Disclaimer: This is a disclaimer. It states that none of the below is in any way science. It says it in a very witty way, one that will make you laugh uncontrollably the second you read it. And you will not stop laughing. Ever. Also, don't own it.
(Oh, yeah... There was supposed to be a joke here... um. Give me a second. Wait, look, what's that over there? It's a transition! *runs away*)
*Watches jacobakc run away.* Well...guess I'm writing the story now. Enjoy! ~f
poof.
In the woods there was a boy. This boy had a club. He also had a sword, a spear, what basically amounted to a lightsaber, a spear that was kind of a lightsaber, a large leaf, as well as a rod that shot lightning. And a mop, for some reason.
The boy was currently trying to kill a goat with said mop. This was going about as well as you'd expect. Well, as long as you factored the horse into things, that is.
Cl-a-clop cl-a-clop cl-a-clop SMACK! Bleeeeeeat...Cl-a-cl-thud cl-a-clop cl-a-clop. NEIGH! (The horse did that every time it stopped suddenly. The boy secretly thought it enjoyed the drama.)
Look at that. A mop could kill a goat in one shot. And now there was more meat for the roast tonight!
Oh, crap, he's coming back. HIDE!
poof!
(I come back to goat killing and a poorly sorted Zelda fanfic. I am never leaving you alone again.)
That's what he thinks.
Catalyst
During his time imprisoned in terran flesh, there were very few moments where Abathur could have described himself as happy. The moment he saw the boggart, and the moment he consumed it. The time his hands had ripped into the basilisk's flesh, exposing the essence within. Today was looking to be another one of those rare moments. Abathur had been waiting for this day for a very, very long time. For nearly a year he'd been spinning essence, learning magic, and evolving the Hive in preparation for this assault. And now, finally, everything had come together.
As he walked through the Forbidden Forest, sneaking past the domains of creatures who would have attacked without a second thought, his smile only grew wider. More prey, more essence. But they could wait for later; at the present, he had somewhere to be. He moved stealthily forward, accompanied only by the rustling of leaves, and the occasional insectoid buzz. Within him viruses, bacteria, toxins and acids, flowed within him, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Even as he walked, he worked to further improve these weapons. Perfection was a moving goal, after all.
As the light shining through the leaves became more and more rare, the cover above and below was slowly becoming covered in more and more strands of silky web. Abathur could see spying spiders scurrying around him, disappearing into cracks and shadows when they felt his attention. The Hive followed, and ensured that these spies did not come back out.
It took only a few more minutes before the expansive web, home of the acromantulas, came into view. They were skittering through the web-covered branches, chittering as they bore witness to Abathur's silent march. With every step he took toward the web, more and more acromantulas poured out of the darkness. Soon enough, the largest of the horde emerged, peering through milky pupils at Abathur's own green eyes. Then, in a rasping voice, he spoke.
"What an interesting manling," Aragog said. "It is rare enough for one of your kind to be found in our hollow, but to return of your own will...you are truly an odd one. Tell me, what brings you back into our home?"
Abathur didn't respond, standing silently before the towering acromantula. If Aragog was expecting anything else, he did not show it.
"Nothing to say?" Aragog asked. "Very well. If it is your desire become a meal, then I will not deny my children your flesh."
With that, the acromantulas surged forward. On both sides of Abathur, an acromantula pounced forward, intent on sinking their fangs into his flesh. Two of them were but a foot away when Abathur acted.
Snick.
In a blur, two new limbs extended from Abathur's back; gray, spindly things, ending in thin, vicious blades. The scythe limbs impaled the two spiders through the top of their heads and continued down, pinning them to the ground. Only then did Abathur speak, with a deep, reverberating tone that could never have come from a human throat.
"Your weakness, unacceptable. Will correct."
(Transition)
"Ah, Albus," Ollivander peered at his visitor from behind thick lenses. "This is a pleasant surprise."
Dumbledore made his way through the dust of Ollivander's wand shop to where the old wandmaker stood. "Garrick, it is good to see you again. I hope you don't mind me popping in."
