A/N: So I was flipping through my old 3.5 Monster Manual when I happened upon the Gnolls, anthropomorphized hyenas, essentially and I wrote this. I really really liked writing it so I will probably continue it. RnR please.

He could hear them, their constant yelping and laughing as they urged each other on was right at his heels,

"Faster! Faster, hunt-sisters! He will tire, you will see!" The leader laughed in a high-pitched wail and the others yelped and leapt forward ever faster to their goal.

The satyr hazarded a glance back and bleated in dismay; they were getting closer! He could make out their amber or green eyes and their lolling pink tongues as they closed in. He had to outrun them, but he was tiring, his hooves kept slipping as the forest turned to swampy wetlands and it was only now that he realized he was lost. Too far from home and clan, so no one could hear him call and there were no paths that might lead to something familiar.

There was also one more thing he realized too late, they weren't trying to catch him. It was obvious, or should have been, that the yelling, yelping, and laughing was all a ploy to keep him running headlong to wherever they directed him. But, again, this was realized too late as the young satyr ran pell-mell into the swamp and only just came to the conclusion that he made a very big mistake as the pack stopped right at the edge and he was grasped at the ankle and swung up into the trees, upside down.

The gnolls cackled and barked, brandishing their weapons in triumph and the leader, a almost tawny-colored female with bright amber eyes swaggered forward, swinging the handle of her spined club as she moved, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth and she grinned viciously,

"Well, what a spirited chase!"

The others laughed uproariously.

She silenced them with a raised hand then moved closer to the weakly struggling satyr,

"You should feel honored! We have not enjoyed a hunt like this in many moons, little goat."

The satyr panted as his head started to feel very heavy, same with his arms and the leg that wasn't held up by a thick rope.

The she-gnoll reached over and shoved him so that their prize swung back and forth, then she grabbed his loose hoof and spun him, laughing all the while at the distressed goat's struggling.

"Cut us a pole for our prize! Truss him up like true hunting trophy!" She cackled and her pack ran off to do just that.

After a few moments they had the satyr hanging like a bagged deer from the pole as they made their way away from the forest and along the swamp. The satyr didn't have any fight left in him, he hung, exhausted and defeated; unable to wriggle free of the thick ropes holding him and he couldn't bleat after being gagged.

The she-gnoll leader, Rux-tok, laughed and rushed about with the gnolls that weren't carrying their prize, often leaping back at the satyr to frighten him or make as if she would swipe at him with her claws only to dance back and away. She also seemed to delight in tugging on his short horns, calling him 'little goat', or pulling on his pointed ears or tail. The kid sobbed behind the gag in pain or fear until they reached the gnoll encampment and he knew it was all over.

"Here you are, Magten, nice young satyr. What say we talk shop, yes?" Rux-tok poked a claw through one of her gold hoop earrings as she leaned on a post outside a tent where an older male gnoll was sitting.

Magten lifted his head and huffed, he had a large leather collar on and a tattoo of green lightning on the left side of his muzzle, his ears were tattered and he had one cracked fang,

" . . . you really think I will give you money for that scrawny hoof-walker? Or that She will be pleased?" He growled, glaring up at Rux-tok with his cloudy-green eyes.

Rux-tok snarled, "You wanted satyr, I hunt down satyr!"

"No," He grumbled, flattening his ears, "You hunt down little hoof-walker with scrub horns! Not even worth the pole he's strung on!"

Rux-tok shrieked, her fur and mane standing on end and she reached for her club only to back down when a louder roar answered her. Out of the tent loomed a gigantic gnoll, her fur was shaggy and gray and one of her eyes was missing, the socket sewn shut and there were scars all over her shoulders and massive neck, she swung a large toothed sword and it cracked the ground in front of Rux-tok. The great beast snarled, her hand curling protectively in Magten's collar to pull him back despite the males grunts,

"Yough dare, Rooks-tuck?" The big female mumbled, her teeth were gnarled and it was obvious her jaw had been broken then healed poorly.

"N-No, Matriarch Dagga-Zool!" Rux-tok's ears flattened and she lowered her head in terror.

"Googh!" Dagga-Zool grunted and ducked back into the tent.

Magten's eyebrow rose slightly as the tent-flap closed behind the massive female, "No use threatening me when mate is nearby, eh, hunter?"

Rux-tok's lip curled up in a silent snarl and she dropped the submissive persona, "Count self lucky, mate-pet . . . so what I do with this one then?"

She jabbed the satyr in the side with the butt of her club, the kid groaned and swallowed, he was still not over the terrifying introduction to one of the gnolls' leaders and hadn't really listened.

