Last updated 22/3/2023
Word count: ~2,800
Reading time: ~22 minutes
Early life
My gnollish name is Ɐwhrayɐ. I was born in a nomadic clan of less than 100 gnolls, born at one of our temporary settlements. We travelled throughout my infancy, not that I remember it, and eventually settled in the valley where my clan now lives. It's a beautiful place, protected at three sides by a mountain range, the fourth side bordered by a huge freshwater lake. The valley is populated by wild horses, and occasionally visited by camels and the odd human traveler, which we hunt. It's covered in lush, tall grass and ground-hugging shrubs, interspersed here and there with herbs and bushes and big rocks. No trees, we don't have those here. It's essentially a miniature plain, mixed with a mountain meadow. The lake is so big you can't see where it ends. It's full of fish and clams, and in the summer it's warm enough to swim and play in. This is where I grew up.
When I was a little kid, barely more than a toddler, a band of hunters crossed the mountain range and discovered an orc settlement on the other side. We'd thought we were isolated here so it was quite a shock. The band ceased their hunting trip and immediately went back to report what they've found. The orcs seemed to have settled quite a bit earlier than us. If it came to diplomacy, they could claim a right to this land. And with their greater size and strength, it was unlikely for us to best them in battle, even if we outnumbered them. At first we opted to ignore them, but the threat of invasion kept looming over us. We didn’t really feel safe. If something compelled them to move, the risk that they’d encounter us was just too great.
Our elders eventually decided that we should choose the less risky (but still, very risky) road and initiate contact with them on our own terms, rather than wait for it to happen. A few of our hunters, led by an elder, traveled across the mountains, carrying hides, beads, and dried meat as gifts of good will. Because I was a child, I can’t know exactly how things went down, but somehow, without having a language in common, our hunters made contact and returned to the clan with gifts of berries, incense, and bone. Over time, the relationship between our peoples grew less tense and more amicable. We established territories, and in return for respecting them, we benefited from each other’s differences. Where the orcs had metals, bones, and weaving, we had furs, pearls, and pottery. Eventually, a pidgin even developed. Neither of our clans go hunting on the ridge that divides us, and as long as we respect this border, our relationship is good.
This was around the time I became old enough to choose a guardian. I can't have been much more than 2 years old, but gnolls grow up fast. Our childhood lasts 6 or 7 years. I didn't choose my dam to be my guardian - I didn't have much of a relationship with her, beyond having nursed at her teat once in a while. Instead I chose my granddam, and she chose me back. Bond officiations between kids and adults are taken as seriously as any other bonding ceremonies (that is, the bond between a child and their guardian is no lesser than the bond between two mates, or a chief and her clan, or any other type of bond you can think of), but the ceremony itself is a lot more... simple, I guess. More child friendly. Not as drawn-out and not quite as bloody. A small incision was made on my arm (I think it was my arm, the noemata are hazy), my guardian drank my blood, in turn I drank my guardian's blood, a few words were said, and it was over. We were bonded for this life and the next.
It wasn't all a dance on roses. Apparently, our territory was within the enormous territory of a red dragon, who would on occasion fly by and terrorize us for fun. It never killed us intentionally - it didn't hunt us. According to our orcish neighbors, it was toying with us out of boredom. But even without murderous intent, it burned down our homes, and in the fires people would die. And yet we stayed, because the grass was lush and the prey plentiful.
My childhood was good. I played hunting games and wrestled with the other females, and I listened to the stories my male friend, Ïʀya, would tell. I didn't always 'get' him - I was a brutish and physical child, while he had his head in the clouds. He probably would've become a priest if things had turned out differently. I would've protected him with my life, even back then.
We grew up. Our days were spent hunting and tending the settlement, and our nights were spent in each other's arms. And then, after several years of wandering off with him, hunting voles and lizards for him, listening to his stories and watching him dance, after years of protecting him from the females' violent games and going swimming at 'our spot' and lying out at night, looking at the stars, I finally gifted him a fine necklace I'd made and asked for him to be my mate.
