Don't Judge a Book by It's Cover
Don't judge a book by it's bloody cover.
A short scream, garbled by an already nearly crushed windpipe ended with a sickly wet crunching sound. The gnoll's strong, bare, brown furred hindpaw crushed down on the weak human skull with a vicious stomp. The hyena like creature let out an nerve splitting cackle to the air, vestiges of battle adorning his warrior garments. Sets of ears hung from lanyards sewn into his leather armor, and fresh from this raid, a few heads on his belt, locked in silent frozen screams.
All around him, his clan mates ravaged the small human settlement that had sprouted up over the winter like a fruit ready to be plucked in springtime. The screams of the settlers; men, women, children, even their livestock and pets were all that was heard over the crackling of the flames already licking the roofs of the ravaged buildings. Anything unlit, was unchecked. Nailo scanned the small rows of mud, grass and stick houses, hastily constructed. His keen eyes spotted a set of cheap curtains made from left over canvas feed sacks. There was someone peeking out of there, looking right at him.
The gnoll smiled, baring his fangs in the process as he stroked over his steel earings, already earned from previous raids with the tip of his machete. This little skirmish would net him another hoop to show off. The gnoll was a bit small for his kind, but well muscled and very fast. His intellect was also far sharper than his brethren, yet his pride was not such to the point he would consider being one of the mages. He would rather fight alongside his brothers, earn his respect, earn his place, earn his keep.
Nailo approached the small building, eyeing the slightly swaying makeshift window covering. Drawing his weapon out in front of him, the brown furred raider hooked the flat of the blad into the top of the drapes, yanking them down. He quickly scoped the inside before hoping in quietly, landing on the soft earthen floor with nearly no sound. Ears swiveled, his nose twitched.
A blood curdling scream from behind him kicked his hunter's reflexes to respond, the crude blade almost sliced through the air in an outstretched ark on it's own.
A human woman fell onto the gnoll, her own momentum carrying her the last few steps as she lost her intestines all over the hyena-man. Coughing out a sputtering "Bastard" the woman died in his arms. Nailo could not have been happier. The cruel beast dug a paw into the open belly of the female human and began to squeeze her remaining organs, letting out a feral growl as he enjoyed their warmth and the stickiness they left in his fur. The gnoll began pulling the rest out as if it was a game to see if he could hollow her out as much as possible.
Fresh screams from the back of the little shack of mud. Two young humans, a male and a female. The gnoll licked his muzzle and stood, covered in their mother's gore, holding a machete as long as their torsos.
Screams from the house, none of the other gnolls even perked their ears at the cries of pain and snarling coming from one of the few structures not ablaze. Minutes later, the furry raider walked out of the house holding a torch, covered in even more blood than before, and rubbing his cloth shorts with a satisfied grin. He tossed the blazing stick inside and watched as fire consumed the floor, eating the lamp oil he had spilled over it and the wooden furnishings.
What a raid.
The march back to the gnoll encampment in the forests was long but boisterous. Full, well fucked, and full of loot, the gnolls rarely fought amongst themselves during successful returns. Nailo, for his part, had two fifty pound sacks of salted pork he had claimed in nicely stocked, temporary tavern the settlers had setup. This would be enough for another earring as the elders absolutely loved the saltpork humans always carried. Four days of solid movement to get home. Home to his slave. His elf.
Gnolls were encouraged to bring back slaves, either for themselves or for the entire tribe to count as loot. If a gnoll chose a personal slave, they would be marked as such, and thus were far less likely to be eaten or worse by a random tribesman. He had found his slave on his second raid, around eighty-five years old, the elf was still just a 'juvenile' no more than eighteen years old in gnoll or human terms. Nailo and a small raiding party had tracked down an elvish caravan and snuck up in the dead of night. The tents were entered at the same time, and all at once, screams and snarls filled the night air. The tent that Nailo had chose, was only occupied by two beds. He had struck the large of the elves first, apparently a wizard by the looks of his robes. No spells are cast by the sleeping.
Sword dripping with red, the gnoll turned to the other bed. Sitting on it quietly, nervously holding his legs, the young elf spoke to the large raider, much to his surprise.
"Are you going to kill me?"
The gnoll could only stare at the young elf boy and bared his fangs in the dim light. "You wouldn't like the alternative, child. Believe me." The growling voice of the gnoll sent shivers through the terrified youth, and the raider could sense it.
"I could claim you as a slave. You'd tend to me after raids, or battle. You would clean my quarters. You would serve me in any way I need." The gnoll licked over his fangs as his gruff words sank into the elf's ears.
