Leon sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a lively group of Gnolls children. The room itself was simple, with rough-hewn wooden walls adorned with colorful drawings of landscapes and strange creatures. A small fire burned at the center, casting flickering shadows that danced across the children’s faces, a mix of young boys and girls, their fur ranging from pale whites to deep browns.
It was a school of sorts, a gathering place for the tribe’s children to learn about their world. He could feel the warmth of their youthful exuberance radiating around him, a stark contrast to the harsh chill that gripped the land outside.
In front of the fire stood Kallia, a middle-aged [Tribal Teacher] Gnoll. The soft curves of her form were draped in simple garments made from animal hides.
Kallia's fur, a light blond with hints of golden highlights, glinted in the dim light, and her warm, brown eyes sparkled with kindness.
“Since we have a guest who needs to understand our world, today’s lesson will be about Borealis, and will be taught in the Common Tongue,” Kallia announced, her voice ringing clear above the children’s restless chatter. The children’s ears perked up at the mention of Leon, their attention shifting from their playful antics to the teacher.
A ripple of excitement passed through the children. They turned to him, some whispering to each other, their words a mix of soft growls and excited yips.
Leon wasn’t a shy person by nature, and he couldn’t help but smile as he returned their gazes. The young Gnolls were like balls of energy, fidgeting and bouncing in place. Their ears twitched, noses wrinkled, and tails wagged—each movement filled with the raw, infectious and innocent joy of youth. Still, their attention made him very much feel out of place, but it was a feeling he was getting used to by now.
The teacher started her lesson, her voice carrying authority, silencing the children, “Borealis is our home, a land of cold and beauty, land of the Gnolls. It is filled with many creatures and challenges.” She paced back and forth, her gaze sweeping over the children. “It is a place of survival, of unity among tribes, and sometimes of conflict, but it is also a place of stories, of legends that shape who we are.”
“Who can tell me,” the teacher asked, her sharp eyes landing on a small child with dark fur, “what is the most important thing to remember when living in Borealis?”
The child, eyes bright with enthusiasm, jumped to his feet. “Stay together! Tribe is strong!” he barked, a proud grin spreading across his face.
“Excellent!” the teacher praised, nodding. “Strength comes from unity, and in the face of danger, we rely on each other.”
As the lesson continued, the teacher spoke of the different tribes within Borealis, their unique customs, and the delicate balance of their ecosystem. She spoke of the world outside the tribe—its geography, the creatures that roamed its vastness, and the legends that filled their history.
Leon found himself enthralled. Kallia described tales of heroic Gnolls who had braved the harshest winters and faced fearsome beasts, weaving narratives that spoke of courage and sacrifice.
He could sense the pride in her voice, the love she had for her people’s history. She also spoke of dragons.
“There are many stories of dragons,” she said, her voice imbued with a sense of wonder, “Creatures of legend, few in number, but their power is said to be immense. Even in our darkest times, we hold hope that one day, they will return.”
Leon listened intently, finding himself captivated not only by the tales but by Kallia’s passion for sharing them.
Leon was an outsider, a human in a world that felt both alien and strangely welcoming. Kraka had forced him to remain with the tribe, despite the murmurs of discontent among some warriors, particularly Nogg and Brakk, who had questioned the wisdom of bringing him in.
But to begin with, it was not like Leon had any choice, not with the storm still raging outside, but he wondered how long he could stay among them.
When Kallia finished speaking, she looked directly at Leon. “Do you have questions, Leon?” she asked, her voice warm and inviting, creating an atmosphere of trust.
He hesitated, searching for the right words. “What’s it like outside of the tribe? What do people think of humans?” His voice was steady, though he felt a flutter of anxiety.
Kallia smiled gently, her ears tilting slightly as she considered his question. “Many of our kind see humans as strange, and dangerous,” she replied. “But they are also curious, like us. Each new encounter is an opportunity for understanding.” She paused, her eyes scanning the room filled with her eager students. “And it is important to teach the next generation about the world beyond our borders.”
Leon nodded, absorbing her words. He could see the hope in her eyes, the desire to bridge the gaps between their worlds. “And what about your language?” he asked, a thought striking him. “Do all Gnolls speak Common Tongue?”
Kallia shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “Every being in the world can speak Common, thanks to the Voice, but many of us speak Gnollish at home. Our names and many words have meanings that do not translate well.” She smiled, as if recalling cherished memories. “For example, my name, Kallia, means ‘Nurturing Tree’ in our tongue. It represents my role in guiding and supporting the children of our tribe.”
Nurturing Tree. He wondered what Kraka and Varra meant in Gnollish.
Stolen novel; please report.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he said.
The laughter of the children filled the air at his words, a chorus that echoed like the distant, playful yips of hyenas. It was both intimidating…and cute. They were very fluffy.
Kallia clapped her paws together, gently silencing her students.
Something in her explanation had stuck with Leon, and he asked, “This Voice… you mentioned it helps everyone speak Common. What is it, exactly?”
Kallia blinked at the question, her ears twitching ever so slightly as if she hadn’t expected him to ask. “The Voice?” she repeated, tilting her head in a gesture of curiosity. “It is… the foundation of our world. It governs all things—our Classes, Skills, and Levels. It whispers to each of us as we grow, guiding our progress, granting us—” She paused, glancing at the children, “...strength.”
