The bright sunlight streamed across the Coastal Cliffs as the Hour of Lumnis passed into the Hour of Phoen on a fine Imaerasta day. The year was 5097 of the Modern Era and I was returning to the Temple of Luukos for another attempt at ridding the lands of one of its scourges, the Lesser Red Orcs. I was a frequent visitor to those hunting grounds, and had just completed my fifth training session. As I entered the underground ruins, I noticed a slight odor in the air, the musky scent of gnolls, an odor that was not familiar in this home of orcs and vysans. Being young and foolish, I have since ceased being young, I continued my hunt oblivious to the warning that my senses provided. When I reached the southernmost portion of the ruins, the odor of gnoll was overwhelming, and I noticed that a previously smooth wall had been breached to reveal a dark hole. I blinked in surprise, fully realizing that the hole had not been there minutes before. Having left the turnip farm seeking adventure, I took myself up on my pledge and entered the hole. I found myself in a small recently excavated room and facing the opening of a natural cave from which the reek of gnoll emanated.

A faint light pulsed from the opening and I soon found that the source was a rich array of glowing mosses that covered the walls of these Mossy Caverns. Traveling down the southwestern branch of the cave, I came upon a Thief Gnoll. His cruel eyes examined me as I approached and I waited for his assault. I had heard tale of Thief Gnolls in the Gnollish stronghold of Cavernhold, but I had never encountered one myself. This gnoll attacked me with a pole arm that I later learned was a flamberge. His thrust missed me and I was able to slay this foe with relative dispatch. Smiling slightly at my success, I continued to the southwest and was startled as I met a Gnoll Master. I cautiously took a defensive posture and waited for his assault.

Instead of attacking me, the Gnoll Master smirked. I knew that something was awry, as I was not in the practice of having Gnolls interact with me. I arranged a weak smile and stammered out, “Ummmm … Hello.” “Wise Human,” the Gnoll replied. I quickly realized that I was outmatched and decided that charm was my only hope of survival. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gnoll,” I continued, “is this a new place?” “No .. this is my home and you and your human friends will come and wreck it,” the Gnoll Master replied. “But .. but .. I like gnolls,” I implored. “Get out!” boomed the Gnoll Master as he took a mild swing at me. I knew at that moment, that I had but one choice to ensure my survival, run. Being a bit of a scalawag myself, I stuck out my tongue at the Gnoll Master and ran into the next room. He followed me and I repeated the action, staying just ahead of his swinging blade. The Gnoll Master yelled, “You will die for your intrusion, human!” I sprinted off to town to report this to an adventurer more capable of handling this fierce foe.

With the Gnoll Master on my heels, I ran through the cliffs to town and found an older friend, Lord Gwalmachei, the nobleman ranger, sitting on a stump in front of Hearthstone Manor. I quickly relayed my tale and he joined me for a look at this beast that spoke the common tongue.
We had barely left town, when we met the Gnoll Master on the old merchant road. The Gnoll Master glared at me with hatred in his eye and cut me down in a single powerful blow. Lord Gwalmachei cast a spike thorn that dragged the Gnoll Master to the ground and pierced his skull with a deadly blow. A cleric gated to my corpse and I was brought to live once again. I led Gwalmachei and the cleric to the Mossy Caverns which were now full of gnoll chiefs and gnoll leaders of all types. We trekked our way through the throngs of beasts and discovered a stone bridge spanning a large pool of water. Crossing the bridge, we entered the Shrine of Onar. Seven stone monoliths formed a crude triangle in the room. Thin beams of wood with glowing vines growing on them were arranged on the top of the stones. The strange canopy and silent stone guardians seemed to lend the shrine a dark sense of security. The deity honored by the shrine was not obvious until we noticed a small carving on a monolith. On the monolith was carved the image of a cracked white skull on a field of black, the symbol of Onar, Assassin of the Gods.

-Jhernish Mousestones, Bard to the Masses