The spider sat in their web, observing the eddies of the grand tapestry of karma.

Their hands were still raw and sensitive, the healing taking longer than it should have.

Absent-mindedly they picked at the shedding skin on their fingers, their gaze unfocused.

Suddenly a discordant note echoed through the empty void that was their home. Like the strings of a harp snapping all at once.

Four chitinous limbs exploded from beneath the skin of their back, immediately waving through the air at speeds too fast to observe.

Every minute twitch of the limbs wove a singular strand of karma into a great web.

The action could best be described as a spell, but in reality it was much simpler.

They wove a net of karma that did nothing but extend the length of the strings, adding length only to mute the vibrations.

The "father" would only feel the usual background vibration of the karmic strings, not the violent backlash caused by the death of hundreds of his angels.

Sadly a few "innocent" mortals would shoulder the backlash instead, their karma used to weave the dampening web.

"Sacrifices for the good of all" they whispered.

When they began their grand undertaking thousands of years ago, that saying had been genuine. Back then they had felt actual remorse whenever a mortal was a casualty in their machinations.

The millennia had desensitized and jaded them.

The mortals that suffered due to their plans, were the same mortals that worshiped the father. Willingly forsaking their morals in service to an all loving god.

They loathed them as much as they loathed their captor and creator.

Time in their empty prison passed without their notice. Even as an aspect of the divine they did not have the ability to notice the passing of time without something to look at.

And so they sat in the web, cradled in the strings of karma like a spider in its web. Both a prison and the only home they've ever known.

When the next disruption in the great tapestry came, they had already forgotten the last time.

They hoped that it was the one that they called “Burning scourge” in their mind. The prophecy spoke of slaughtered gods and they could think of no other beings that could cause such a commotion in the web.

That was why they were so surprised when it wasn't the burning newcomer that caused this commotion, but two new fates.

“No……. not new.” They whispered to themselves.

“Two new forces of destruction and creation.”

They saw as the strings of karma grow taut with tension, the two newcomers adding to their fate as if it was the last thing they'll ever do.

The spider chose not to peer along the strings of fate. They had learned the last time.

They began to cackle madly.

The next tie the father asked them about the future, they could honestly say that they did not know. And he'd be none the wiser.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Commander Doreos sat in his office, drinking tea and enjoying a slow evening.

Sadly it was not meant to last as the wooden office door opened with such force that it crashed into the wall. Or more accurately the pillows he had put behind the door to prevent this very thing.

Sadly his men were a bunch of brutes and had yet to figure out that door could be opened with less force.

As the door clattered to the ground, its hinges completely busted, one of his runners came in.

“Boss!Boss!Boss! Great news, the smart ones think we have our next payday!”

“Boss! Oi Boss! The smart….. Damn you were faster”

More and more of his men came squeezing into his office, until it was way over capacity. Had he not already been sitting, he would have struggled to find a spot.

The tiny well decorated office was overflowing with burly men and women of all types. Even his strategists were extremely wide.

Not for the first time Doreos wondered how he had managed to attract such a crew, himself being only a good 1.70m tall. He barely even weighed 80 kilos, while every one of his people weighed at least 120.

With well practiced ease Doreos slipped into his authoritative voice as the commander.

“Alright alright! Quiet down you lot, I was trying to enjoy my evening tea.”

Instantly the crowd of stereotypical goons quieted down, a few whispers of “Sorry boss!” or “Why didn't we wait till he was done?” brought a smile to his face. No matter how dumb and brutish they looked and acted, at the end of the day they were still his men.

Doreos gestured to one of his strategists, a massive man of at least two meters, with biceps as wide as his thighs. The only thing that made him stand out among the rest of the muscular crowd, was the expensive pair of glasses he wore.

Some among his strategists had had the brilliant idea to collectively wear glasses, as it would make them look smarter when they went to the brothels.

The burly bespectacled man stepped forward with a stack of paper in hand and cleared his throat.

Doereos was about to ask if he should address the group when the strategist finally managed to speak. In an obviously nervous tone, the strategist began:

“T-two weeks ago ah uhm… a squad of angels was reported.” The strategist cleared his throat, while the other occupants of the room made encouraging gestures. Not everyone was a natural when it came to public speaking.

“T-they went inland towards the uhm.. the wastelands. We-we all know what angel squads m-mean.” The strategist briefly pushed up his glasses and pulled at his collar, evidently speaking in front of this many people was taking a lot out of him.

Doreos was incredibly proud of his men. When they were on the field they fought like demons, but outside of combat they were some of the nicest most genuine people he had ever known.

“We just received word from one of our uhm… i-informants. The orc capital was hit by a surprise decapitation strike.”

Murmuring broke out among the crowd. Doreos frowned. While he was proud of the information network he had built up, such information wasn't something that arrived this fast. This must have been a less than stealthy attack.

Dorean stood from his chair, setting the tea cup on his desk. He walked in front of his desk and clapped the strategist on the back.

“Looks like we have our next payday.” Doeros watched the bloodthirsty grin spread across the faces of his people.

“Begin with preparations and rent some pack animals if possible. I know you lot like your training but time is of the essence. I want to be ready to move out at the end of the week!”

A thunderous “AYE SIR!” caused the tea cup to clatter on his desk.

Doreos grinned to himself. A war was just what his people needed. Maybe he'd even make it to tier 3 sometime soon.