To Live and Uplift Underground 15


Right, traveling and conflict underground.


Up until this point, I have mentioned how a homebase raid, uncommon as they were, went and how an immigration goes. The thing you have to understand is that either of these are highly unusual examples of conflict and, yes, traveling underground. They stretch the rules enough that they write whole books in of themselves. But what are the normal rules, then?


Firstly, all things being equal in the case of traveling, you always want to be roughly at the same elevation as the city is on. Never mind the risk of coming out of a wall of the city cavern and plummeting to your death; just the sheer trip to its ground level added a measure of complexity and vulnerability that nobody liked having to deal with. But not all things were equal and so there was no part in the caves around the city that outskirt drow wouldn’t be in.


Except, of course, for below it. Nobody wanted to be directly below the city.  Our underground was surprisingly porous and the city waste had to go somewhere.


You really, really, didn’t want that “where” to be where you slept. Or walked. 


Or breathed.


The other rule of thumb was distance. If you were a gang, you wouldn’t want the city to be so far away from you that getting there and back was practically an immigration all on its own. But you also didn’t want to be so close that you had to be on the lookout for all the outskirt drow that traveled to the city, chancing upon your safe space. Most of them aren’t traveling with raiding in mind, but if you roll a dice a hundred times, you are bound to get snake eyes at some point.


Not that there weren’t exceptions to these rules, or gangs that sat at the extreme end of the bell curve on both these cases, but these two factors largely shaped a lot of the traveling that happened. 


And because it shaped that, it also shaped the skirmishing that took place.


All gangs saw to their own safety first and foremost, so it was they actively explored and expunged their own surroundings. Knowledge was power even to drow in the Outskirts, and knowledge of the land might as well be magical knowledge for how comprehensively advantageous it was. So was it enough when a gang spelunked their near surroundings? 


Well, no.


After that, they needed to explore the surroundings of the other gangs.


Stopping a raid or, Metreal favor you, a homebase raid before they could even happen was the best way of doing so. The ideals, in short. A single squad of women could, with the right choke points and the right positions, theoretically stop a whole gang on their tracks. If the enemy gang didn’t know the lay of the land enough to circumvent the choke point. If the enemy gang didn’t know the exact numbers of the defenders to decide whether they could afford the worst case of an assault.


If the enemy gang wasn’t aware of the exact placements of your numbers enough to calculate the best case of said assault.


Knowledge.


The best defence for a gang was having more knowledge of their enemies than their enemies did of them.


The easiest way to gain this knowledge was simply by scouting. But the underground was neither a kind nor safe place and sometimes provided for situations where people couldn’t “just” scout. Sometimes, most of the time even, the best way to scout was to scout in force.


But since this was the best way, that meant practically all the gangs did it. So what happened when two scouts in force met?


We call that result “skirmishing”.


However-


“Fucking males,” the voice of a woman only 5 years my senior snarled as we heaped our bodies behind our weapons and put our bodies on the line.


“Absolute cowards.”


Besides me was a male that I thought I would never have reason to interact closely with again. In his hand was, being the first of its kind underneath the earth, a fungus fiber sling.


In mine was the second of its kind, rotating as I did a quick mental calculation and let a stone heave out of its pouch.


It missed the humongous mole trying to tear two other males to shreds.


The lack of practice with this weapon was evident to anyone who would care to watch, and every miscast made me wince. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Jon’in hadn’t been next to me.


All the last-minute practice that he got into evidently paid off, because the stones that he shot from his sling tended to crack ruinously against the floor or the wall when they missed. And when he impacted?


“SCREE!”


The mole screamed in anguish.


…or was that anger?


This close, it was hard to tell.


Ah, the infamous Stone Mole. Standing at nearly the size of a small bear, or a very large dog if you prefer, it was one of the reasons why Outskirt Drow even existed. As well as one of the reasons why we died.


Outfitted with thick claws nearly two feet long in length, and composing about a fifth of their body weight all on their own, these were moles that could, as the name implies, burrow through stone. 