"Not at all, not at all," Ollivander waved dismissively. "It's always a pleasure to have visitors, especially this time of year. Now, what can I do for you, Albus?"
"Unfortunately, this is a little more than a social call," Dumbledore said. "I read that you were friends with the Jaren family. I was wondering what you could tell me about them."
The change in Ollivander was sudden. His faint smile disappeared. He began fiddling with his wand absentmindedly, and his eyes darted rapidly around the shop, refusing to look Dumbledore in the eyes. "And where, exactly, did you read that?"
"Their obituaries," Dumbledore said in a solemn tone.
"I suppose that would do it," Ollivander grimaced. "And what precisely do you want to know about the Jarens?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out," Dumbledore replied. "I have reason to believe the Jarens' family history may help me to understand some rather odd things that have been occurring of late." At that, Ollivander's hands froze. His wand dropped through stiff fingers, clattering to the floor.
"It didn't just fail," Ollivander muttered. " Of course it didn't. Why couldn't it just have failed?"
"What didn't just fail?" Dumbledore asked, but Ollivander wasn't paying attention to him anymore.
"Where did we go wrong?" Ollivander asked the ceiling, seeming to ignore Dumbledore entirely, "Why did it have to go so wrong?"
"Garrick!" Dumbledore all but shouted. "What are you talking about?"
This seemed to finally get through to Ollivander. His eyes refocused on Dumbledore, and he seemed to regain much of his composure. "Sorry, Albus. I had hoped that particular incident was long buried. I thought, after their child showed up, right as rain, I thought that everything could move on."
"Their child?" Dumbledore said. "Garrick, what do you know about Thenabar?"
(Transition)
Abathur telekinetically caught three acromantulas in the air, twisted their heads off with a thrust of psionic energy and three brief cracking noises, then tossed them aside. His hand darted out, grabbing the chin of another spider before pumping its brain full of venom. It spasmed briefly, before collapsing in a heap. A cutting curse sent an acromantula crashing through the branches, as it suddenly found itself with only half its legs. Abathur caught another acromantula midair with his scythes, spearing it with both blades, before ripping the attacker in half. The slabs of flesh fell on either side of Abathur as he scanned the makeshift arena for new targets.
It took barely a second before more acromantulas came at him, fangs ready to pierce flesh. Abathur tore through them like a natural disaster. Bodies were scattered around Abathur, twisted, shredded, and filled with holes.
"What do you hope to accomplish here?" Aragog asked from his perch on the web. "My children hopelessly outnumber you. You can not fight them all off all on your own, try as you might, and yet you have made no move to escape. Are you truly this arrogant?"
"Extermination by self, unnecessary," Abathur replied, as another acromantula was crushed in midair. "Test of acromantula capabilities. Found lacking."
"And yet, you stand alone, ready to be consumed by us 'lacking' acromantulas. I was not aware that manlings came with such a poor grasp of reality," Aragog said.
"Do not sense them?" Abathur asked. "Sensory organs, insufficient. Will improve. No more tests required." The buzz that had accompanied Abathur since he first set foot in the woods rose dramatically in volume. It spread and surrounded the central web. Several distinct pitches rose to the surface, and the shadows became alive with the thrum of billions of wings
The Hive emerged from the bushes and the earth, covering the dirt in a carpet of insects. New spiders ran on the acromantulas webs in vast numbers, devouring the few remaining spies. Their mandibles dug into the webs, twisting them into vast arrays of runes. Clouds of flyers swooped and swarmed above. Every single member of the deadly Hive, waiting for the command to attack, to kill.
(Transition)
"Ah, Thenabar. Rowan wood, 13 inches, acromantula silk, good for transfiguration. Perfectly fine, both the boy and the wand. No scars like the rest of them," Ollivander said. He was only half-paying attention to Dumbledore.
"Garrick, I still have no idea what you are you talking about," Dumbledore said.
