Now, the good news was that this was not one of the worlds were the Spider Queen was a thing. Oh, the Drow were still a matriarchal culture full of somewhat misandrist amazons, but that's the other thing. The drow in the city, with the fancy magic and the great weapons and armor, not to mention special training? Yeah, it was the rich and mighty that got to live in the great caverns of plenty, them, their servants and slaves. The valuable people. Out on the edges, in conditions that were somewhere between wilderness and slum? You have the gangs.

Not clans, because proper clans are for the city. But still, groups bound by ties of blood, by the fact that everyone can trace their line back to some mother. Because drow were as fertile as humans, making us explosive breeders by elven standards. We needed to be, to survive down here. And on the outskirts, in the tunnels and little caves? We needed all the advantages we could get, as gang strove against gang in raids and skirmishes, as the most cunning and successful sought to become bandits. And those that lived long enough, got strong enough? Well, the dream was always to buy their way into a city.

But, that was a female dream. Because let me tell you, because even if the spider queen wasn't a thing locally? There was a world of difference between the sexes. Women were bigger, stronger and more attuned to magic. Women could in time give birth to a gang of their own, while us lowly males? We could only ever grovel and join up with someone else's. But still, even a male had value. We could carry things, were a body that could swing a rock or stick, or just do the tasks as directed by the superior females in our lives.

We were still fed, still clothed... but us boys? Well, we learned the pecking order fast. It being beaten into us by our sisters, aunts, nieces and cousins our age was approved of, encouraged even by our elders. Why wouldn't it be, when it accomplished the dual purposes of making sure that those in power remained there, and that there was a nice servile population on hand given how we couldn't keep any slaves. Those had to be fed after all, and there was barely enough food and water to go around as it was.

So, my being more taciturn, withdrawn and quiet than normal for a young male? Hardly worthy of attention. Granted, maybe being more social would have been a smart thing, but that was it. Sure, I was probably being a surly teenager, or the elven version of one anyway, but I had dreams of going anywhere else, of eventually leaving all of this behind. Going where? No idea. Better than here, but somewhere I could learn, somewhere were my hunts didn't need to be as restricted, hidden from the others, because there was proper initiative to show for a male and there was something that would get you used as an example.

But, I had tasks to do, having been roped into being the male carrying the extra ammunition, loot and assorted items of my cousin Quellin, who was holding court among other girls her age, all noteworthy in that they have spears of mushroom wood with crude stone tips in place. Shit things, but then easy enough to make, to scrounge up some of the various parts and to leave them by her little section, where it seem she was building up a little warband inside the gang.

True, I was hiding some things, but not so well that others in the gang would not be somewhat aware. And serving her was not too bothersome. I came when called, even as my fingers sought out the little holds, as I began to climb up to my ledge. It was away from the others, but it was not just where I slept. I'll admit, I lived in mild fear of the day when the elders, or even just those my age, climb up and discover the crude alchemy equipment, the little hidden caves where I grew certain kinds of fungi.

Some of which I 'found' and returned to the gangs... others which I was trying to brew some mushroom beer (skins of which were occasionally 'found' by said elders)... as well as a stash of healing potions and pastes on the brew. Most of it infused with mythic power sure, but I had so little time to actually do some research, to study. Yet, there was a solution! And not one that would require me to reach level seven or higher first. I just had to finish the research on Create Food and Water, get something to use as a pouch and I'd have some Everlasting Rations.

After that? I'd slink away, because as a male, it was not like I was valuable.

Quellin

She chuckled at the recounting Burjss had of one of her encounters in the last raid, how she had skewered a goblin and roasted him over their own fire. It was almost as funny as the time they took turns raping another member of a rival gang, the tears in the ravished girls eyes were hilarious before they killed her. But, she was able to notice, from her seat, her cousin Gholdor crawling back onto his ledge. Which honestly? If she had not seen him, in a moment when he thought that he was unobserved, climb up to it, she would not have been able to spot it. In a way, he was the most interesting male she knew. In others? He was a strange and paranoid creature who reminded her of tales of dwarves.

Secretive, reclusive, cunning and grumpy... and unlike any other male, not eager to please, to seek rewards to better his station, apparently content lurking about the fringes of the family without actually being a part of it. Content to make them spears, somehow make booze and healing potions... in some respects, that drove his value up. More than enough to ignore the fact that he ate most of his meat raw and referred to himself as Harlgos, for some reason refusing to take credit. Frankly, it made her suspicious of what his plan was, because he seemed almost female at times.

Then again, mother and the others seemed to be of the opinion that he was touched, a natural user of magic, untrained and driven a touch insane. That, or brain damaged from his diet of raw meat (she was pretty sure she saw him eating orc and goblin brains at some point) and some of the mushrooms. And some wondering if too much of his worth and spine was ground out of him. Yet, she was condemned to watching instead of taking her cousin, because regardless of everything else he had a nice body, because the elders were looking to corner him and make him theirs, a thought which she forced herself not to pout.

He was HERS, even if she could not claim him fully, no matter what they said about luring in a sorcerous male slowly, with allowing him some illusion of choice. The healing potions? Those made sure they were... firm in their instructions. A pity he was too valuable a prize for her to keep and enjoy.

Name Translations

Gholdor; Resourceful Artisan
Harlgos; Inferior Beast

Quellin; Brave Commander
Burjss; Sly Stalker