Leon frowned, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. “So, it’s like… some kind of system? Like it controls everything?”
Kallia nodded, her amber eyes reflecting the firelight. “Yes, in a way. It is part of the world, of every being. It helps us communicate, gives us our strengths, and defines our roles within the world. Without the Voice, we would be lost.”
Leon sat back, feeling a familiar sense of unease settle in his chest. Another reminder that he was in a place completely unlike his own. Something prickled at the back of his head, a feeling he couldn’t quite place.
“And everyone can hear it?” he asked, his voice quiet now.
“Everyone,” Kallia confirmed. “It speaks to each of us in different ways, guiding us on our paths. Even the smallest child knows the Voice.”
There was something about what she said that stirred a distant memory. Something faint but persistent, and Leon’s mind started to drift, focusing inward. Leon closed his eyes, concentrating. And then, in the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw it.
[Survivor Level 2]
The words hung in his mind, clear and unmistakable, like an imprint burned into his consciousness. His eyes snapped open, heart racing. What was that? Had the Voice spoken to him too, without him realizing it? A whirlwind of thoughts began to rage inside his head. But before he could dwell on them further, Kallia’s voice pulled him back to the present.
“Our world,” she continued, her tone now more serious, “is shaped by many forces—some we understand, and others that remain a mystery. The Voice is one such force. It guides us, defines us. Through it, we gain our skills, our purpose. Some call it a blessing, others see it as fate.”
Leon shifted slightly, still reeling from his sudden realization. The Voice—it wasn’t just some abstract concept. It had marked him, too. He wondered if it had been responsible for bringing him here in the first place, pulling him out of his world and into this frozen wilderness.
Kallia continued her lesson, her voice gentle but commanding the attention of her restless students. “The Voice also speaks in times of great danger, rewarding those who survive with strength... or warning those who falter.” Her eyes lingered briefly on Leon, as if she knew more than she was letting on, before turning back to the children.
Her gaze once again swept over the room. “Remember this: the Voice will guide you, but it is up to you to listen, to learn, and to grow.”
The children nodded, some wide-eyed, others clearly distracted again. One of the younger Gnolls was swatting at the tail of his neighbor, while another was poking at a furry ear with innocent curiosity.
Kallia raised her arms slightly, and the children straightened at her unspoken command. The lesson was concluding.
“Now,” she began, her voice clear and steady, “let us remember the heart of who we are. What is the purpose of our tribe, Er’Dovaz—Shepherds?”
All the students, now alert and focused, sat up straighter. One by one, their tails stilled, their ears perked forward as they prepared to respond. Then, in unison, their voices rang out like a chorus:
“To protect and to guide. We are the Shepherds of Borealis, the protectors of the lost.”
Their words reverberated through the room, filling the small space with a sense of shared purpose. The children’s voices carried a pride and conviction that was hard to ignore.
Kallia smiled, her eyes gleaming with approval. “Good. Never forget that. We are not just hunters or warriors. We do not take life for glory or power. We guide. We protect. And we seek to bring those who are lost back to the fold…Now, off you go!” She said, waving her hands towards the exit, signalling the end of the lesson. “Back to your parents! And on two legs, not four—you're not pups anymore!” she called, her voice firm but affectionate.
The children groaned and muttered but complied, straightening up from their playful four-legged stance. Their ears twitched and tails flicked with frustration, but Kallia’s authority left little room for defiance. Some of them grumbled under their breath, reluctant but obedient.
Leon couldn't help but smile at the sight. Despite everything—being in a completely different world—some things remained universal. No matter where you were, kids would always be kids. Their playful energy, the way they dragged their feet when told what to do—it all felt strangely familiar, a small piece of normality in this strange, frozen world.
As the children scampered out of the room, Leon stayed put and leaned back slightly, trying to process everything he had just learned.
Kallia soon approached, settling down beside him, and Leon straightened up, his mind buzzing. She regarded him with a thoughtful gaze, her voice soft but clear. “Kraka has told me of your...unique situation, Leon,” she began. “If you have other questions, about this world, about us, I am here to help.”
Leon found himself drifting into his thoughts. Kallia's offer of help stirred something in him—a fresh memory. It had been shortly after his…arrival, once the storm had subsided enough to allow for a moment of peace.
He remembered sitting with Kraka, in the Chieftain’s tent, the grey Gnoll towering above him even when sitting. Leon had mustered up the courage to ask the one question that haunted him then.
"Is there a way for me to get home?" He had asked, his voice betraying the despair he felt.
Kraka had turned to him, his eyes unreadable but not unkind. After a long pause, he had said, “If such a way exists, I do not know of it.” His voice had been low, but the weight of the words was heavier than the cold wind outside. "I…think the Voice brought you here, for reasons we cannot yet understand. If it is to send you back, it has not spoken of it. But then, I am not all-knowing, maybe someone in this vast world, besides the Voice, does know of a way. I do not know."
Leon met Kallia’s eyes—there was so much he didn’t understand, so much he needed to know. He nodded, grateful for the offer. "I do have a few questions."
Kallia smiled gently, nodding in acknowledgement. "Then ask away," she encouraged.
And so, Leon did. The next few hours were filled with questions—more than he could count—and Kallia patiently answered each one, trying to guide him through the strange new reality he found himself in.