"Oh, yes, I suppose you wouldn't," Ollivander said, refocusing on Dumbledore. "We tried to stop him too, you know. Towards the end, everyone was petrified. Then we, that is, the other people helping with the ritual, heard about your Order of the Phoenix."
"We could hardly sit idly by while others did the fighting for us. And before we knew it, we had our own group, and our own goal. No name for it though; unfortunately no one came up with anything good," Ollivander continued to ramble. "But Adeviar had the notes, and we had the expertise to summon it."
"Summon what?" Dumbledore asked, thoroughly lost.
"Oh, right yes, haven't mentioned that yet.," Ollivander said. "We were trying to summon something that could defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
(Transition)
The whole of the Hive paused for one pregnant moment, waiting for the command that would unleash them.
Then, with barely a thought, Abathur released them. And the Hive descended on their prey.
The Hive rampaged through the acromantula hordes. The spiders were completely helpless against their smaller opponents. Any attempt to bite the endless swarms either had no effect, or missed, giving the Hive the opportunity to climb up and lay thousands of burning bites upon the acromantulas. The pincers of the Hive's soldiers dug deep into every weak point of the hardened acromantula carapace. Joints became gates for the Hive to attack.
Some of the arachnids attempted to run, only to find themselves caged within their clearing by a shimmering dome of magic. Abathur made a note of these would-be escapees. They were either the smart ones or the fearful ones. He would find out which later.
The previously indomitable hordes of the acromantula crumbled like dry leaves. Swirling bees and butterflies all but blinded the acromantulas, leaving them unable to regroup, and unable to defend from the hail of projectiles slaughtering them. Abathur barely had to lift a finger at this point; the numbers and the surprise of the Hive's attack made the acromantulas defeat all but certain.
Abathur took a step out of the combat, and walked over to some of the less intact acromantula corpses. While the Hive overwhelmed the survivors, he took a moment to devour some of the corpses' flesh, taking in their essence. It was extremely similar to the already assimilated spiders, requiring almost no effort to convert into a zerg creature, and even less to add those modifications to a virus.
He took a deep breath, and held it momentarily. It came out as a thick green mist which quickly spread. Bacteria in its path became factories, churning out more and more mist. A fog quickly spread across the battlefield. It seemed almost alive, concentrating and pouring into the dead and dying acromantulas. Then, one of them began to twitch.
(Transition)
"Oh, it wasn't the best idea, I can see that now. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and, often times, those aren't good measures," Ollivander explained, only half-present. "So we prepared the circle for the better part of four months, got all the ingredients, memorized our parts. We finally had hope, an end to work for. If anyone can imagine the joy we felt when everything was done, it would be you, Albus. We thought it was finally going to be over. The terror, the murders, wondering whether or not you would live out the day, all of it."
Ollivander paused and took a shuddering breath. He continued in a much more somber tone. "To this day, I still don't know where it all went wrong."
Dumbledore approached the suddenly much smaller Ollivander, and put a hand on his shoulder. "What happened, Garrick?" he said softly. "I need you to tell me."
Ollivander let out a weak laugh. "That's the thing, I barely even remember it, just the aftermath. Half of us were dead, twisted bits of flesh. I worked with them for months, and I didn't even recognize them," He began to choke up. Dumbledore moved closer, reassuring Ollivander, but it still took several seconds for him to continue
"And for the rest of us, we had more subtle wounds. Vivira kept getting weaker, until she died in childbirth. Adeviar had to go back to curse breaking to avoid the stares, he was so scarred. Faris got paranoid, especially after Vivira passed away. He even sent Thenabar off to the muggles. Of course, that paid off in the end, so I can hardly criticize the decision. As for me, well, you know me. I barely even leave the shop nowadays," Ollivander said. "And the worst part is, we didn't even get anything for it. All that work, all that pain, and we got nothing."
(Transition)
All across the clearing, dead acromantulas littered the ground. Some of the fallen were stretching out new legs, blinking new eyes, moving with new purpose. These resurrected acromantulas were almost entirely ignored by the Hive. Each new member of the Hive waited but a moment before throwing themselves back in the fray. The survivors hadn't been faring well before, but now with former family and friends attacking them, they fell like leaves in a hurricane.
