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This vignette was written for HandofBlades as part of my Patreon request days for July 2018. It contains sexual acts between multiple consenting adults. :3

A Treatise on the Mating Habits of Gnolls

My name is Argento Venarassi. Wizard, servant of the great God Savras, and seeker of the most hidden lore. The following notes and observations are to be written by my hand as I explore the home ranges of the Salenara gnoll clan, while under the influence of an Invisibility spell. I will remain steadfast in my duty, and impartial towards the habits of these monstrous beasts. To any who read these notes, know that they are written without emotion or personal involvement. I will share only the facts, so that this lore might be returned to the temple of Savras and offered up to my God to be shared or held for posterity for as long as he sees fit.

***

I have arrived at the edge of the gnolls territory. Skulls mounted upon stakes mark the boundary of their lands. Human skulls. Orcish. Goblins and Kobolds aplenty. A warning to all, but of no deterrent to me.

I cast my spell. I will go unseen by all for an hour before I am forced to re-cast the spell.

Making my way into their territory, I see little signs of cultivation of the land. The swamp is wild and untamed, just like the beastly creatures who occupy it. These gnolls do not till the earth. They do not plant and harvest crops. If they eat vegetables at all I have no doubt it is all pillaged from their raids on the nearby Halfling settlements. Perhaps I shall witness them eating and will be able to confirm this hypothesis. No sign of any gnolls yet, I will continue onward before taking further notes.

I see one.

I have been walking for thirty minutes, doing my best not to allow my footprints in the waterlogged ground to betray my invisibility. But at last, my journey here has born fruit. And what fruit it is. I expected my first sight of a gnoll to be somewhat mundane. To see them conducting whatever the daily routine may be for such a creature. Sleeping perhaps, eating, fighting and murdering one another like the monsters they are. But instead, I witness a gnoll creeping off through the bushes beyond which I was just walking. I briefly worry that he has scented me despite my efforts to mask myself with swamp filth, but he seems utterly unaware of my presence.

He is a small specimen, from what I know of his kind. Not adolescent, but without the bulk of some of his kind. Perhaps just a year or so into adulthood, lithe and wiry. The resemblance to the beasts from which the demonic lord Yeenoghu first created the race of gnolls to worship and serve him is striking. The hyena man's rich brown fur is speckled with black dots, and he bears a rich mane of darker fur that sweeps up across his head. He is dressed in crude hide armour, but as I watch, he appears to be unbuckling it. Unfastening its straps and... oh. Oh.

I thought at first he was about to urinate, stripping off his attire and exposing not a human-like member or a sheath, but a more canine like shaft emerging from his sheath in a state of arousal. He glances back at the camp, and begins to whimper as he proceeds to massage his erection in an act of undeniable and purposeful self pleasure.

Fascinating. It should not surprise me that even creatures of chaos and evil are fans of the pleasures of the flesh, for though there is no sin in enjoying them, they can potentially be selfish and gratuitous in how they are committed. But, there are undeniable parallels in how he masturbates to, and I hope my future readers will forgive a personal comparison, my own experiences with self pleasure. He closes his eyes, appearing to fantasise. He rocks his hips. Starting slow, he picks up speed. His shaft bears a knot at its base, and he massages it with one hand while stroking the length with the other.

This action persists for several minutes, before I hear a distant howl not from him, but from the direction from whence he emerged. At that, his eyes open. He shakes. He gasps. He growls a word in his native tongue, but one which I do not know. Perhaps it is a local dialect, or a name. Yes. He might be calling out someone's name. And then, completion.

It seems that just like humans, masturbation brings with it great pleasure and relief. I have never before seen a gnoll looking satisfied. It's funny, however monstrous they are, in that moment he looks almost... cute.

He re-dresses in his armour, and soon he is slinking off back towards the source of that sound. I follow, and soon enough I see from where it was that he came.

A vast tree stands in the midst of the swamp, ancient with boughs thicker than giants and roots around and under which are constructed huts woven from wicker and reed. At the centre of the root system, a vast cavern like-structure stands with torn and stitched together scraps of cloth which look like the former banners of no doubt many lost souls serving as a doorway. Merchant caravan insignia, a few mercenary company pennants. I even see a banner of the order of the gauntlet. I hope their deaths were swift and valiant, and that they did not live long enough to see their banner so desecrated.

It is before this shoddily woven door that the male I witnessed stops. He plucks a spear from the mud, looks across at the other gnoll standing on the far side of the doorway, and bears his teeth in an expression that might be a sheepish grin. He speaks again, and this time I do understand his gnollish words, confirming that what I heard earlier was almost certainly a name.

For ease of my readership, I will translate directly what I hear.

"Thanks for covering for me. If you want a break too, I'll do the same for you."

Even at the distance where I am standing, I can see the other gnoll's face flush beneath its fur, and I witness both the guards turning towards the tent-flap like doorway as another of those cries emanates from within. A savage roaring, but one that is now unmistakably a sound of pleasure.

The other, larger gnoll looks back at his companion who just slipped off to masturbate, and he speaks as he begins to loosen his own hide armour.

"You're always so shy, runt. Just because we are not permitted into the mating ceremony, does not mean we must be ashamed of our own desires.'

He removes his armour and exposes his own already erect shaft. Before the other gnoll's eyes this larger, stronger looking guard begins to massage his erection, though only for a few moments before he regards his fellow guard and releases it, pointing down with a grunt that would be clear in its meaning even to someone not as versed in the languages of monsters.

"Suck it."