They did it, too, with alarming alacrity and agility.


Like most moles, they too were blind; their “dark vision” was point in fact merely echolocation. They, therefore, had large ears and no visible eye holes.


They also had no hair except on their head, which I speculate helps with the echolocation, but I’m not really sure.


What I did know was that those claws on its front paws were deadly enough to literally tear whatever unlucky drow got within their range.


Like the two fuckers of our group who did not have slings in their persons.


With only whatever stones they managed to pick off the floor on our way to this place, the two other males of our squad were trying valiantly to not get caught. The stone mole ran after them with quick, short hops that were, nonetheless, not very useful at covering ground so we had yet to lose a single member of our group.


And yet that was not much consolidation, as these two guys were the only thing between the mole and me.


In many ways, most females wouldn’t have been surprised by Ri’isan’s outburst, naive as it was. Expect a male to throw themselves into an actual fight? It was easier to squeeze water out of a stone.


Yet the sole female member of our squad, its leader in short, had not directed that comment at the boys bravely fleeing from the mole.


She had directed it at the only two members actually managing to hurt it.


Or, to be even more specific, she had directed it at me.


“Don’t you have a stick?” she snarled as she slapped my shoulder, making me quit a cast mid-throw. The rock rolled out of the socket of a sling I had ripped one of my tunics to make, and clattered harmlessly into the floor, “Stop being a cowardly piece of shit and go slay it!”


It was absurd.


But then, the last few days had been.


The most dangerous thing an outskirt drow could meet underground was arguably another drow. Yet that did not mean that it was the only danger they had to be aware of. The various animals and monsters that also made their home underground provided a reason as to why “skirmishing” wasn’t synonymous with “screening.”


Being the “screen” ahead of the gang, we had to either inform or take care of the wildlife ahead of them ourselves. Three times already we’d had to do the latter but, thankfully, not the former.


It was clear by this point that Ri’isan wouldn’t have allowed us to “skirt off” on “properly” solving the issue ourselves.


“GO!” she pointed at the mole, her hand not quite going to the round iron mace at her side. 


“But-”I began to say, wanting to point at the welts and bruises me and Jon’in had already generated on the body of the mole.


However-


“Arione, just come and fight this fucking thing!” Stint, a boy actually two years younger than me, said as he ran from the mole.


-everyone seemed to have deduced what sort of score was being settled here.


I considered doing as Ri’isan said, if only because the frustration of my being alive for the last few days was apparently getting to her, but I spotted something.


“Stint, there’s a dip over that boulder! Go through it!” I yelled.


“What are you-” Ri’isan began to ask.


But while she did, my male cousin vaulted the boulder and over the dip. The mole following him, however, went around the boulder and stepped on it.


As soon as it did, it stopped.


Putting its face into the spot, it sniffed briefly as it took deep breaths of the earth and then, with a gleeful squeak, dug its claws into the soil there.


In seconds, a mole the size of a small bear disappeared into the ground below. The spot I had spotted had been the sole part of this tunnel that had been made of soft soil. While the danger we posed kept it from trying to escape by digging into the stone walls, the same was not true of just earth.


“Thank, Matreal,” Stint said as he clutched his chest, taking great heaving gulps of air.


“That was far too close,” Spooler said as he, too, almost collapsed against a wall not too far away.


Hunting stone moles “out of time” was tricky because they were not very active except in the aftermath of an earthquake. Facing them as we did might as well have been like winning the lottery for someone like Zinta, who could have properly dogged it and slayed it.


Being the main consumers of the great mushroom groves that grew underground, the Stone Mole could and did get just about anywhere to nibble at the roots and blooming parts of the underground fungi. However, in response, a lot of fungi groves had taken to growing mushrooms that could detach from the wall and come after them like roaming murderous farmers.


