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Silvery strands were invisible in darkness; Oribara had a headlamp.

As the Screaming Slugs flickered in the swath of fluorescent light from his forehead, the thug knelt down, one hand on his board and another reaching out into the ground. His fingers punched past glowcaps and dirt, snagging into the hardier rock underneath, and with a twist of his body, he wrenched a large slab of rock out of the ground, board skidding to a stop at the very edge of the first slugs. Still squatting on his board, Oribara pulled out two spray cans and shook them heartily. One was a pesticide, strong enough to dissuade any glowcaps from growing over top, while the other was a luminescent paint that would glow a striking red to contrast with the blue-white of the caps.

And what did he spray atop the rock?

[i]Eyes up, fuckos![/i]

A flourish of his double-shotgun, double-bicep signature later, and Oribara rammed the stone warning sign into the ground, right in the center of the entrance to the cavern. Slugs were good for drawing out other predators, but Trailblazers didn’t care for the dangers of opportunistic predators. Dens were easier (and more satisfying) to vandalize.

Then, a couple of rations flew overhead. Snagged onto the sensory threads of the slugs. And was duly consumed by them.

Oribara gazed backwards, one eyebrow cocked.

[b]“Didn’t take you for a monster lover, tinman.”[/b]

And with that, he kicked off again, board churning up glowcaps underneath as the redhead swayed and snaked, evading the [i]very[/i] visible freaks that clung to the ceiling. Someone with a flamethrower can handle ‘em in the future. Oribara had a whole damn forest to sketch out!