Magten snorted, "See if she-dog, Oso-Thad, has space for him, if no, kill and we call it pound for silver, eh?"

Rux-tok pursed her thin lips in anger at being slighted so and she could feel the disappointment from her pack of she-gnolls, but nodded and held up her left hand with her ring and pinky curled and the middle, index, and thumb fingers extended,

"Honor it." She grumbled.

"It is honored." Magten responded with his right hand in the same position.

Rux-tok huffed and directed her pack to follow her to a large building carved into the roots of a massive oak tree and into the ground. She kicked the door opened angrily and went in. The Pack all huffed and grumbled, the two pole-bearers set the satyr down and slid him off the pole, apparently not seeing any reason to keep him strung up in the middle of their village. He shivered and chewed his lower lip miserably until Rux-tok came back through the door with a thin female with chocolate spotted fur and green eyes in tow,

"Here, Oso-Thad, here is hoof-walker . . . " Rux-tok grumbled half-heartedly, gesturing to the satyr.

Oso-Thad's head tilted to the side and she squatted down to examine the satyr, "This hoof-walker not for Magten?"

"Was . . . not good enough for tail-licker . . . " Rux-tok snarled, crossing her arms angrily.

Oso-Thad cocked an eyebrow, "Watch mouth, sister, Dagga-Zool is everywhere."

Rux-tok snorted and rolled her eyes, "Old mange-paw will be challenged soon, not matter what she think soon."

"You?" Oso-Thad reached over and turned the satyr's head this way and that.

Rux-tok blinked then she shook her shaggy head, "Not Rux-tok, not this she-dog, no, too happy to chase and hunt to want mates and cubs. Too free to be tent-dweller, no."

"Well, I will take him. Poto and Farra could use help anyway." Oso-Thad stood and reached into a pouch on her belt and produced a handful of silver coins, "Fifty?"

Rux-tok grimaced and huffed, "Less than half of bounty! We have mouths to feed!"

"Yes, your own, greedy beast!" Oso-Thad's mane bristled, "Fifty or you butcher it yourself and see how that goes!"

The satyr started to struggle and bleat at the idea of being butchered and Rux-tok covered her ears,

"Rrr! Alright! I take fifty!" She snatched the coins then shoved the satyr onto his stomach in front of the brown gnoll before stomping off with her rather crestfallen hunting party.

Oso-Thad huffed and then reached down, grabbing the satyr under the arm and lifting him to his bound feet,

"Enough, hoof-walker, or I will make you quiet." She said calmly.

The satyr's mouth clamped shut and his wide yellow eyes stared at her in abject terror. She nodded approvingly and patted his head,

"That better, goat. Now I cut bounds, don't run, you will only die tired." She warned and pulled out a small knife from a sheath on her same belt.

The satyr nodded frantically and watched as the knife sliced the knots and his hands and feet were free, he glanced at the edge of the village to where the forest was and then he felt Oso-Thad's claws dig into his arm as she gripped it,

"Die tired or live to see the sun set?" She asked lowly.

The satyr swallowed and looked slowly back to her, his large eyes filling with tears and he hung his head dejectedly.

She patted his head again and gave him a doggy-grin, "Good, it learns fast! Your kind can't hear you bleat anyway."

He shuffled along behind her as she led him around to the back of the tavern-looking building and there was a large wooden tub. The satyr blinked and looked at the gnoll in confusion, she gestured to his body and he looked down, only now realizing that he was covered in smelly, black swamp mud from head to toe.

"You not work smelling like a old swamp hag." She explained, then she went to the back door of the tavern, "Poto, water!"

"Yes, ma'am!" came a voice from inside then moments later a blonde, male Half-elf rushed out holding a pair of buckets.

Oso-Thad nodded and watched as the Half-elf, Poto, rushed to the edge of the forest to where a stream ran and filled the buckets then hurried back and dumped them in the tub. This was repeated three times then the she-gnoll gestured for the satyr to get in.

He did so, shivering at the cold water then yelped loudly as more water was poured on top of him,

"Oh, hush, goat, not so bad. Smell better already!" Oso-Thad laughed while Poto stood nearby.

The satyr bleated and cringed with each time water was dumped on him and he felt as though his skin was being rubbed right off his bones as the gnoll mercilessly scrubbed as his fur, all the while she grumbled about how thick it was and ignored the struggling satyr then stood back and nodded,

"There! Hoof-walker all clean!" She said triumphantly.