Why these mushroom monsters were bipedal and sort of looked like a drow-or human I suppose- except with a mushroom head, I did not know. But after a mushroom grove developed enough, they would have these defenders everywhere. It was, thus, common for the Stone Moles to go into states of semi-hibernation where they slept their time away.


They awaited earthquakes to come and bury the groves, and their defenders, in earth and stone that they could then unearth at will and devour.


Seeing as it had been 5 years since we’d experienced our last earthquake, it was strange to see one active in an open tunnel like this. But then, across a large enough time span, anything and everything could and did happen.


“You let it go,” Ri’isan growled, and I twitched as she almost pulled the mace out of her waist.


Thankfully, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.


When she opened them, there was no murder in them. Just intense dislike, “We keep going.”


The first three gribblies that the drow males and I had to face had been of the mushroom Defender variety. Even just one provided more challenge than all four of us together could hope to overcome, yet the sling that I quickly made to compensate for our otherwise and total lack of equipment made up for much.


Ri’isan hadn’t said anything at first. She must have been amused by the sight, I think. But after enough pelting from a distance that offered us enough time to run away, that first defender had seemingly decided to give up and vacate the area.


As had the second.


And the third.


But here was a monster who was not only trapped, but who could force me into fighting. The fact that I had found a way for it to escape didn’t do me any favors.


And yet…I was not sure for how long I could keep this up.


The defenders escaped far from the route that our gang would be traveling through; no matter how much Ri’isan might want it, she could not afford to leave the area just to have me bravely kill myself. No matter what Aunt Kan’a had promised or threatened her with, my mother would not have forgiven her if a single “harmless” monster slipped through our screen and got to the gang.


But the days were dragging on. We were nowhere near the time when we would have to go back to switch with another crew, but I could feel that we were getting dangerously close to the end of my female cousin’s tether.


“What did you do?” Jon’in, not for the first time, whispered to me as he slid next to me. He was the male who, not too long ago, I had made the sling that he had slid next to me as we continued our patrol.


He was the only one.


Stint and Spooler stuck close to the only female present with us, as if that would garner them any favors. By this point, it was clear to everyone that our “leader” wanted an accident to happen to me.


But it surprised me that they didn’t realize that our composition was no accident:


Out of everyone there, I was the only one who was a proper blooded member of Aunt Kan’a’s gang. And I was “merely” a man.


Also being males, they had far less value than that. 


And yet, they acted as though their inherent discardability wasn’t a factor in them being here. That, while the one who’d actually had the most meaningful effect on the wildlife that we met, Jon’in, freely mingled with me. 


“It’s better that you not get involved in it,” I told him, even as I didn’t inform him how unwise being social with me could be. We were all making bad decisions that day.


“If I kill one of the monsters, I’ll be blooded, right?” he whispered back and, unlike when I met him, there was not a single trace of worry in his tone. The last few days had been good for his confidence. “That means I’ll properly join Aunt Kan’a’s crew, like you. You won’t be able to stop me from finding out what you did then. It’s only a matter of time.”


Compared to two other males in our squad, Jon’in might as well have been a female. And, compared to me, he still shone bright; his ability with a weapon that was hard to use and notoriously hard to master was commendable. Yet, had we been in any other situation, had this screening been for real instead of an excuse to have me have an accident, he might have been right to believe his chances.


As it was, Ri’isan had yet to even draw her weapon while we fought.


Because we weren’t here to gain glory.


And, yet.


“...maybe you will,” I said. If Jon’in really did, would Ri’isan seriously overlook his value, even with her task at hand? I seriously hoped not. Unwise of me as it was, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that she would just waste his ability out of sheer frustration.


“But it doesn’t matter,” I shook my head, “If you like, I’ll owe you a favor if, when, you manage that.”


“Ah!” Jon’in said, “A favor from the gang’s Craftson!”


I frowned, “Is that-are people really calling me that?”


“Well, no,” he admitted, “People are calling you our resident craftdrow.”


“But Craftson sounds better, in my opinion,” he said, “Since you're the gang’s son.”


“You know, like us.”