Of course Ïʀya said yes, and our bond was made official soon after. It was a beautiful, bloody mess as any mating ceremony should be. We drank from each other and mixed our blood and became one, for all the clan to witness. And we were happy. For months we were happy.
The awakening
Something had been awakening within me. Ïʀya knew about it, of course. He knew everything about me. But I had tried to keep it hidden from the clan until I had a better grasp of it.
I could hear the grass singing. I could feel what our prey was feeling. "Talking to plants and animals," you may call it, but it was less of a talk and more of a dance. An epiphany or insight, a meeting of our minds and sharing of our souls. And it wasn't just internal. In the beginning it was brief and uncontrollable, and for fear of showing our clan that something was wrong with me, I became withdrawn. Whatever was in me, it wanted out, and if it had to break my body to get out, so be it. Something as simple as listening to hoof beats or observing a spider could ignite it, and inspire this power to force its way out through my skin, changing me in ways I didn't want, turning my teeth dull or hardening my skin to chitin.
I was horrified.
Ïʀya was fascinated.
He encouraged me to push it further, rather than repress it, and by refusing to let me bottle it up, I think he saved my life.
And by the cascade of events that would follow, he may have sacrificed his own.
We went for long walks, sometimes staying away from the settlement for days, while he helped me open up to the parts of me I wanted to repress. Shapeshifting was repulsive to me. I caught my reflection in the lake more than once, and if I'd had a proper mirror I may have puked at the sight. But Ïʀya was tougher than he looked. Though he couldn't hold his own in a fight, he had the constitution and patience of a saint. And eventually, after weeks of daily work, I completed my first full shift, and I became a songbird for him.
I don't know how we came to the decision to tell our elders. Perhaps we felt we couldn't keep it hidden forever, maybe we thought it could somehow help our clan. Either way, it was a mutual decision by me and Ïʀya. I had convinced him to wait outside as I talked to the elders, in case there were negative consequences for having kept it hidden. I didn't want him to get caught up in it (though of course that wasn't my decision; he'd always done his best to get caught up in the same messes I did). And so, I stood before our matriarch and priest explained to them what had been happening to me, and transformed into the bird I had been practicing. Whatever reaction I had expected, it wasn't this - after their shock had subsided, they just dismissed me.
It was tempting to stay outside their tent and listen to their discussion. We both wanted to, Ïʀya especially, but it would be a breach of the social contract. There can be no facetiousness or sneaking around or breaking of promises in clan society, or everything falls apart. They would not want me to listen, so I didn't, and in turn I trusted that they would tell me everything relevant when they were done. And they did.
A few days passed. I had been in the middle of camp working on some mundane task - mending weapons or tending hides or spinning thread, I couldn't tell you - when they came to me. Not just the matriarch and priest, but all our elders. Every single one of them. I remember the way the crowds parted to let them through, the hushed murmurs, the way the elders' eyes were all fixated on me, and how the rest of the clan followed their gaze. My heart beat so fast I thought it might leap out of my chest. The matriarch's expression was unreadable. The priest's, though... He seemed neither here to punish nor praise me. I couldn't read his face at the time, but in hindsight I think it was wistfulness. Joy and anguish, all at once.
They didn't pull me aside, this was for all the clan to hear, apparently. The gifts I had could not be honed here. There had been no "druids" in our clan for generations, no one alive would know how to guide me to grow my powers. They would go to waste if I stayed here. I had to find a teacher. I had to leave.
The journey
Leaving my guardian behind was the hardest part. She had died her first death a few years back, and, as was customary, I had been caring for her earthly remains ever since, keeping her spirit alive. But others could take up the mantle. It would be a long time before her second, final, death, the death of her spirit. It would be safer for her to stay back while I travelled.
So I packed my things, and more. I didn't want Ïʀya to tag along, for his own safety, but nothing could keep him from me. We only brought along our necessities and what rations the clan could afford, but it was heavy, and I was the stronger of us, so I carried much of Ïʀya's stuff. Our goodbyes were mournful and, though gnolls can't cry, we wailed. When we finally turned our backs on our home and our snouts toward the mountains, our throats were so sore and our hearts so heavy, we couldn't talk.