Whether command or suggestion, the smaller gnoll appears to react not with horror or disgust or reluctance, but with joy. He whimpers audibly and abandons his post in an instant. He bows and kneels submissively before the other gnoll, and within moments I am watching him fellate the larger guard.

Knowing now what is going on within, I take my chance.

I take advantage of the guards' distraction, and slip forward. Around the moaning, growling pair as the smaller gnoll kneels in the mud with the other guard's hand on the back of his head, and through the fabric doorway that leads into the tree's interior.

Immediately, a scent overwhelms me. A smell like rich incense mixed with some variety of herbs I have never known. The interior of the tree is lit not with lantern light, but with a bio-luminescent fungus that casts a greenish yellow glow over everything.

I walk forward, away from the soft panting and grunting sounds emanating through the door, and towards yet more sounds of a similar nature, punctuated by louder snarls, moans and a few more of those louder, more piercing cries. The further forward I move, the stronger the scent becomes. I apologise if my handwriting suffers, but the intensity of this scent is making my hands shake, and my knees weak. It does not appear to be toxic so much as it is some sort of stimulant. And indeed, perhaps the purpose of that stimulant is to drive on what I now see before me.

Gnolls. A dozen or more gnolls. Naked without exception, and...

I'm sorry, I forgot to take notes for several minutes. It's just hard to describe what I'm seeing with all the incense in the air. I'm light headed. I...

I must keep writing. I must keep describing what I am seeing.

There are fourteen gnolls present in this space. Four males, ten females. I am using a gender binary only for the ease of layman understanding, but truthfully it serves little purpose here. The ones I am defining as male present with the same anatomy as those I witnessed outside, sheaths, external testicles and knotted erections of reddish flesh. The females however show a surprising variety of sexual characteristics, and may in fact be several distinct gender groupings, or simply falling at points along a spectrum which the archaic nature of the common tongue fails to acknowledge in simple terms. Many of them appear to possess what appears to be some sort of pseudopenis formed from the flesh of what might traditionally have been the clitoris. They are almost as large as their male counterparts' organs in several cases, and seems just as adept at provoking pleasure when inserted into the vaginal orifice of another female.

They aren't paired off into monogamous units. This cluster of over a dozen gnolls is a single, unified group. They are tumbling over one another, legs, arms, bodies writhing and flailing all over their companions as they breed whatever set of nether regions are closest.

In the few minutes alone I have been watching, I have witnessed no fewer than eight orgasms, but none of the individuals who achieved those peaks has slowed or in any way diminished their involvement. Whether the purpose of this orgy, for that is what I would describe it as, is procreation, ritualism or just simple gratification, I cannot yet say. I must stay and observe more.

I have ten minutes left until my invisibility spell must be re-cast. I should leave. I should find a quiet spot out of sight, drop the spell, re-cast it and return.

I have five minutes. I know I should leave, but I am compelled to stay and watch.

Oh god.

The incense.

One of the females just broke away from the group. The largest of the lot. Perhaps their matriarch, the head of this clan.

She's moving to a brazier where a fire is glowing, releasing the thick, pungent aroma into the air.

She stands over it, pulls a small pouch from the ground close by, and begans to incant. This isn't just chemicals which I am inhaling.

It's magic.

Yeenoghu's magic.

Savras save me.

Her eyes glow. The fire flares a rich, deep green.

She turns, not towards the group of thirteen still writhing upon the floor, but towards me.

I look down.

I see my journal in my hand, my quill writing these very words.

My time has run out. My spell has ended.

So why am I not afraid? Why am I not fleeing for my life, or feverishly attempting to re-cast it to make my escape?

Why do I want nothing more than to drop my notebook, grab my rock hard cock that has been aching to be touched from the moment I first caught the scent of that incense, and...

She's coming towards me.

Oh god. Oh my god, she's huge. She could rip my head off with a single bite of her jaws. She could run me through with her clawed hands, dripping as they are with the juices of several of her companions.

Her hand.

Why is...

Oh Savras, help me.

Why is she touching me there.

Why is she looking at me like that.

Why am I not scared?

Why is she leading me to the brazier.

Why is she pushing my head down towards the smouldering flames, into the thick column of smoke.

Savras, save me.

Savras, forgive me.

I...

I'm...

Praise him.

Praise Yeenoghu.

Praise Yeenoghu.

Praise Yeenoghu.

Praise...

***

My name is Argento Venarassi. Wizard, servant of the eternal lord Yeenoghu, and sworn companion of his chosen people.

I have not written in this book for months, for I have had more important things to do.

I came here to learn about gnolls, and learn I have.

Humanity sees them as monsters, but they are not monsters.

They are angels.

Heaven sent by the great Yeenoghu to destroy all those who would seek to fight them and call them evil, when their true message is one of love. One of lust. One of pleasure.

I will send this book back to humanity one day, and all shall read in great detail the truths I have learned in my time here.

But now, I must return to my mistress, the matriarch of our clan.

I must return, and inhale the sweet vapours of our lord once again. So that I might share with her and the rest of the warriors in reverent worship of the forms that Yeenoghu granted them all many millennia ago.

Praise Yeenoghu, and praise the beautiful bodies which he bestowed upon his chosen kin. To be around them. Within them. Filled by them. There is no greater joy or satisfaction in all this world and the planes beyond, and I shall not rest until I have proven myself worthy to them, and to lord Yeenoghu himself.

I shall not rest, until I have proven worthy of the pleasure they share with me. Now, and for the rest of my days.

By Jeeves

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