesn't it?" The drider points, and you look where she's indicating: the pile of protective metal that only an hour ago was under the possession of a paladin. "Anyhow, dearie, thrall players aren't as rare as you think they are."

"There are thrall players?!"

"Sure! I mean, for players who want a bit more challenge, anyway. Besides, if you stay safely behind that armor, no one should notice."

You look at the thrall as she begins gazing aimlessly at the floor. You recognize that like the thug had qualms about the broadsword, the thrall isn't entirely comfortable with being out of her own comfort zone for equipment, yet doesn't have a similarly viable idea.

"Tell you what - why don't I help you look over some of your inventory and make adjustments? It won't take me long, and they'll make perfect disguises. You'll fit right in!"

"Really?! That would be excellent!" you exclaim.

"Oh, it's nothing. Anything to help our own heroes!" smiles the drider. "After all, it's not like I'm able to join you. I can't possibly disguise myself to fit in, so I should help you as best I can... Come to think of it, you're a beastmistress, aren't you?"

"Huh?" The thrall dumbly points a finger at herself. "That's right, but what does that have to - "

You feel your warhammer fall to the ground with a solid thud as you behold what happens next: in a matter of seconds the drider scuttles over to the thrall, easily hoists her up by her arms and plants a full-bodied kiss right on her lips. Any attempts at protest by the thrall are quickly muffled as the drider gently, but firmly presses on, a line of blush going down her pale cheeks, soon mirrored by a darker streak along the thrall's face. A few rivulets of drool and other unidentifiable, sickly sweet liquid flow from where their lips have joined. Your eyes bulge, as does some lower sensation, and it's suddenly over as soon as it began as the drider breaks the lock and softly lets the thrall back down.

"Wha... wha?" you both say, though a little more breathless on the thrall's part.

"There! I just gave you some of my pheromone venom," says the drider, wiping off her mouth on an armored wrist. "It should reflect in your stats now." With the thrall too dizzy by the deep kiss, you opt to bring the list up for her.

New familiar added!
Corruptula
Category: Arachnid
Cost: 3
HP: 15
MP: 15
Melee attack: 3
Ranged attack: 1
Defense: 1
Magic Defense: 2
Agility: 3
Weakness: Fire
Resistance: Earth
Special Abilities:
Dull Thread - Fires a thread at targeted creature, giving them -10% Agility, stackable up to 30%. 3 MP.
Illusion Venom - Deals up to 3MAtk damage with 35% of inflicting Confusion on target. 5 MP.

"It might take your body a little time to get used to the pheromones, but once you're acclimatized you can produce them on your own to summon the new familiars," explains the drider. "Great," breathes the thrall, though you're not sure if she's pleased or delirious.

"And while I'm at it, let me add one final contribution. Some drider essence should help your coffers quite a bit!" the half-spider adds. "I imagine it should go for quite the price in the Dunkelthorpe black market. I just need one of your empty vials if you happen to have grabbed any."

"Uh... here?" You hand one over after some fumbling in your inventory.

"Good! Now be very careful - you don't want to get this substance on any bare skin, it's a rather powerful acid."

"We'll... keep that in mind. Where are you going to produce this drider essence anyway?"

One second later you immediately wish you hadn't asked that question. Letting her abdomen down on the ground, the drider slides a hand down where her human crotch would be, and the unmistakable form of a vagina protrudes out of the plated armor keeping it concealed. A carapaced finger slides along the labia, followed by another, and the drider lets out a sound resembling a cross between a throaty moan and screech of nails on stone.

"I'm sorry!" wheezes the drider between groans, "But using my pheromones always makes me... ah! Ah! Aaaah!"

Unsure of whether to be aroused or repulsed, you tiptoe away from the drider, trying to stay safe while not impolite at the same time. Small droplets of sticky substance fall from her frotting fingers, and as they hit the cave floor you hear the unmistakable hiss of smoldering rock. Sure, you'd heard that most females of species tended to make spermicidal secretions, but this... whatever the developers were smoking, you hoped that no one got the idea to include vore in this game.

"H-hide!" gasps the monster woman. "I-i-i-it's going to be a b-b-b-big o-o-o-on-ongh - "

That's all the warning you need. You grab the thrall, still heavy as ever and groggy from the unorthodox skill transfer, and try to pull her behind a stalagmite.

"Oi, scrub!" You turn, seeing the thug making his way in and rounding the corner. "Didn't I tell ya not to fuck things up?! I could hear yer fuckin' orgy from the other side of the swamp! Don't tell me you actually tried to bone one of these - "

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

"What in the - AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

You wince as a splatter of drider juices goes everywhere, marking the walls and floor, and on the Gritsheim bandit's raggedly protected arms and legs. The human sprawls on the ground, screaming as the acid eats through his threadbare clothes.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorr - oooongh..." The drider gasps as she feels her own afterglow. Unable to help yourself, you thump your head against the small pillar of rock behind you. This was already a long day, and it looks set to get even longer!