Choafryndriira

She didn't ask too many questions, about that male. And not because he was beneath her, even if that was true merely based on the fact that he was born a male. Weak, servile, good for fucking and being bossed around and not too much else. Oh, to be sure, you wanted a male to carry your shit, to free up your hands and have extra ammunition on hand, but generally? Males required near constant supervision and direction to have any use beyond that of menials or battle fodder. Usually. Sometimes, you got one that was different than the others, a spark of something almost feminine behind those eyes of theirs.

And then you got the ones with the sheer dumb luck to be touched by magic. A gift that would be better served in the hands of a female who could be trusted to make proper use of it. Who would be honored and a true part of the gang, raised to know that they are a vital link between past and future. Who they would not have attempted to brake. Oh, it was funny at the time, and he was more or less tame as far as most could tell, but Gholdor was also damn near feral. And subtle. A disturbing combination.

Granted, if he was just cracked in the head, she would overlook things, because allowing a male a certain level of respect and independence in return for healing potions? As an elder of the gang, that was a trade she was more than willing to make. Healing potions, and pastes that could fight against disease, meant that her girls were not as at risk if they survived fights, had a better chance at recovering, at healing quicker and being stronger sooner. It meant that they would not suffer as badly when disease made itself known, that they would not have to exile daughters until they died or recovered.

So, as she reclined on some cushions, open tent allowing her to see her brood and their children, that was enough reason to take the slow approach. Worse in some respects, was that he had other gifts, gifts that he tried to keep hidden. It did not work as well as he may have thought. Well enough, but not as well as he may have thought. And she did not know from WHAT he was getting those gifts, or why it was bargaining with him. She was pretty sure he had an altar somewhere other than the ledge. Probably something similar though.

He was sneaky, he could climb and could brew healing potions. That, and he was larger than the average male, though you would not tell from his hunched posture, from the fact that he always seemed to be expecting an attack. Aware of everything going on around him, and to be entirely honest, the nearby orcs and goblins were as or more afraid of him than they were of her girls. Then again, he was one of the rare few, male or female alike, that ventured out on his own.

Because she was woman enough to admit the other reason she was content to let him stalk the outsides of the gang. He wasn't really broken. No, be bowed and scraped, called himself an inferior beast and swelled the egos of more than a few idiots. But she could recognize the look in his eye. It was a cunning look. A calculating look. One that was weighing if he could get away with killing someone and backing down when he reached the conclusion that it wasn't worth it. It made her scars itch.

Because of course, some of her daughters and granddaughters were plotting about taking him, how he would soon be working for them. Still, even as she pondered this, looking into the fire... she had made up her mind. "Child, fetch me Gholdor." At that, the youngest at her fire started, bowing and running off. Good girl. Now, she just had to set some matters straight with her problematic grandson. All while humoring his particular brand of insanity. It was after all, one that would keep him firmly under HER thumb.

Drisdreza

Frankly, she did not know why her mother thought that giving such a task to the male was in any way a good idea. In a sense, it was all but giving him to one of the other gangs without getting anything in return. And then the heads started to appear before her mothers tent. At first, they were the heads of goblins, quaggoth and orcs, remarkable in only that they appeared without warning. And then she started to recognize the faces. Faces belonging to rival warriors, of the daughters of rival gangs. Delivered right to her mothers tent.

It made her nervous, as she tended to the fire, to the embers that were vital in warming and cooking in the tunnels. She watched the fire, and slept before the bosses tent, the central flame... and could not see when someone came to it to leave trophies. No, when she could not see her nephew when he left the proof he was accomplishing his tasks. It made her uneasy, that a male was capable of this, able to wage war on the other gangs, based on how some appeared to be taken aware, taken afraid.

Yet, there was no war party coming to take vengeance, no cries of war and blood. For thirty cycles, the male had been about his appointed task, and no more fuss was being raised than if he was hunting rats, And then for five cycles, there was nothing. No heads, no sign of the male. No retaliation raids even as all in the tunnels could feel the tension, could feel that there was something there, something out of sight, watching, hunting them. Something had likely gotten the male, though thankfully after he had ,killed many enemies of the gang.

She woke to dead eyes staring into her own, a pyramid of heads before her mothers tent. At the peak was Iivzadriira, the leader of a rival gang, striped naked and alive, eyes wide and fearful, struggling against bonds made, something told her, from the guts of her own daughters, grinding in her movements the faces of those daughters and sons beneath her. "Your prize, grandmother."

The voice was quiet, rasping... and she leapt to her feet, unsure of where it came from... and then, near the males ledge, there was a clatter, a stone knocked lose the impression of something vanishing into the hidden passage. She swallowed, as her mother came out,. as she looked on the scene of ruin... and laughed in triumph.

Name Translations

Choafryndriira; Victorious Champion Mother.
Drisdreza; Ashen Howl.
Iivzadriira; Baleful Scorpion Mother

Authors notes

So, basically the leader of each Gang has Mother as the suffix to their name. Also, gestalt murderhobo is scary when given free reign to hunt down rival gangs as his duty. Its a living