"I would do that."
"Even though, I seem to have killed your master?" the furry beast chuckled cruely.
"I would have killed him myself. I enjoyed watching you do that."
Nailo could not help but tilt his head at the boy, a twinge of excitement. Something different.
"Then you are my slave. Come, boy." The gnoll yelled out the tent "I HAVE A SLAVE! PERSONAL!" The other gnolls knew this meant a fight to the death over an dispute of that slaves ownership now.
The gnoll mused at the memories as he marched with the others, looking forward to the hero's treatment when he got to his own little spot in the barracks. Soldiers got rooms, and privacy, another perk worth fighting for.
The gnoll camp was full of activity as the raiders returned with sacks of food, weapons, livestock and a few terrified humans in chains being pulled into the crowed of large hairy gnolls. The loot was counted and dropped off to the storehouses, and the raiders were each logged for what they brought back. Awards would be given out hours from now at the feast at sundown. Looking out over the small village towards the barracks, Nailo moved through the crowds of gnolls and slaves, heading to his own.
The barracks were a long building two rooms wide with a hallway down the middle. Each of the 40 rooms housed one or two gnolls depending on their rank. Nailo was high enough now he had a single room. This came with many advantages, not the least bit being his slave's special treatment. While not so much illegal in his society, it would be... frowned upon.
The brown furred gnoll pulled back the curtains covering his room from the hallway, inside, sitting on the bed with a bucket of warm water from the fire pit and a wash sponge was his young, lithe little elf. The youth wore the same blank face he had when the gnoll had first laid eyes on him. Silky brown hair just to his eyes, supple form, soft skin, eyes as green as a snake. The elf was the best thing he would ever bring home.
"Hello, Slave."
"Welcome back, Master. I saw you brought the elder's favorite snacks. You should have a big night, tonight, Sir." The elf waited patiently as the sore creature removed his dusty armor and let it fall with a heavy clunk on the floor. The gnoll stood in his loin cloth and stretched out before sitting down on the bed just in front of the elf, back to the youth. He chuckled.
"I bet I will. I might start getting pushed to challenge someone of rank soon. If I don't I'll look week to the others right behind me." He let out a gruff sigh as the young elf dunked the soft sponge in the warm water and lifted it to the sore furry shoulders, squeezing it out and letting it soothe through his muscles. He repeated this dunking and squeezing several times over before putting the sponge back and rubbing the large shoulder blades and working his fingers into the muscles under the fur.
"You'd beat them. I see a lot of the generals are nervous of you when you walk past. They see your lack of fear. The know how strong you are."
The gnoll smiled at these words. The elf understood his people very well. He let out a soft groan and hung his head low, letting the small elf hands work out the days of tension. Little snarls as the elf rubbed painfully into knots in the muscles, unafraid of hurting his large master with such little pains.
"This feast is going to be big for me if they give me my fourth hoop for my lowers," the gnoll motioned to his three hanging earrings and the two at the tops of his ears. "I'll be allowed a second slave. Want a buddy?" the gnoll teased with a cackle.
"Just no girls, please."
"Always so simple with you." The gnoll smirked. Behind him, the elf blushed as he continued to bathe and relax his Master. He ran a hand around to the front of the gnoll to feel the dried brown blood in his fingers as it caked off in clumps. The elf rubbed it in his fingers until it turned to dust.
"Who were your kills, Sir?" the youth asked, curious to hear his Master's exploits.
"Three male soldiers. Well, they had swords at least. A woman and her two kids. Had some fun with them." The gnoll cackled again and shook out his mane as if still pulling some flesh off of one. "The mom almost took me out with an ax! So, I had to do her kids while they squirmed."
His slave nodded as he rubbed the dried blood from his master's fur, not washing these areas as the gnolls enjoyed wearing the scents of their kills blood. Especially for such a ceremony. Not much publically, but for the gnolls who received an earring, these nights were quietly very special. Quietly, with gnolls, was relative however. The howls and cheers and growls from outside the thin walls of the barracks told Nailo's ears that the drinking had already begun before the scent of the cooking meat had even reached his nose.
Rhythmic, pounding drums and simple stringed instruments along with bells and other easy to use instruments drowned out the forest this night. Any creature who normally would not be driven off by the smell of the gnoll village was now in hiding due to the sounds. Fighting was common tonight, though this time almost all were good natured scraps between friends and siblings. Dominance was thrown to the wind by all but the elders and wise-ones as the booze and smoke fueled the raiders and workers into rowdy play. One of the strongest warriors, adorned with many, many piercings to wear his ears were starting to sag was hoisting a weaker male, a cook over his head. The cook happened to be his brother, and to the a human, one would think this poor gnoll was to be smashed like an egg on the ground. Rather, the warrior sibling simply tossed his smaller brother to some of his friends for them to pick on lightly. The cook, was actually enjoying all the attention.
