*Mordred nods. A moment later the spider comes bursting into the clearing where the hunters are getting their kits together and latches onto one. The unlucky human screams as spider-Mordred wraps him up tightly.*

(That's one. Who wants ta be next?) *Far too many beady eyes stare at a man who's reaching for his gun, eight long legs tearing it from his grasp. The other hunters flee mindlessly as the would-be gunman loses his weapon and a few of his fingers.* (Ooh, snacks!)