Even the rare few acromantula that fought without hesitation or gentleness against their fallen brethren were overpowered by sheer numbers. The only thing they gained was Abathur's notice. That ferocity could be a useful trait to spread.
"Defiler! You take my children, kill them, and deprive their flesh from the rest of us! Foul being! May you rot in the webs of Anu'barak!" Aragog cried, beyond mere rage by this point. He had begun to attack the Hive himself, but this would not prolong his independence.
From a human standpoint, Abathur could almost see this as amusing. These creatures, so self-important, so seemingly powerful, but brought to annihilation. A year ago, the acromantulas had held Abathur's life in their mandibles, but now, he had theirs. Before, they were nearly terrifying, a near unreachable goal. Now, when Abathur looked at them, all he could see was flaws, weaknesses, ways to improve. They seemed almost infinitesimally small.
Even the largest, Aragog as it called itself, was nothing more large, and old. Even as the elder acromantula slashed through his forces without mercy, Abathur saw a dozen ways to kill it. He took advantage of all of them. Aragog fell from his perch among the webs without fanfare, without glory. Just an empty shell of a being, at least until Abathur infested and improved it. These spiders, once so threatening, were now just pathetic.
(Transition)
"The aurors came after that, but they were sympathetic. We all kept in touch for awhile, but Vivira died, Faris was murdered, and Adeviar spends more time in Egypt than Britain. I'm not sure how that helps you, but when you mentioned strange occurrences and the Jarens..." Ollivander gave a half shrug. "I'm not sure how it helped, but I hope it did regardless."
"Thank you, Garrick. I know that couldn't have been easy to share," Dumbledore said.
"No, thank you for listening. I've been needing to get that off my chest for a while," Ollivander responded. He started to return to his work, bending down to pick up the dropped wand. Dumbledore was on his way out the door, only to turn back once he reached it.
"Are you absolutely certain that the ritual failed? That nothing was summoned?" he asked.
Ollivander furrowed his brow. "Certainly nothing tangible. The aurors found nothing but us at the scene. You should ask Adeviar though; he knows the ritual better than me."
Just as Dumbledore was about to close the door, Ollivander spoke up. "Albus, if we did succeed, somehow... be careful. If the ritual ended like that…"
Ollivander didn't seem to have the heart to finish that thought.
(Transition)
The formerly great web lay in ruins. Acromantula corpses littered the ground, with only the more intact ones rising again. The rest were used as food for the newly-born Zerg, useful in death as they had been in life. The battle was over. The only thing left was carnage, gore, and, of course, the beginning of Abathur's new brood.
The acromantula essence had promise that Abathur could use. And he intended to use that potential to its fullest. Given time and resources, he could grow them to a force that would almost compare to a true Zerg brood. He would evolve them, mutate them, make them great. He would them to new essence, weave it into their flesh and bone. Already, a dozen possibilities sprang forth for what he could do with them.
It was almost as though Abathur was home. Almost.
The itsy-bitsy spiders were living in the woods
Feasting on anything and everything they could
Then out came the master with blades of DNA
And now those little spiders serve the Swarm in every way
Acromantulas: Giant spiders of the magical world, acromantulas are nightmare fuel for arachnophobes across the globe. Those gargantuan arachnids are believed to have been originally made by wizards, as a form of guardian for treasure or dwellings. Whatever their origins, Acromantulas have since bred and wandered, now inhabiting much of the rainforests of southeast Asia, although they have been spotted elsewhere. Acromantulas act much like more mundane spiders, weaving massive domed webs, and feasting on their prey with toxic venom and massive fangs. Unlike their smaller cousins, Acromantulas are known to be highly social, forming massive colonies in which the elder rules among their children. Acromantulas are every bit the nightmare that the term giant spiders suggest. Make acromantula great again! feauxen doesn't need approval to add his two cents!