Odrun Fell

The Throne of Threadmire lies beyond a collapsed delver shaft once mapped by the Cudgel but sealed after a squad of tunnel-scribes vanished during a silkline survey last year. What they disturbed was not a swarm—but a single, massive, near-mythic predator: Sarneth’s Widow, a monstrous, parasitic spider-queen believed extinct. The Promissory tried to fund a retrieval of her silk for artifact weavers, but two failed expeditions later, even they went silent. Her chamber now serves as a deep-node lair—her web connects to dozens of hunting lines throughout the tunnel system. Her presence is felt in vanished labor crews, paralyzed delvers cocooned mid-stride, and the slow, spreading silence in once-busy arteries. The Widow doesn’t wander. She waits, she watches, and she feeds on those who think themselves safe in the dark.

The lair is a silken cathedral of dread—high-vaulted wood and marrow split by root-like beams, where every surface has been webbed, cocooned, or hollowed for nesting. Vast curtains of translucent silk ripple from above like tapestries of trapped screams, glistening in pale-blue glow from embedded fungal lanterns. Cocooned forms—some human, some monstrous—hang like ornaments, twitching now and then in deathless paralysis. The floor is layered in fine dust and shed carapace. A massive silken "throne" rises from a pit of resin and bone, covered in embroidered corpses and sewn shut with organic thread. At its center perches Sarneth’s Widow—silent, still, draped in her own webwork like a mourning matron waiting for her next child to arrive.