We didn't bring a tent, only a hide, large enough for the two of us. Some nights we would prop it up against the mountainside and sit under it, warming ourselves by a fire. Other nights we would curl up in it and warm each other. And every day we walked. For how long I don't know. It could've been weeks or months. We reached trees - small, crooked, sad things, but trees. We didn't have plants like that at our home. We hunted as much as we could, saving our rations, and with Ïʀya's help I got better at controlling my magic, and my magic grew stronger. I could turn into birds and bugs and snakes. I listened to my body and felt the shapes of animals I didn't even recognize, and, feeling it out, like fumbling in the dark, I brought them forth. The first of these unknown animals was a small, winged reptile, barely larger than a hawk. It was similar to the dragon of the mountains, but it spew no fire. A kind of wyvern, I would later learn.
We had no idea where we were supposed to go. We followed our hearts, the path, and the flocks of birds, praying for The Matriarch to keep us safe and The Patriarch to lead us where we needed to go. But sometimes the Crooked Horn is stronger than the Parriarchs.
One night we had taken shelter in a cave. Ïʀya discovered that it was much deeper than we first thought. Not just a cave, but the mouth of a tunnel. Curiosity got the better of us, we had never encountered anything like this. I lit a flame with my magic - I could do that now - but after walking for a bit it became unnecessary. The tunnel itself glowed with bioluminescent fungi, whose lights were amplified by crystals. We should've turned around, but instead we grew more confident now that we didn't have the worry about light. We went down side tunnels, splitting up, sure that we could find our way back to each other. And we did... Right until we didn't. I called Ïʀya's name, but the only response was the sound of foot-steps, much heavier than his, coming towards me.
I ran away from them, hiding in some kind of nook or cranny in the wall, and as they passed by me, I caught a glimpse of tall, humanoid shadows on the tunnel wall. I was already short of breath, but I had to find my mate. I tried following his scent, but gnoll noses are not the best - somewhere in-between human and dog, not built for tracking, especially not in musty caves where the predominant smell is fungus spores. After several hours I grew too exhausted to continue the search. We had already been about to settle down for the evening when we found the tunnel. At this point it must've been well into the morning hours. I found a nook that was deep and twisted enough for me to rest in without being discovered, curled up, and somehow managed to drift off.
I don't know how long I slept. The constant glow of the fungi was disorienting. But when I woke up it was to the sound of foot steps and talking. The inhabitants of the cave system were approaching and I had to know what I was dealing with. I tried to muster up the strength and focus to transform into something less conspicuous, but I couldn't. I slowly, carefully stuck my gnollish muzzle out of the nook, hoping against hope that whoever this was wouldn't spot me. I only managed to catch a glimpse of their backs as they rounded a corner, but they were tall and white-haired with grayish black skin. I could probably have taken them in a fight, but not if they were armed or had magic. Better to keep sneaking around in the shadows.
So for what must have been days, that's what I did. Sneaking around and avoiding the inhabitants (whom I observed were very much armed, with knives and strange curved swords). My rations were drying up fast. I'd had enough for a week when we entered, but by the time I found my mate I was down to three days. He was chained in a large chamber, always flanked by cave-dwellers. I observed it all from high above, hiding in a small tunnel - probably a vent of some kind. He looked battered, but he was alive, and I had to rein in my wild heart to not jump to his rescue then and there.
But I had to act fast. If I were lucky, they would keep him around as a toy or trophy. If not... I didn't want to think about it.
My noemata unfortunately get hazy around this part. I've had to extrapolate the entire ordeal in the cave from just two brief flashbacks/flashalongs. I freed Ïʀya we had an action-packed guns a'blazing chase through the mountain, but I genuinely can't recall how I freed him. The important thing is that we got out. It was midday when we reached the outside. The sun beat down at us, and, to our joy, we realized the cave-dwellers would not follow us into the light. We collapsed in the sun, exhausted and battered, and fell asleep in each other's embrace.
