"Yuki was a quiet boy and though he didn't say much, he always was watching. One day he noticed how infatuated was his mentor Duane with the tiny mechanical spiders sold at an artificer's shop in Stormhaven. When the timing was appropriate, Yuki bought one of these expensive, magick-mechanical devices and gifted it to his dear friend. It was a charming contraption, clockwork and tin, designed to weave yarns and cloths for tailors. They decided to name it Boo. Duane was no tailor himself but he was a brilliant mage and enjoyed studying diverse thaumaturgical applications. He cherished the gift and Yuki was very pleased with himself.

Unfortunately, Duane was a zombie. His entire unnatural existence depended upon the strength of both the curse that condemned him as an imprisoned soul in his own body, and on his own powers, which struggled to keep that corpse from rotting so quickly he couldn't function. Magicks worked by men are never so very miraculous however, and even Duane's precious preservation powers faltered on occasion. It was on a black night that he found himself barely able to walk, speak, or move for the flaws in his dead body, and in a moment of frustration, he saw in the tiny spider a cruel correllation. Boo was a creature of magick, helplessly controlled, and so was Duane. The zombie crushed the tiny construct and ruined it. Metaphor and symbolism are potent things to miserable poets.

The next day however, Duane sorely regretted the deed and swore he'd do what he could to repair it. For a week he diligently researched summoning and clockwork, spiders and sorcery, and it was not long before he knew how he could undo his crime and salve his own soul. When he was ready, Duane gathered all of his research, the tools he would need, tiny sapphires for tiny spider eyes, the finest white silver for bristles, and strong steel and tin for components. All night he rebuilt the weaver's fragile carapace and unbent its legs, reshaped its crumpled abdomen and wound miles and miles of new silver silk into its little bulbous behind. When Boo was functional again, and its thin legs trembled with artificial life, Duane still wasn't satisfied. He held the shivering body close beneath his chin and summoned for it a soul and a life out of the magicks of the air and heart, and even out of a portion of his own eternal spirit. Little Boo was given its own will and its own capacity to love. Duane was very pleased. Now, though the spider might still be slave to magick and clockwork, it had the imagination that Duane had, and could imagine itself more than the sum of its parts."