“Quit. The. Chatter,” Ri’isan annoyedly huffed, “Or am I going to make you incapable of it?” 


Jon’in threw his arms in the air, showing his empty hands in defeat. The sling that I made for him was tied around his arm, and it actually looked quite good how he had it. Sting and Spooler stared at it with envy, as if they could perform like him if they had it.


To their credit, they did not look at the sling that I made for myself like that; they were too afraid to associate with me to want it.


Ri’isan looked at me speculatively, “You, Arione, go to the front.”


“You want me to lead?” I frowned.


“Lead?” she all but ground her teeth, “Do you think I’m not?”


I almost answered that. Almost. But my survival instincts thankfully held back my tongue.


“You don’t think I don’t know what you are doing, do you?” she asked, “Letting those two chuffs always go first so that you don’t have to? Well, I won’t have it!”


“You are going to stop being a cowardly bastard if it's the last thing you do, do you understand?” she very seriously said.


And what could I do?


“I understand,” I sighed.


I saw her hand twitch at the lack of respectful fear but, like I said, this was just absurd. Then again, it provides me some amusement now to think about how it must have seemed to her:


There she was, hoping to curry favor with a crew lead, yet continuously failing at getting a single weak male killed.


Such a thing happened regularly enough that she must have been thinking that it would take no effort at all. And yet, days later, there I was, proving how unlucky she was.


Or how incompetent.


Either way, I understood how closely I was cutting things and, not for the first time, I began to look for ways to “disappear”. Unfortunately for me, Ri’isan was as good at keeping an eye on me as she was bad at getting me dead.


Fortunately for me, this state of affairs would reverse itself soon enough.


Two days later, we set camp ahead of the night. Unlike the beginning of the week, we did not meet any other monsters while staying ahead of the gang. The route that we were going on was picked precisely because it would not cross many other gangs, but the route should have been replete with dangerous fauna.


And yet, for some reason, they were missing.


It was as if they were clearing this area.


This meant that the fight that would force me to put my life on the line had yet to come.


But it also meant that Ri’isan was at the end of her rope.


Every day that I was alive left her more frustrated. Angrier.


But also, it left her more worried.


I had no doubt that she would kill me herself if she felt she had to, but silencing every other member of this crew would have been hard. The casualties that they must have expected us to incur had not happened. That meant that if she wanted to leave no witnesses to her murder, she would have to kill us all one way or another.


Females like her were supposed to be able to do that. But she didn’t seem enthused.


And yet, she found an answer that, in retrospect, should have been obvious.


“Arione,” she said as me and the other three males set up the tent that we all shared, “I am going to need you to do something.”


“I stand ready to obey,” I replied as I stopped helping.


“I think we are close to Blind Mushrooms,” she said, waving in an ambiguous direction, “so we are going to need something to burn.”


We weren’t; areas near Blind Mushrooms are cold even during the day. But then, it didn’t matter whether she was telling the truth or not. This was stage acting for the males, “I am going to need you to gather roots.”


“...from the supposed Blind Mushroom groove that you think is nearby?” I asked, not being able to stop myself from expressing my disbelief, “Just as night is falling?”


“It’s for the good of all,” for the first time since we began screening, Ri’isan smirked, “That is, unless you are feeling particularly rebellious?”


“Well, are you?” she asked, caressing her mace.


I consider her and her weapon for a moment.


And then I shrugged, “If it's for the good of all, I’ll certainly have to go.”


“...you understand that if you come back empty-handed, that I’ll just send you back out, yes?” she asked, not looking confident all of a sudden.


“Oh yes, better to die in duty than live in failure,” I waved the matter aside as if it didn’t matter, “I have no problem with that.”


“...good,” her jaw clicked shut as she looked as if she were trying to figure out what she missed.


“Well then, I’ll be back,” I grabbed my bag and started heading off.


Only to be stopped by the one guy who didn’t seem to hate me.


“Will you really?” he asked worriedly.


