On the one hand, I may have gone slightly overboard, particularly with the last little trophy that I managed to set up. On the one hand? Any chance of being dismissed as just another male was pretty much gone. On the other hand, delivering one of her rivals to her was likely to impress grandmother and allow the leash to be long indeed... if they didn't just decide to off me. And frankly, I was not sure which options would be more annoying to deal with at the moment. Because on the one hand, greater freedom came with greater responsibility. On the other hand, I'd have to haul ass and abandon my lair if they decided to put me down.
Even then, they had a good chance of taking me by surprise and I know grandmother was fast, same with a lot of the family. Because we were the dark elf version of wood elves without giant fungal trees. Well, wood or wild elves, I forget the exact ones, but the even closer to nature and barbaric elves. I would probably be able to tell which was which after some meditation, but not off the top of my head. Not least because its not exactly relevant. The important thing was that in many ways the family is a prettier tribe of orcs with the gender roles swapped.
Of course, as I peeked over the ledge, in some respects both drow and orcs and very much alike, given how there is some cooking of Iivzadriira alive, to the howling laughter of my relatives, singsong suggestions for tortures and indignities coming up from the female onlookers. Sure, other males were watching, but nobody was stupid enough to speak and draw attention to themselves, not with how they were getting all worked up. Because hey, it was only the torture, rape and probable death of the leader of a rival gang.
Sure, grandmother may have been more impressed with me if there had been some additional captives, but hauling that many heads back to the lair and then getting them to the fire before putting an fully grown female drow on top of the head pile? Frankly, that only worked because I was a cheating cheater that cheated and worked out that elven sleep immunity did not protect you from effects that kept you unconscious, but was not actually a sleep effect. Loopholes, gotta love them.
Sure, the cloud was obvious and did nothing to anyone that was awake... but it also bypassed most forms of defenses. In return for a fairly minor effect that was useful if you leveraged it properly. Also, I wanted the experience. Sure, no quest prompts in this life, but EXP was EXP and I got used to some aspects of fighting humanoid enemies in their lairs a while ago. Was I still a good person? Probably not. Closer to neutral than evil I hoped, but then we were savages down here in fierce competition over resources. Wiping out rival tribes by killing and or enslaving them was not the exception, it was the rule.
"Gholdor! Grandmother wants you!" There was still the chanting and the cheering, so that took my by surprise... but it did distract me from were I was testing out the latest batch of mushroom beer. Because there was some kind of magical fungus that acted a lot like barely that was not too hard to get a hold of. Or maybe it actually was? I had no idea how reliable my sources actually were on that matter. But, there was a problem, You see, I had a dick. Hence was excluded from these fun little things except as a spectator, and given my age? A silent one.
Still, there was nothing for it, as I moved, having wrapped myself in an unseen cloak and made my way, quietly but quickly, across the ceiling and dropped it on the other side of the tunnel, the cousin who had been watching near my lair, but not looking directly at it, turning around as I had dropped it and made noise deliberately. Because drow girls get stabby when they are surprised, and while I'd heal... it would be annoying. But, I wringed my hands and bowed. "As you say cousin."
Oh, she was confused and wary, as we walked to the central fire, to the bound form of a beaten and battered woman. One with burn marks on her, along with what looked and smelled like female sexual fluids. But, grandmother was looking right at me, the ring of elders parting, all eyes on me as she smiled. "Now, the one who brought me this prize doesn't get to just run off. Sure, you might still have a bit of that weak male constitution, but you area bit more than that." She swung her axe, patting my groin as she grinned, as she moved, gesturing to the woman who was trying to kill me with her eyes. "So, time to join in the fun, give us a show."
Choafryndriira
Now, the thing was, as she looked at her grandson, cornered and drawn out of his lair, she had been hoping for more than one thing with this, as the whispers rippled out, eyes locked on him speculatively. Sure, she was hoping to enjoy a little show, the humiliation of one of her rivals to be raped by a young male. But she was also hoping to see him squirm. Sure, Iivzadriira was a sneaky and manipulative bitch whose gang never fought openly if they could help it, but she had still be the boss of a gang. Her death should have happened at HER hands in glorious combat. Or at least, as part of a raid, one of her girls gutting the scorpion. No mistake she was a welcome gift, but it was a ruined dream.
And then her crazy little shit of a grandson? Well, as her mother always said, there were two kinds of males. The ones that thought with their dick were so common that you wouldn't there there was any other kind. And then there were the ones with darkness and venom for blood, as cold as a ghosts touch. The ones, that when presented with the chance to rape a woman with no punishment, instead decided to pull a bone knife from their sleeve and slice off a pair of ears. The knife went back in the moment of silence, as the gang looked on.
Because he only started with the ears. No, next he took his thumbs to the corners of her eyes and he proceed to press, to almost gently, tenderly, press down, the organs popping out, connected via pink chords... cords severed by a bone knife. And then he turned, looking at her straight in the eyes, unbothered and unhurried. "Would you still be requiring her tongue grandmother, for any of the family?"
The worst thing was that his posture and tone was that there was no change. He was still a submissive, deferential male in posture and tone. One that deferred to the wishes of his grandmother. Still, she looked at him thoughtfully. Honestly, it was a damn shame he was born male, as she felt for a moment like she had been looking at a granddaughter. She waved a hand. "Everyone who cared to already had a turn with it."
In a way, it was educational, the show her grandson put on, as he slowly took her rival apart, slicing her open to harvest tissue and body parts, before they were sealed back. In a very real sense, as he bowed, she wasn't going to be killing a long time rival. No, she was just going to be finishing off the ruined and hollowed out husk that was left.
Which of course, is why she pinned her grandson down, lips mashed to his, her tongue down his throat.