Poto reached down to the base of the tub and pulled a cork out, allowing the dirty water to drain out, leaving the satyr shivering and wet, she gestured for him to get out. He stood there, waiting for the next set of tortures only to be covered by a large, fluffy towel. He blinked and poked his head out while Oso-Thad dried him off. She nodded once she removed the towel,

"There! Fluffy little goat all clean now. Poto, get clippers, this little goat needs to be sheared a bit, yes, I think."

Poto nodded and ran back inside then reappearing moments later and handing a pair of wool-shears to the gnoll, the satyr took an uncertain step back in confusion only for Oso-Thad to grab his ear and pull him closer, her hand moving quickly as she clipped his tangled brown hair, making it almost to the scalp, then she stood back to admire her handiwork,

"Yes! Much better now, little goat." She grinned, wrapping the damp towel back around his shoulders, "Now we get you clothes then work!"

The satyr grimaced but followed behind her through the door. It was a dimly lit apartment behind the kitchen of the tavern. Poto closed the door behind them as Oso-Thad dug through a wooden chest and then came back to the satyr with an armful of cloth, she took the towel and then fastened a loincloth made of green cloth around the satyr's waist, she slipped a pair of leather vambraces onto his forearms but he could tell by the tooling and weight that they were decorative rather than for combat, and she slid a slim leather collar onto his neck like Poto was wearing.

"There, little goat is now ready for work." She nodded and reached up to remove the gag, "As long as he does not bleat too much, there will be no trouble."

The satyr worked his jaw and licked his cracked lips, " . . . no."

"Good, now, Poto, what shall we call our little goat?" She asked Poto who shrugged,

"I don't know, ma'am."

"Hmm, tricky puzzle, tricky, tricky, names are important, Oso-Thad is name of this she-dog, means 'Spotted Fang', very good name for oldest daughter. But what do we call the goat kid? Hmm . . . ah, I see, we will call him 'Keest'."

Poto blinked then smiled, "Yes ma'am."

The satyr blinked in confusion, "I . . . I have a name . . . "

"No, you have name now, you did not exist before coming and getting name, little goat. Before you were here, you were prey, and prey has no names. Now you are not prey so you have name." Oso-Thad reasoned, "Now you Keest. Now you have place in pack."

The satyr bit his lip in dismay, "But-"

Oso-Thad snarled, "You will answer to name or you will not be part of pack and that makes Keest prey. We eat prey. You want to be dinner?"

"No!" The satyr flinched and his eyes watered.

"Good, then little goat is Keest."

Keest blinked then nodded, "Y-Yes . . . ma'am."

Oso-Thad nodded approvingly and grinned, "Good! Poto, take Keest to work. I will be out."

Poto nodded and gestured for Keest to follow him out into the tavern, it was noisy and there were many more peoples besides gnolls inside. There were orcs, subraces of elves, shifty looking men, a small group of cloaked characters that looked like demons, and, of course, gnolls. Keest's hooves clicked audibly on the natural wooden floor and he grimaced as a few eyes glanced toward him.

"Don't pay them any mind, Keest, they are curious." Poto murmured and led the satyr to the bar where a female Halfling with thick brown hair tied in a braid and bright blue eyes was passing a group of humans some pints, "Farra, this is Keest."

Farra blinked her wide eyes and then looked Keest up and down, her eyes stopping on his hooves, then she laughed,

"Keest is what she decided to call this one? Well! Isn't that hilarious?"

Keest blinked in confusion, "Why, what does it mean?"

Poto grimaced, "Handsome-foot. It's . . . It's meant as a joke."

Keest blushed and lifted one of his hooves, " . . . oh. Well what do 'Poto' and 'Farra' mean?"

Both the half-elf and Halfling exchanged glances, then Farra shrugged, "'Poto' means sapling and 'Farra' means . . . knot."

"I don't understand why-"

"I'm a half-elf, right? Half woodelf and half human . . . so a small tree, sapling." Poto explained under his breath, filling a customer's pint.

"And I'm called knot because I was able to almost get away nearly twenty times when they caught me because I could untie anything, got small hands and all that." Farra explained.

" . . . what about the other names?" Keest asked as he followed Farra to clear off a table then back to the kitchen.

"Which ones?" the Halfling murmured as she motioned for the dirty dishes to be dumped into a metal tub full of water.

"Oso-Thad means 'spotted fang', what does Rus . . . Ruk . . . that one that's a hunter, what's her name mean?"

"Well," Farra furrowed her brow, "You mean, Rux-tok?"

"Yes, that one." Keest nodded and tilted his head, scratching at a horn.

