Hidden by the strands

[Brewer]

Smith sits quietly, alone and shadowed by concrete and steel. This place is cold and dead but oddly still alive. Ever changing. The weaver hard at work. He looks down at the spiderlings at his feet. "....my predatory nature is kicking in my friends. Too long has mother ignored me. I must prepare for the worst....and so should you." smith burst into his breed form and scurried off. The mass of terror moving through the shadows seem to collectively chitter,"the time is now"

[Brewer]

The creature known as smith walked the streets of down town. Calm, and steady he looked over the dwindling masses. He walked slowly into a near by yard and placed his hands on the ground palms up. Small scuffles could be heard as the grass seemed to come to life. His hands filled with all types of local arachnids. Smith raised them to his face and smiled. "..... can you feel it? The change in weather. A storm is on the move. Natural insticts begin to take control."you his flesh comes to life. It consumes the arachnids in his hands. ".......preperations are under way......."