When I was just a lad, lightning struck the old oak tree on my family farm. My old man turned the wood into a spear that I used to become the best Skitter hunter alive. I was in Egg Hexlar, facing off against a dozen or so of the workers and twice as many drones. I took most of them out, but as I impaled the last of the beasts, it took off, dragging me for miles through their tunnels. I finally was left with no choice but to let go, and let the foul beast run off with my lucky spear.