When the world was young, two tribes sought greatness on the savannah.
The first tribe, the bovar, were born of Father Ox, peaceable yet stout and fell-handed, unmatched by any predator but crowded out by lesser grazers. The second tribe, the gnolls, were born of Mother Hyena, swift and cunning, but mere whelps against Lion and Serpent and Greatworm, the royalty of the plains.
One evening, the hottest of summer, the two tribes descended on the same watering hole. Normally, they would avoid battle, neither tribe thinking itself the other's equal, but their thirst was great and terrible, and all through the night they bit and gored and kicked and clawed one another to a standstill.
But, for all their many differences, the tribes shared the gift of speech and reason, the spark of sapience that eluded their peers. And, so the story goes, Father Ox and Mother Hyena sat down beside the still water, and talked, and found they had much to gain from one another. An accord was found. The bovar would champion the gnolls, protecting them and their kills from the attention of larger predators. And the gnolls would keep the bovar's rivals cowed and pruned, leaving them the best grazing-grounds to themselves.
Of course, ways changed over time, as the twin peoples learned to grow crops and tend livestock, but they never forgot their ancestral alliance. To this day, they are near inseparable. There is no "gnoll society" or "bovar society"; they can only be spoken of as one, as the drinker-folk. For, despite their vastly different diets, drink remains a great unifier, just as it was in the deep fog of prehistory.
Drinker-Folk Society
The drinker-folk settle near water, building sprawling city-states on lakes and across rivers, and surrounding them with rings of farmland and pasture tended by satellite villages. Their cities are airy and colourful, and smell amazing - to mute the scents of their meals, out of respect for their neighbours, the drinker-folk burn scented candles and incense everywhere they can. One notable quirk of drinker-folk architecture is its aversion to stairs, which are difficult to make equitable for both species - most buildings use ramps or hoists, if they have higher floors at all.
Drinker-folk masons work primarily in stone and ceramics. Wood is valuable and never used for construction, only for tools, alongside bone and tempered obsidian. Metal is a rarity, besides silver and copper currency.
Besides houses and places of business, the hub of drinker-folk society is the moot, a covered plaza that acts as a combination forum, marketplace, and taproom. Drinker-folk eat separately, but they drink together, and in great quantities. Besides water, their beer is legendary, and every moot will have its own house brew.
Drinker-folk government is oligarchic. Each city has two co-rulers, a bovar prince and a gnoll matriarch (these genders only vary in extreme circumstances). They do not maintain standing armies, but all adults train regularly as militia, and a handful of permanent officers organise them ad-hoc into patrols, regiments, or legions as necessary.
Gnolls outnumber bovar roughly two to one. Interspecies friendships and
business partnerships are extremely common. Interspecies relationships
are rare and considered somewhat unusual, though not taboo - there's a
culture clash at play, since bovar are usually monogamous and gnolls are
very much not.
Drinker-folk do have magical traditions, but their mages occupy themselves with farming, brewing, and crafts. Their attempts at combat magic have never proven any more effective than conventional methods.
Most pay some sort of vague reverence to Father Ox and Mother Hyena, their people's supposed progenitors, but they are not an especially pious people and have no organised priesthood.
As a general rule, drinker-folk are xenophilic, and they have peerless reputations for hospitality. Bovar tend to be sincere and considerate; gnolls aren't above good-natured ribbing and pranks. However, both species respond to any hint of hostility swiftly and decisively, and they're fiercely protective of one another, putting aside personal grudges and disagreements in an instant whenever their kin are threatened.
The Crunch
Leadership
Stolen from alex on the GLOG Discord.
Each group of bovar or gnolls will be led by a sergeant, usually identifiable by a fancier outfit (a cool hat is mandatory) and nicer weapons. The sergeant has an extra attack per round and gives the whole group +1 Morale. Test Morale when the sergeant dies. The values given in the profiles below do not include this Morale bonus.Bovar
Bovar: HD 3, AC chain, Mv normal, Mr 7, Atk by weapon +1 die size, or fist 1d6. Brutal Charge.
Patrols of 1d3+1, or bands of 2d6, often paired with a similar gnoll unit.
Brutal Charge: Attacks a bovar makes after a solid, unimpeded run-up roll their damage die twice and take the better result.
***
Arms: Two-handed weapons. Sledgehammers are a particular favourite. Giant crossbows if they have to fight at range.
Look: Oxfolk. 9-10' tall, dark brown hide, cloven hooves. Men are slightly taller and have horns. Loincloths in earth tones, loose tabards for women, huge kite-shield-shaped hide pauldrons and thigh guards bearing pseudo-heraldic designs.
Manner: Deep, rumbling voices. At peace, terse but amiable, with a dry sense of humour. At war, stony and usually silent.
Tactics: Straightforward. Hold defensible positions, or advance slowly and then charge. Somewhat honourable by default, but they sink to the level of their opponents.
Gnolls
Gnoll: HD 1, AC leather, Mv normal, Mr 6, Atk by weapon, or bite 1d6. Harrier.
Packs of 1d6+2, or mobs of 4d6, often paired with a similar bovar unit.
Harrier: A flanking gnoll deals a minimum of 2 damage with attacks that hit, and 1 damage even if they miss.
***
Arms: Light hand weapons, often dual-wielding, or shortbows for ranged combat.
Look: Hyenafolk. 5' tall, mottled orange-brown fur, slightly hunchbacked. Women are more solidly built and have more pronounced fur patterns. Primary-colour piecemeal outfits, lots of straps and bone studs. Dyed patches and clan patterns shaved into exposed fur.
Manner: Sharp, glottal voices. Gregarious, talkative, and often crude, but respectful unless angered. Noisy in battle, alternating between guttural insults and that cackle.
Tactics: Ambushes, skirmishes, and psychological warfare. They outflank, surround, and isolate with brutal efficiency. Quick to retreat, but quick to rally, too.
If you want less threatening gnolls, they might also make a good Goon Squad.
1d6 Sights and Sounds in the Moots of the Drinker-Folk
1) A dozen gnoll youths accost and harass patrons at random. They're on a moot crawl, a popular rite of passage, but have run out of money, and promise they'll leave if someone buys them a round.
2) A flock of giant chickens (stats as dog) have escaped from a nearby butcher's shop and taken over the moot. They're confused, but not aggressive, and everyone steps around and over them and carries on as normal while the frantic butcher tries to recapture them.
3) A crowd has gathered around an elderly bovar couple and a pair of gnoll hustlers playing Savannah Morris (2v2, plays like the lovechild of chess and bridge). The bartender has abandoned her post to offer commentary for those at the back.
4) A few patrons have formed an impromptu jug band - a bovar sings a steady bassline while gnolls jam on items commandeered from a nearby ceramics vendor (who's a little miffed but trying not to cause a scene). Some "musical differences" have started to form between two of the drummers; a fight is not far off.
5) A crier recites the day's news, including a harrowing, completely inaccurate account of a border conflict not far from the city. Snorts, growls, warning cackles. Nobody is outright calling for war, but everyone is thinking it.
6) A candlemaker, wreathed in multicoloured vapour, hawks his wares. The smoke of certain candles has narcotic properties, controversial among more conservative drinker-folk; a couple such moralists are trying to argue the toss with the trader, but he's tuning them out.
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