Installment 011 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment011.png]

Melissa's story of how they had acquired Gruntle ran on until most of the food and wine was gone. The other retired adventurers chimed in occasionally to clarify particular events.

They described how they'd gone back to the town, and had to dissuade an angry mob from taking vengeance on Gruntle by convincing them they'd enslaved him and hinting that they would do terrible things to him over a long period of time - which in the end had been sort of true. The townsfolk had almost lynched him anyway when Gruntle stepped in front of the adventurers, growling threateningly, apparently to protect them from the townsfolk, but seeing Gruntle crouch down and back off after Grakthor slapped him in the back of the head and told him to knock it off made him seem sufficiently subservient to mollify the crowd.

Melissa had gotten to work with some language-comprehension magic to document the simple speech of the gnolls and over time had taught Gruntle to start speaking the common language. One of the first hurdles was Gruntle wanting to know what words meant "dominant female" and "dominant male". Since "matriarch" and "patriarch" were quite difficult words for him to start with, he ended up with just "Ma" and "Pa". He never did get over referring to Grakthor and Malagriel that way, respectively.

Despite Grakthor's intense objections, they found Gruntle was especially obedient to him since he had been deemed the "matriarch" of this strange little clan. Grakthor was eventually convinced to spend some time with Gruntle and found him a surprisingly enjoyable sparring partner who didn't complain about bruises or being knocked around. His natural inclination to violence made him persistent while his natural reluctance to challenge the clan matriarch for dominance kept him from going too far.

Al was still hung up on one observation.

"So, again, let me see if I understand this - you accidentally made yourselves a gnollish clan by inadvertently treating your captive gnoll like...uh, a gnoll?"

"In large part, yes," explained Melissa, "though it seems we had other conditions working in our favor to make that possible. Firstly, Gruntle was quite young and still adapting to his environment at the time, and secondly he knew his entire clan had been destroyed so his attachment to them and their cultural reinforcement was cut off. This also triggered an instinctual need to find a clan to be a part of, so he was primed to join up with any group that seemed sufficiently gnollish. Through my extensive research and experimentation I don't believe this has much likelihood of working with an ordinary adult gnoll abducted from a randomly-chosen clan, but I've developed a protocol that is only a little dangerous and has a good probability of success under properly-engineered conditions. I very much look forward to hearing the results of others who try it out after I publish it. Perhaps it might even be possible to successfully isolate and civilize enough of them to a similar extent as Gruntle has been, and establish them as a less destructive population."

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Al looked over to the gnoll. Several large plates heaped with food and a few cups of wine had finally satisfied his appetite and he had carelessly slumped forward, half-lying on the table. His eyes drooped slightly though he still seemed to be paying attention to the conversation. Al found Gruntle less worrisome now, but he still felt quite nervous to notice that Wikwocket had snuck up onto the table and tiptoed across while they were talking. She was sitting next to Gruntle's huge head, tentatively reaching out. She made up her mind after a short hesitation and leaned forward to scratch behind Gruntle's ear.

He let out a quiet contented groan and his eyes slowly closed.

"Gnolls really are simple creatures, despite the metaphysical complexity of their origins. Gruntle is mostly interested in just three things, all of which are sinful. The third of these is indolence," Melissa explained.

"What are the other two?" asked Al.

"Violence and gluttony."

"Especially violence," Malagriel insisted, giving Wikwocket a pointed look, "I don't think you appreciate just how close you came to a terrible end when you first met him."

"It's true," Bob said, a little sadly. "We've all worked very hard to shape his behavior away from murderousness, but the animal instincts and the demonic urges are just part of who he is. There's no way to really eliminate them."

Wikwocket scoffed. "No way, he's just a sweet guy! You wouldn't really have hurt me back then, right Gruntle?"

"Yeah," Gruntle mumbled, his eyes still closed. Wikwocket stopped scratching his head.

"You...would have?"

He grunted in affirmation.

Wikwocket slowly pulled her hand away.

"Why?" she asked. Her usual cheerful expression slipped, and she looked a bit hurt.

"Stranger invading clan territory. Probably attacking or stealing. Get to kill to protect clan."

"But...you didn't. You shooshed me."

"Pa and Uncle Bob would be mad if they heard me killing and eating someone in the house. Had to be quiet."

The whole table was still. Wikwocket's shocked expression made Al feel bad for her.

After a while, she spoke again, quietly.

"Why didn't you?"

"If you try to run you're prey and I get to hunt and kill you," Gruntled answered. His eyes opened and his pupils dilated wide for a moment as he said it, then they returned to normal and his lids shut again. He continued sleepily.

"If you attack, you're attacking the clan and I get to kill you. If you make a lot of noise, you're calling for help and I have to kill you before other invaders come. You talked friendly-like about food. Attacker shouldn't do that. Maybe you're clan member never met before. Had to ask the party. Could always kill you later if they said it was okay. Then you wanted to play with party, showing off. Only clanmates play."

He shifted to get more comfortable, his head rolling a little to the side.

"New party in clan is good," he mumbled as his thoughts rambled away from wakefulness. "Good party. Stronger clan."

The rest of the table sat in thoughtful silence, aside from a few softly snoring noises from Gruntle.

Finally, Wikwocket reached out, and gently scratched behind the sleeping gnoll's ear again.

"You okay?" Al asked, concerned.

"Yeah. Just thinking maybe that was even more adventurous than I'd meant it to be. Sorry." She smiled softly. "It'll make the story a lot more dramatic though, won't it?"