Engage the spider!

You feel that familiar adrenaline kick as strength surges into your limbs and you lunge forward, drawing a knife with each hand - one of the perks afforded by your orc blood is ambidexterity. With a practiced flick of your wrist, you fling the one in your left hand at the spider, aiming it at the exposed spot between its head and abdomen, but the knife doesn't quite go where you want it and ends up glancing harmlessly off the creature's carapace.

You swear loudly and bank sharply to the left to avoid running headlong into the spider, ending up not far from the elf, who's scrambled to his feet but doesn't seem to have any intention of running away - he's frozen in place, his gaze flicking between you and the spider. The beast rears up, keening horribly, and you see your chance. You surge forward with your right hand extended and strike, shoving the knife right into the chink in its armour that you identified earlier. The keening turns into a shriek of agony as the spider jerks and spasms in pain, and you smile as you feel the life beginning to leave its twisted frame.

But that smile flees your face when the spider jerks its head sharply downwards and embeds a huge fang in your arm.

You stagger back, recoiling in pain. The knife stays firmly lodged inside the spider as it finally gives up the ghost, but now your concerns are more immediate. The venom of the Darkwood spider is one of the most toxic things in the known world, and if you're not properly treated you will be dead within minutes.

You try to reach for your ointment pouch, but the black fluid seeping into the gash in your arm overtakes you and your arms go, followed swiftly by your legs, as you collapse to the floor. The elf stands over you, saying something in a voice you can no longer hear, and your vision begins to blur too. Then the agony seizes you, and unconsciousness, when it comes, is a mercy.

It's a miracle that you come around at all. Orcs don't have an afterlife. Which means that you must have... somehow... survived?