One of the locals...

Trepidation and fear fills your body, but you can't help yourself. You creakily turn your neck behind you to where you heard the voice, a distinct unease permeating your mind. Taking a glance upwards, your wide open eyes meet another pair of eyes - and another pair, glistening in the cave's darkness.

"...!" You don't even have the voice to scream, instead backpedaling as quick as you can, futilely against the sloping sides of the cave wall. Blinking, you slowly begin to make out the quaint facial features of a woman: a small nose and dainty mouth, oddly paired with two sets of glittering black eyes, framed by a long flowing crop of dark hair strangely reminiscent of spiderweb. But that's not the most striking characteristic - as your gaze travels down her pale lavender skin, you see her lower arms, slender bosom and post-midriff covered by distinctly insect-like carapace, and where a shapely pair of human legs might have been, the region past her navel is instead occupied by a bulging arachnid abdomen, complete with eight spindly yet sturdy legs. Instantly you go into panic mode, which amounts to little more than scrabbling against more insurmountable cave wall.

"I couldn't help but notice," says the drider, an oddly inquisitive look on her face. "But you wouldn't by any chance be non-player characters, would you? You don't seem to have come from Griever's Swamp, at least."

"N-n-n-n-n-n-no, ma'am, er I mean miss," you gabble. Still, nothing prepares you for what happens next.

"Oh, thank goodness! You don't know how relieved that makes me!" You stare - out of all the expressions you believed a drider could make, gushing was not one of them.

"When we heard fighting outside, we thought there was going to be another raid going on. But you were the ones who fought them, weren't you? And you saved us all!" continues the excited half-spider woman.

"Uh... you're welcome?"

"You have no idea! We thought that since the corruption set into the forest we had a new place to live in peace. But wouldn't you know it, someone guessed that the swamp might have properties specific to magical practitioners, especially to those in the dark arts. And ever since then it's been raid after raid after raid!" groans the drider. "I mean, why us? It's not like we go out of our way to attack players or anything. ...But you came and saved us from those raiders, didn't you? And out of the goodness of your decision pathways!"

"About that... you see, the truth is - "

You thumb through the explanatory paragraphs, thankfully now a part of your innate lore and easily retrievable.

"Well! That certainly sounds very interesting indeed. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it, but I'm definitely not complaining about the results," says the drider. "I was wondering what that flickering window off the side of your head meant." Of course - with the inventory and argument on your mind, you'd completely forgot to check your stats. Promptly you bring them up:

You are now Level 8!
MP +10!
Melee attack +2!
Ranged attack +2!
Defense +1!
Magic Defense +6!
Agility +2!
New Special Ability!
Concussion - Attack a target for damage equal to 2MAtk with a 80% chance of inflicting Skill Seal for 1 turn. 10 MP. (Class Penalty (Magic Alignment) - your chance of inflicting Skill Seal is reduced to 40% instead.)

Even with the nerf, you admit to yourself that is pretty practical. Moving on, you check on the dazed thrall:

You are now Level 9!
MP +6!
Melee attack +3!
Ranged attack +3!
Defense +4!
Magic Defense +1!
Agility +2!
New Special Ability!
Lightwalker - Your Agility is immune to Weapon and Skill debuffs and can't be affected by Terrain penalties. (Class Penalty (Troll) - Your Agility is affected by 50% less instead.)
Summon Upgrade - Your Summoned familiars last for 6dLevel minutes instead.

"Ummmph." You take a step back as the thrall rouses (triggered by your checkup, perhaps?), groggily putting a hand to her mop of hair. "Where... what..."

"Easy, easy!" Carefully, you bring her to a seated position. "That battle took a lot out of you."

"The battle... The battle! What happened?! The last thing I remember is smelling the scent of elf, and then - " Frantically turning around, the thrall catches sight of you and the drider behind. "That does it. Now I know we're dead or dreaming."

"Oh, not at all! Why would I want to do anything to hurt the ones who saved our lives?"

Warily the thrall looks back at you. "You want to bring me up to speed?"

"There's something that I still don't get," you say after another round of explanations. "What was that all about with the elf? I didn't see anything about racial bonuses or the like in your stats..."

"Not everything is encoded in stats, gnome," mutters the thrall. "I told you, those like me have a history that exists even if we don't remember any of it. Whatever happened in mine must have resurfaced." You look as she dejectedly buries her face against her knees, unsure of what to say.

"If I may - not to say that all this isn't interesting or anything, but I was wondering," the drider pipes up. "Where do you all intend to go from here?"

"Actually, we don't have any idea," you confess. "For now it looks like we're winging things as we go along, but I'm not sure how much more risks we can take. Maybe we've been overly lucky so far."

"Hmmmm..." Thoughtfully the drider rubs her lower lip with an armored finger, then brightens up with a smile. "I know!"