"Well, 'Rux' means 'fair' and 'tok' means 'mane' so basically her name means 'fair mane', probably on account of how light her pelt is. You meet anyone else?" Farra asked as she ladled stew into a wooden bowl and placed it on a serving tray with a crust of bread and some cheese.

" . . . Magten and a big ugly beast with a broken jaw." Keest glanced at the stew a little longingly, he hadn't eaten since this morning and all that running around had drained him.

"Hush! Not so loud about Dagga-Zool!" Farra hissed, "She's a Matriarch and you could be executed simply by speaking ill of her!"

Keest blinked, "Oh . . . I didn't know."

"Here, take this out to the table with the orcs sitting at it." Farra instructed, pushing the tray with, now, three bowls and plates on it.

Keest nodded and carefully carried the tray to the table, earning him a few glances, some were purely out of curiosity but there were a few that felt . . . invasive. He hurriedly returned to the kitchen where Farra was now cooking,

"So explain it to me then." He supplied, holding the tray to his bare midriff.

"Alright, first, Magten means 'last of ten' and Dagga-Zool means 'powerful arm'. Okay?" She glanced at him in a measuring sort of way then continued to cook while she spoke, "Gnolls are a lot more organized than most people think. I'll level with you, even I thought they were basically drooling dogs that killed for sport, but here I am, serving in a gnoll tavern. So here's how it works: There are three Matriarchs, the nastiest and strongest of their kind get together and have to fight to get to be in charge, but it isn't just a physical fight, they also have to be intelligent and debate otherwise they aren't considered leader material. Only a first-born daughter gets to be a Matriarch, like Oso-Thad could if she really wanted to but she just doesn't have the muscle to win against someone like Dagga-Zool. The Matriarchs and first-borns have the rights to mates and offspring, but unlike other first-borns, Matriarchs can have multiply mates and then a favorite. Dagga-Zool's favored mate is Magten who is the youngest son of another Matriarch, he's very smart and that's why she lets him handle money and other things." Farra took a breath and tasted her soup, then she glanced at Keest, "Oh dear, you must be starving, here."

Keest accepted a bowl of vegetable stew and a hunk of bread gratefully and started to eat, "Go on."

"Alright, as I was saying, Matriarchs, there are three but only one to a village, they get together every so often to discuss important matters, take on challengers and the like. Now, after the first-born are other children, male and female, the males are seen as little better than livestock and can be traded to another family as slaves or given to Matriarchs as a tribute, Dagga-Zool's youngest mate is a pup of barely ten if I remember correctly, and he was traded for the rights to a tree in the village for building. Anywho! The female cubs are treated more like the soldiers under a general, they're trained to fight, hunt, or pursue more scholarly positions, they are only allowed to mate if they are given express permission or is given a male gnoll as a gift by the Matriarch. Though if there is a daughter born first, she will be given to the Matriarch as a personal servant whether that is as a lieutenant or in a sexual sense, it is not specific and not always required of a family."

"Sexual sense?" Keest's eyes widened slightly.

Farra blinked, "Well, yes, when a Matriarch doesn't wish for more children she will turn to a female companion or have her mates all castrated. I know it is a strange development but it works for keep the Matriarchs from becoming frustrated and believe me, around the spring season, you want a very sated Matriarch. As I was saying, if it is a boy, it is either killed as a sacrifice to purify the mother or given away as a gift. Also, if the mating is seen as unbeneficial or the male is seen as weak or not satisfying, he can be killed in the same manner."

Keest finished his soup and grimaced, "They're so . . . barbaric."

Farra shrugged, "I can't complain, I'm allowed to live. I don't agree with it but then coming from someone who was basically abandoned to die during a famine, I'm quite comfortable."

"What about non-gnoll slaves like us?" Keest asked softly, putting the bowl into the tub.

"We're essentially pets." Farra said calmly, "We're kept fed and given a place to sleep in exchange for total obedience. We are also to protect and care for our mistress in exchange for these privileges. Count yourself lucky, Keest, you could just as easily been handed over to the butcher to be slaughtered for meat. Same as myself and Poto, we aren't seen as sentient creatures with thought and speech, we're cattle."

Keest swallowed, "There's no hope for going home, is there?"

"None. A male gnoll is terribly territorial for his possessions and a female is even worse, they would go to war rather than give something as highly prized as a slave back." She shrugged, "As I said, it isn't so bad."

The satyr blinked, " . . . are we expected to . . . do anything else?"

"Such as?" Farra didn't look up from slicing a loaf of bread.

