A Day in the Life of: Gnoll Young Adult
A caravan was coming. The sound of wheels crunching along the leaf litter strewn about the forest floor reaching perked ears.
Excited, the group of five from the pack began to grow restless. None more so than Slimjaw, a young whelp who was now on his first hunt. Just come into age, he was eager for his first kill.
Chainmail rattled noisily in his ears and, though he tried to stay still, he couldn't seem to stop the noise he was making. Snorting, he shook his hyena-shaped head, sending his sandy coloured mane flying untidily about his neck and back.
The stupid humans wouldn't hear the noise, he was sure. Maybe if there were dogs with the caravan, or elves, they would be heard, but scouts from the pack had let them know that there were just the humans.
The caravan came into sight the next moment, pushing him away from any thoughts about the noise he was making. His tongue dashed out between his jaws to lick his lips. He would taste the flesh of human this night.
He readied his spear, given to him for its long reach, and waited until the call was given to attack. When the caravan was almost upon them, but the call had not been given, Slimjaw felt ready to burst forward and kill as many as possible anyway.
Before he could act rashly, scaring the humans away, the call was sent, a loud howl reaching his sharp hearing.
With a yip of excitement, he surged forwards, his spear held forwards, immediately skewering one of the men that was fumbling for his weapon.
A thrill at seeing blood sent him wild. He threw back his head, a cross between a howl and a laugh escaping him, before he ran towards the next human, this one a young female. She was weaponless and unprotected, his spear easily sliding into the soft flesh of her stomach.
Soon the caravan was defeated, all eight people on board dead and the horses gathered for meat later. Not only was it his first fight, but it had been a success, only one of their number dead.
He was sent to go through the caravan, finding whatever valuables there might be. Though very few gnolls would think about trading with other races, every now and then it was good to be prepared to banter with some of the goblinoid races.
The family must have been poor, as there was not much in shiny coin or mail, only a few tarnished weapons and a few pieces of jewellery found on the females.
He growled in disappointment, but took anything he could find that was shiny. Maybe his pack leader would like some of the jewellery, as it glittered nicely even in the faint starlight.
He stashed all he could find in a cloth sack, whick he tied about his belt. After that was done, he picked up the bodies of the humans he had killed and slung them over his shoulder. He then went and caught up with the other members of the small hunting group.
Two of his comrades held three bodies so that one could carry the fallen gnoll. Meat was meat and it wouldn't be wise to ignore the gift even if it be of their own kind.
The talk on the way back to the caves they lived in was full of good nature. They had plenty of meat for their small pack, shiny loot had been collected and a new, young hunter had replaced the old.
Slimjaw was happier than he could remember. This would make his mother proud!
A/N - Someone asked me if I could make these all into the one story. The answer to that is a polite no. They will be divided into two stories. Surface creatures and Underdark creatures.
This gnoll story is the first for the surface creatures, and I hope you enjoyed it. I had no idea how to name a gnoll, so just named my character Slimjaw. In my head he has a slim jaw, lol.
I based this off of what I think hyena's would act like. Females are dominant, therefore the strange comment at the end about his mother being proud instead of father.
Ah well, tell me what you think.