After recovering for a day, we continued on our journey. I took up hunting again, but since we were on the road we had no way to preserve our food and add to our rations. If anything should happen, we would only have enough food for 3 days, max. Neither of us liked that, so we decided to follow the next signs of civilization.
It wasn't long before a band of travelers led us to a market. By this point, the landscape had become less rocky and more sandy. The trees, that had amazed us so, were once again replaced by shrubs, but the well-known grasses of our homeland remained gone. As did the clouds. The market was bustling with traders and tricksters alike, of races we had never seen in our lives. Humans, yes, and the odd half-orc too - those we knew - but strange bird-like and reptilian folks too. Long, graceful humanoids with pointy ears, short and squat ones with beards. Elementals of some kind - I remember one with fire for hair. None of them spoke a language Ïʀya and I understood. All we had to get by was gnollish, gnollish-orcish pidgin, and gestures.
I had to stand on my tip-toes to even catch the merchant's attention, and all I had to trade was fresh meat (well, fresh by gnoll standards) and herbs. I tried to trade a dead rodent (a marmot or gopher maybe?) for dried meat, and I think the merchant understood my intentions, but all he seemed to want in return was metal. It was the same wherever I went. No bartering of any kind, they all just wanted little metal pieces for their goods.
I was about ready to give up, and turned to Ïʀya to tell him as much, when I realized to my horror that he wasn't by my side. I looked around frantically, standing as tall as I could, but even on my toes I barely reached the chest of most people. Dropping to all fours, I searched fo Ïʀya's scent and listened for his voice. But in the dusty air and with the market noises, I wasn't even sure in which direction he might've disappeared.
I yelled his name. The non-gnolls around me jumped back in surprise at the guttural wailing noise. I'm not sure they even registered it as a name, so different were our tongues. Once again I yelled out, and I heard a faint response somewhere, deep within the cluster of people. I forced my way through, not caring if I pushed over a few people in the process. I had to reach my mate.
I couldn't believe it. He was tied up again, this time by the neck. Some humans had roped him and were poking and prodding at him, laughing and yelling all the while. Fury overtook my body, physically manifesting itself. I grew. My teeth and claws lengthened. My thin fur grew thick and shaggy, like armor. I wasn't quite a bear - I still had a few recognizable traits left - but I was bear enough that the humans knew better than to fight me hand-to-hand.
My memory of what happened next is blank. There was blood and screaming. I tried out my new teeth and they worked like a charm. Ïʀya was freed. I carried him out of there, back into the mountains. The humans quickly gave up their pursuit. I assume they'd had a run-in with gnoll hunters once, and were vengeful, though I couldn't fathom why they took out their anger on a non-hunter.
When I returned to my own body, I realized I'd been cut and stabbed pretty bad in the fight. Ïʀya had rope burn around his neck and struggled to talk, but was otherwise fine. I used magic to stop the bleeding and form a scab over the wounds, but I couldn't completely heal them yet. I was too exhausted. I healed Ïʀya's throat to the best of my ability, but that, too, would take time to heal fully. We huddled together in a small cave opening, our hearts beating in tandem, and as the fire burned out, I looked at Ïʀya for what would be the last time in a long time. My sleep was restless and full of nightmares.
The party
Four unfamiliar faces stared down at me. My heart jumped in my throat, and I reached for Ïʀya.
And I howled in agony.
Gone. Gone again. A third time.
I told him to stay at home. Ïʀya is an artist, a dancer, a storyteller. He's never been a fighter. He's never had a reason to fight. Even among the other males, he was always the smallest, the least competitive, the most absentminded.
I jumped up, on shaky legs, and immediately collapsed. I felt weak, like I'd slept a lifetime. The four figures held their distance. I blinked up at them, but it was still dark out, and their silhouettes were back-lit by the moon. They were humanoid, that much I could tell.
I repeated Ïʀya's name, over and over, curled up on the floor, too weak to move. Wondering why the figures didn't just kill me, now they had the chance. They murmured in a language I couldn't understand. I fought my way into sitting position, on unsteady hands. And I growled a threat (a prayer?) to them, wanting a reason to fight.
My Ïʀya. My mate. My heart. Torn from me again.
