Gnollish Bows

The various gnollish tribes each employ a signature bow. To the untrained eye, they might appear quite similiar, but a close observer-- or a gnoll-- is sure to tell the difference. Each bow is made to give it some kind of advantage in combat: the desert gnolls, for example, employ a bow that speeds the death of a heavily-damaged enemy, preserving their strength in the unforgiving climate; the forest gnolls stick their enemies deep and then rush in from the trees, mob-style, driving the arrow deeper with melee attacks.

Humanoids that befriend a gnollish tribe are sometimes given a bow, and by this bow they are identified as being a friend of that tribe.

Orcs

The brutish orcs that populate the West regard other races with disdain and adhere to a bizarre honour code that favours violence and pillaging. Offering gifts or trade to an orc is an insult to be met with death; those who try to surrender or compromise are also seen as undeserving of life. They do not farm crops or craft weapons, declaring such pursuits to be unorcish and dishonourable.

Kobolds

Kobolds in most D&D settings are the trap-laying little son-of-a-guns who like to hang around dragon lairs. That's more-or-less true for the kobolds in the Call of the West campaign setting, only they take it a little farther-- not only hanging around dragons, not only worshiping them, but worshiping and being beholden to a specific dragon. When that dragon dies, whether of natural causes or adventurer-related injuries, the kobolds stay in the dragon's lair, preserving its bones, celebrating its life and deeds in festivals and rituals, revering it for generations.

Gnolls of the West.

The American Indian analogue for this campaign setting are tribes of nomadic gnolls. They're not quite the savage, bloodthirsty beasts of mainline D&D-- they're sleeker and smarter, more likely to silently stalk their prey than just charge in screaming and butchering.

Much of what the player characters know about gnollish culture is filtered through a very Eastern prism, with the same sort of condescending racial attitudes and cultural prejudices that greeted the various American Indian civilizations in the American Old West. Whether they're regarded as subhuman or as Noble Savages, there's not a whole lot of real understanding going on.

I've also drawn a bit from Herbert's Dune, in that certain behaviours that seem alien and evil to "Eastern" eyes make sense within the context of the culture and its survival needs once you've gone inside it a little. From a pure storytelling angle, it's much more enriching to say, "Well, yes, they do do 'x', but here's why, and isn't that a neat bit of world-building" than to say, "no, that's just a hideous blood libel".

The Call of the West.

Centuries ago, the gods split the continent with a great river, separating good from evil, civilization from cruelty, East from West. The East become prosperous and safe, home to opulent spires, grand castles, and bustling city life, while the West became the domain of tribal gnolls and fearsome beasts.

But now, some children of the East find themselves drawn to the wild and free West. Some are in search of a new life. Some are running from the old. Some adopt a new name, a new identity, in a wilderness where no one is the wiser. Explorers, adventurers, and scoundrels all hear its call in equal measure.

For whatever reason, you have crossed the Great River and think yourself ready for the dangers that lay ahead...