" . . . with others . . . you know, um . . . things." Keest struggled; he'd never felt so terrified and awkward in all of his nineteen summers.

Farra looked up then nodded, "You're a slave. You're job is to please your master and if your master owns a tavern where there are patrons looking for something that no self-respecting gnoll will give for free, then yes, you, little goat, will have to bend over and bleat for whoever hands over the silver the same as all of us."

Keest's cheeks reddened and he swallowed, "But-But I-"

Farra held up a hand, "Guess what, satyr? No one cares. They really don't, all we can do is hand the silver to Oso-Thad and whimper in a corner nursing our pride and hoping we won't be too sore in the morning, get used to it."

Keest swallowed again then closed his eyes, took a slow breath, then opened them again and nodded, "O-Okay."

Farra's eyebrow went up, "Okay?"

He nodded, "I . . . I can be strong and tough like you and Poto, I can pull my own weight and I can do it without crying or . . . or 'bleating' or whatever. I will take it like a man."

Farra was silent for a moment then smiled, "Well, 'handsome-foot', you're less of a baby then I thought you were. Good for you."

The rest of the day went rather uneventfully, many different kinds of shady characters came and went in the course of the evening then the night then it was time to close. Keest followed Poto and Farra around doing whatever they asked of him and when the day was over they all handed Oso-Thad the silver they'd made, mostly in tips, it had been a slow day apparently, and then went to the back apartments.

Poto and Farra busied themselves by getting the bedding out while Keest stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, then Oso-Thad came in with a short male gnoll who wore no clothing but a thick leather collar, he glanced at Keest then nudged Oso-Thad with his muzzle,

"Who that?" He asked slowly.

Keest looked at the male and was about to answer when Oso-Thad beat him to it,

"New slave." She answered, "We call him 'Keest', Jahut, mate of mine."

Jahut looked rather goofy, truth be told, one of his ears drooped and he was stockier than Oso-Thad but shorter too, his mane was scrubby and his fur was a dull gray color. He grinned and showed off many gaps between his teeth,

"Oh, Oso . . . so many slaves, you are most strong female . . . " He grinned, rolling onto his back on the bed, drawing his arms up to his chest and spreading his legs.

Oso-Thad glanced at her mate and snorted, "Hush, Jahut, silly beast, long day has left me tired."

Jahut whined loudly and scooted closer to her, wagging his stubby tail wildly. His eyes looked so large and watery as he whined and huffed for affection.

Keest grimaced, it was rather pathetic; he thought of his own kind and how the males would butt heads for mates and how the females would garland themselves in flowers and braid their hair with sweet-smelling grasses, this was just a disgusting display of a pitiful excuse for a male to-

Oso-Thad cut across Keest's thought by snarling loudly and clamping her jaws on Jahut's throat warningly. The male whined low in his throat and thrust his hips instinctively, gasping for air and putting his hand down to push his fur away from his genitals, making himself even more vulnerable.

The female gnoll snarled and leapt back, growling low in her throat even as her eyes raked over Jahut's prone body and how he displayed himself,

"I said 'no', Jahut, stupid tail-licker!" She growled, her hand snapping out to beat Jahut's ears and muzzle.

Jahut whimpered and retreated, his tail tucking between his legs and tears springing from his large brown eyes. He sat down in the corner and whined imploringly but Oso-Thad was not listening.

"Keest, you sleep with Poto in back, Farra is with me as normal." She directed.

Farra settled obediently on the bedding next to Oso-Thad who disrobed then curled up around the Halfling. Poto grabbed a blanket and settled toward the door, he undressed then gestured for Keest to do likewise and lay down. He also gave the 'stay quiet' gesture when Keest tried to object, then the satyr laid down with the half-elf, watching through narrowed eyes as Jahut attempted to go back to sleep with Oso-Thad only to be set upon again and finally he settled for curling up at his mistress's feet, whimpering and moaning until the she-gnoll finally lost her temper and kicked him in the face, effectively silencing him.

Keest laid there in the dim-light that came from a small stove off to one side and had thoughts of trying to escape, but the idea that maybe they knew his scent now and could easy track him down and tear him to pieces kept him firmly on the floor, pretending to sleep while he felt Poto's arm wrap around him and a leg slide over his own.

The world no longer made sense.

A/N: So I based the Gnoll society on the literal hierarchy of Spotted Hyenas (look 'em up, those are the queens of bad ass right there!) and in turn was able to apply the basic rules of Amazons as well. And used all of that to create a hunter/gatherer-barbaric-matriarchy kind of society, far more complex than even I had thought. It turned out a lot better than I thought it would!