One of the figures coughed and said something to me. I raised my hackles and bared my fangs, but instead of attacking, the figure stepped back.
I needed a light.
Summoning strength I didn't think I had, I conjured a small flame, barely more than a flicker, and lit up the strangers' faces, enough for my nightvision to pick up.
One was familiar... ish. I had met orcs, and, though I'd never met a half-orc before, I'd had them described to me. He had a short crop of hair and two wimpy tusks, but was otherwise big and burly. He bared his teeth, but I believe it was a smile, rather than a sneer. Next to him was a humanoid, even short than me, with pink skin and long hair. I couldn't tell apart their sexes, but I knew they were different from us. Humanoids often made their females wear long hair, for reasons I couldn't fathom. Next to the short one was a slender, fair figure. I had heard about elves, but, like the orc, this one seemed different. Another halfbreed, perhaps. The last one was unlike anything I'd seen before, and I didn't like it. It resembled the effigies of our chaos deity, the Crooked Horn. The one who got me and Ïʀya into this mess. But, rather than a gnollish body, it was long and slender, like the elven one. Hairless too, with purple skin and a long, lizard-like tail. It's horns curved and coiled backwards in asymmetrical patterns. I sneered.
A half-orc, a halfling, a half-elf, and a tiefling, I would come to learn.
I spoke to the half-orc in Orcish-Gnollish pidgin, and he listened carefully. But both our efforts were wasted. He couldn't understand more than a few individual words. I wanted to know if they'd seen my mate, who they were, and why they were here, in the middle of nowhere, but I couldn't. And either way, I had more important things to do than chat with humanoids.
I staggered to my feet and walked out of the cave, where I stopped in my tracks. The air was different. Colder. The flowers were gone. The dew laid frozen on the shrubs. And something else hit me. I went back in and sniffed our bedding. A chill went through me, but not from the cooling air. His scent was gone. How long had I slept?
I turned to the half-orc and started rattling off words. Time? Season? Summer? Eventually he caught on. He drew a wheel in the sand, separated into four parts, then drew symbols next to them: a snowflake, a flower, a sun, and something I didn't recognize at first - a leaf. I didn't know why a leaf would mean autumn, but it had to. I pointed at the sun. Summer, that's what it was supposed to be. He pointed at the leaf.
I had been asleep for at least three moons. Maybe even more.
I started shaking and crawled back into the cave, almost in a trance. The strangers murmured among themselves. My face and paws felt numb. I pulled at my tail, trying to soothe myself. How long had Ïʀya been gone? Had I fallen into some kind of... druid hibernation...? Had he taken care of me for all those months? But then why was his scent completely gone? A thousand thoughts raced through my head, as I kept pulling on my tail and chewing on my fingers, trying not to panic completely.
I barely registered that the halfling reached out to me. It didn't touch me, but it held out a hand, fingers lightly curled, palm down. A non-threatening non-committal gesture. I looked up at its face, still breathing shallow, rapid breaths, vison swimming. I wasn't sure what it wanted, so I mimicked it, reaching out my own hand, palm down, claws curled inward. Our fingers touched, and I took a deep, shaky breath, then thanked the halfling. I wish it could understand my words, but I think it understood my intent.
The quest
I tagged along with these people, hoping they were the Patriarch's way of guiding me back to my mate. As time passed, I learned some of their language - another pidgin, erroneously referred to as "the common language" or just Common - and they learned some of mine. The half-orc, Ulfric, was my greatest support in this. On our long journeys, we would practice words, and around the fire we would chat, as well as we could.
Eventually I learned enough to ask them what happened the night they found me. I had been in some kind of stasis. Not just sleep, but a complete stasis of my body. It was a kind of magic none of us knew of, but I wasn't even breathing until they touched me, so it couldn't have been a normal sleeping spell. The nightmares that had plagued me the last night I slept with Ïʀya might have been a clue. I had mostly forgotten them by this point, but the feeling persisted - the feeling that Ïʀya was being torn away from me, that he was being kidnapped, and that I was powerless to stop it.
But why would anyone kidnap Ïʀya, of all people?