“Did you not figure out what this whole thing is about?” My eyebrows rose.


“No!” he furtively said, “Nobody tells me anything! Why would you-”


“Jon’in, if you care so much, why not go with him?” Ri’isan, at the end of her patience, barked.


“I mean-that is-I don’t-” Jon’in backed off and tried to come up with a good excuse.


“It’s fine, cousin,” I stopped him, “It really is.”


“I alone will be fine for this task, wouldn’t you say, Aunt Ri’isan?” I asked my female cousin.


Her eyes slanted as she studied by, in the end, she said, “I suppose it is.”


“You,” she pointed at Jon’in, “Get back to work.”


“And you,” she pointed at me, “Get going.”


“I curtsey, cous-Aunt,” I actually did curtsey before heaving my sack and getting out of there.


Even if there were a mushroom groove nearby that I could pilfer for roots, it would have been impossible for me to collect enough to get a good fire going before the time arrived. No, more than that, even IF I had, Ri’isan could just have said it was not enough, no matter how much I gathered and sent me back out.


The only tent that we had was the one that they were sleeping in. Without that, I was sure to freeze to death tonight.


Ri’isan, it seemed, had finally found a good solution that could keep her hands clean, and keep whatever rumors my male cousins made of this event as nothing more than just idle male chatter.


It was something she could have come up with the first day we set out to screen the gang, instead of having to suffer the anxiety of failing repeatedly to kill a lone non-combatant, but late was better than never, I suppose.


In the end, it didn’t matter.


Having never stopped paying attention to them, I headed directly to where I knew that Jarn’at and Younger Talia had been trailing after us.


I found them in the middle of setting up camp.


“You got away?” Talia blinked before a brilliant smile blazed on her face, “I knew you would!”


“I-” Jarn’at, meanwhile, nonchalantly said, “-never doubted that he would.”


“Bitch, if you are going to be that uncaring, you should leave him to me!” Younger Talia hissed.


“Little niece,” Jarn’at said with a smug smile, “as hard as this might be to believe, I am the one who cares the most.”


“That’s why I could believe that Arione could safely get away from them,” Jarn’at said as she looked at me with pride.


I won’t lie, it made my guilt flare up.


“If I hadn’t, I would have gone and killed them all myself,” she pointed in the direction from which I had left my squad.


“That’s not-” I choked.


“Damn it,” Younger Talia huffed, “Why didn’t I think of that?”


I looked at them.


And then I sighed, this time in defeat, “Yes, fine, ok. But, um, what now?”


“Now I take you back/present you to grandma,” both Jarn’at and Younger Talia said at the same time.


And here things broke down.


“You know, it might be best if we decide this in the morning,” Jarn’at casually said as she slowly pulled her stave close to her arms.


“I couldn’t agree more, auntie,” Younger Talia agreed with the same tone as she put her hand at her waist, where the copper axe that I made her was, “Point in fact, Arione should come into my tent quickly, before nightfall comes.”


“What a coincidence,” Jarn’at replied, “I was going to say the same thing.”


Both had brought their own tents with them.


Both had no intention of sharing; the one whose tent I slept in would be able to sneak away with me at an undetermined time.


The air grew thick with their conflict, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the first blow was struck.


I had to stop this.


“My squad is not so far away that it would be impossible for them to find us if you settle things here and now,” I hissed at them.


Doubt for the first time crept into their faces and I sighed in relief as I knew that I had them, “Surely we can all sleep in the same tent to make things fair?”


“I-I guess,” Younger Talia frowned.


“...only for tonight,” Jarn’at said.


There, I had done it.


I had defused this fight. At least for now.


I wouldn’t be able to keep it off forever, but for now, for tonight, we would be able to sleep safe-


I felt it then.


We all did.


A slight tremor that slowly grew until it felt as if my sense of balance had been disrupted.


That tunnels shook.


The walls shook.


The earth moaned.


“Earthquake,” I said.


The faces of my cousins reflected my horror.