Platters of meat were walked through the crowds, jugs of ale and wines freely passed to whoever would take it from the currant drinker. Gnoll feasts were not an orderly type of gathering. Slaves who were less fortunate tore scraps of meat off of bones as they were fed by drunk gnolls, tossing bones into the slave cages. More fortunate personal or working slaves, freely roamed the party either performing chores and tasks, pleasing the occasional randy gnoll, or simply sneaking pulls of wine off of jugs accidentally passed.
Nailo preferred his slave to stay in his quarters during these times as even marked with his scent, the no killing someone's slave rule was sometimes forgotten with the addition of such large amounts of alcohol. The elf obeyed, and even understood. The brown gnoll was standing with a few of his friends by a large table of ales and meats both cooked and raw. The little group was playfully pushing each other around, joking, bragging about the raid, and speculating on who would be awarded earrings.
Gnoll life at times, was very simple. The hours flew past as the meats disappeared and the consumption of liquor slowed down. Before long the elders silenced the music. All talking, growling and other banter immediately ceased as the crowed of hyena like beasts turned towards the raised platform where the elders spoke.
"Tonight, we feast on the bounty brought to us by our brave warriors and raiders! As you know, we take pride in honoring those who show the effort and skill needed in our society. These individuals are awarded with visible symbols of their progress and merits. Our kills and our feats are numbered on our ears for all to see. Our class and our place. Our very position in this society, here or afar is based on these very ornaments. We did not lose any brothers on this attack, thus no earrings to melt down. This is of course, excellent. Looting is how we prosper, and looting rights are earned after battles on our own terms. This way, only our strongest warriors are decorated as such and this is why we are so successful."
The crowd listened in rapt silence, only grunts and coughs from some of the more wobbly looking of the gnolls were audible in the short silence before the elder continued.
"We now call forth our warriors who we the elders have judged as showing the most success on this raid measured in kills of combatants, as well as loot or slaves brought back. The first of which will be receiving his fourth lower earring earning him the honor of capturing a second personal slave to do with as he wishes. Nailo Gress-Scraugh, please come forth to accept your decoration to be worn tonight and onward."
The gnoll grinned at his friends as they slapped at him while hissing "Tail kisser bringing saltpork to the elders!" as he trotted passed to jeers and whoops from his clanmates. Nailo walked to the platform, lowering his head and flattening his ears, curling his lips back to bare his teeth, he held an open, furry palm up. The shiny, steel hoop was placed in his paw and his fingers were closed around it for him. He let out a loud whooping sound to the sky as he turned back into the crowd, clutching his new earring and passing the jealous or nervous gnolls waiting to see if they'd even get their first.
Nailo went straight to his quarters. His elf was waiting on the bed, a threading needle on the wooden table next to a candle illuminating the room. The gnoll smirked in a way that would send most of other species running for their lives. The young elf knew this was as close as gnolls look to 'giddy'.
The warrior pulled a stool in front of the bed and sat on it, back again to his slave. He set the earring, new and gleaming, on the table next to the needle. Nailo breathed out excitedly from the new respect he would get with four hoops. His two top rings already made him intimidating enough that no juvenile in their right mind would consider even eyeballing him. He listened to the elf as he prepped the needle in the flame and cooled it in the air. As the elf held the gnoll's furry ear and rubbed it gently, Nailo began to ponder aloud.
"For my second slave, what do you think about another elf boy? It would be a perfect matc- OW!"
Nailo yelped as the needle was shoved right through a nerve, picked by the elf. "Sorry, Master." The elf lied, "I think you should just get us a plaything now and then I can watch you tear apart."
Growling lowly as his slave threaded the new earring through the freshly pierced hole, he curled his lips back again in a smile. "Sometimes I forget why I love you."
The elf only closed off the new earring and gave it a flick with his finger, making it click into the one next to it, and making the gnoll twitch his ear from the tenderness.
"What was that, Master? You're drunk and stuffed. I think you're slurring your words."
Nailo growled and spun around, leaping onto the elf and pinning his small form to the bed. "And I think, it's time to clean off the rest of these humans from my fur." He bit down, snarling and flinging spittle at the elf, an action most would see as their last. It ended in a long, passionate, if not a bit drooly kiss.
Happy valentine's day!