Where shall I start? My birth seems a logical place. I was the son of an elvish woman. A father? He was a human, a soldier of Tharis. I never knew him, because he raped my mother.

It seems rather odd talking about it this way, but I suppose telling people about things that hurt help the pain heal. Anyway, her village in the forests around Tharis was raided, the cityfolk hearing a rumor that the Elves were building a resistance there, in my mother's village. Well, they were. My mother was an errand-runner, a young, seemingly demure and quiet Elfmaiden, or to one of the Tharisian scum, an easy target.

The raiding party caught her as she was carrying a message of that party's very arrival to the Elves. The easy target killed 3 of them, her short knife sticking in the last so that it would not come free. The rest grabbed her, pinning her to the ground... the rest I'd rather not imagine.

Afterwards, they beat her senseless and dumped her in a nearby river. The villagers, suspicious as always, had alternate spy routes, so the raiders found the homes empty of people or booty. They burnt the village to the ground, camping in the ashes for a week in the hope the previous occupants would show themselves.

My mother was dragged from the river after being sighted by the fleeing resistance Elves. They nursed her back to health, but she soon after discovered she was with child.

One of the rarest couplings, an Elf and a Human, successfully conceiving, had occurred under the worst of circumstances. For a while, she was suicidal, but her friends helped her through it. Eventually she gave birth to a baby boy, an anomalous halfblood, joining human and elf as they never were meant to be - Designa, me.

The villagers were careful not to make me feel different from the other elves, so careful I noticed almost as soon as I could reason such things. My looks were almost totally elven, except for my jet-black hair, and the fact I had to shave often after coming of age. Carefully, I isolated myself from all human feelings and thoughts, in an effort to be just another Elf.

My mother raised me as an elf. Everything I knew was elvish, she also, was careful to ensure I did not slip towards the curses of Man. Like my mother, and many of the elves in the now-hidden village, I was a kindly, gentle person, with an inner core of fighting strength which kept us going - the Elves under persecution from humans, and me from the imagined and actual disdain for my halfblood status.

When I was old enough, an elderly elf who knew how to read and write, even speak the human's Common tongue, saw the curiosity in my eyes, with which I regarded everything I saw - storing knowledge away, learning about the most obscure things. At least obscure for my elven peers, who did not care for some of my inquiries. But the old man took me in, teaching me my letters, even (in secret from my mother) his knowledge of Common.

With the new skill of reading, many things I had wondered about were found in the old man's books. The villagers cared only for surviving - finding food, hiding from Tharisian raids, stealth and speed. I had talent in healing, an old Elvish skill yes, but which none other in the village had the chance to develop. When I reached manhood, in human terms, as my aging was that of the race of Man, not the slow crawl of my peers, I became the village healer, and with my letter-skills, scribe.

The calm dullness of my life ended with a Tharisian surprise attack. I fled, dragging my arrow-pierced mother until she broke free and told me to run. I saw her, crouching, face towards the advancing soldiers and a long metal arrow-head she had pulled from her own flesh wielded in her hand. I ran through the forest, until I fainted from exhaustion.

Waking in the deep night, I crawled towards a glimpse of light I could see. Reaching it, there I found my old teacher, curled into a fetal ball, blade-wounds staining his clothes and the ground around him. I thought he was dead, until his eyes opened and he spoke.

"Look up, Designa. What do you see?"

Looking up in puzzlement, I regarded the forest canopy. "The leaves of trees?"

Chuckling painfully, he spoke again. "Higher, in the sky"

I looked up, into a deep black sky, filled with twinkling stars and the moon's round, white face. "Stars and a full Moon"

He sighed, and said, "Yes, the moon".

The light I had seen was coming from a glowing object clasped in his hand, which he now opened, showing a brilliantly glowing brooch.

"Before I settled down in my old home, the village of my birth, now long destroyed, I was a Ranger of Selune, the Moonmaiden."

Blinking, I said, "Yes, I read of her in your books. You had a lot of them about clerical lore"

He smiled and clasped my hand. "And this brooch is a symbol of worship of Her. I want you to have it, I see the Selunic qualities in you. Find her temple, enter into Her service. You would make a fine Seeker."

"But I cannot take your symbol! You need that yourself!", I said in disbelief.

"I am dying, not even clerical powers can save me. Not that I have them, Selune abandoned me after I tortured a thief with Her spells, for stealing from me. She does not tolerate cruelty, especially by use of Her own strength."

"Is that why you came home", I asked softly, to which he nodded.

His other hand pressed the brooch into my palm. "Take it! You will need it in the times ahead. See how it glows? Only when in the presence of a true cleric should it do that, and I am not such."

A vague pain in my hand made me snatch it away, the symbol dropping to the ground. Where his fingers had touched me, in a clasp, the skin was red like it had been badly burned. "It burned me!", I exclaimed.

He painfully shook his head. "I burned you. The symbol rejects me, the heat of holding it is what keeps me alive and awake. Take it, it is yours."

I took the brooch, and the cool glow seemed to soothe the sting of the burns. Before my eyes, they healed, leaving faint brown scars showing where his fingers had clasped. He smiled. "She accepts you. Goodbye, my student and young friend."

His head sank to the ground, and his breathing stopped. What I hadn't noticed before, the raw red burns, matching those I had seen heal on myself, covered his palms and chest where the symbol had been held to. The symbol flashed, and a soft white glow moved slowly up his body, healing all his wounds, and smoothing away the pain in his face. The glow brightened, and he disappeared.

I camped on the spot for several days, regaining my strength. Taking the brooch, attached to my frayed tunic, I traveled north. I had heard of the city of Shadow, but I did not know where it was, except to the north of Tharis, which I could often hear, sometimes see (and always smell) to the west.

I reached the Rhapsody Inn a week after setting out on my journey. A frightened, timid half-elf wandering in the doors, clad in rags, must have been quite a sight. Humans were there, and I shied from their faces. I forced myself to talk with the barkeep, and food and drink like I had not had in weeks were mine.

I could not pay for the meal. No one in my village had ever used or mentioned money, seemingly a thing of Man to be despised with the rest. Dionysus began to go red in the face as I told him I didn't know how to pay for what I had already eaten and drank - when a clanking metal-clad man stepped up and dumped some money in Dionysus's hand. After the bartender left, the man turned to me and smiled, sticking out his hand.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I am Aenarion, Paladin of Torm."

Carefully, I took his hand and shook it. "I am .. am Designa, I escaped from a Tharisian raid."

Frowning, he nodded. "I do what I can to fight the fools in Tharis."

Taking a careful look at me, he added. "I think you should get cleaned up."

Leaving the inn, he mounted his horse and I walked beside him, not trusting the powerful animal. Up through Shadow he took me, showing me where everything was, and buying me some basic supplies - clothes, sacks, and some tools. I asked him where the Selunic Temple was. He explained it was off north, past a toll-gate, in Daggerdale, a dangerous place.

This time on horseback we both rode north, past the gate, through the town of Dagger, to the Temple. I gave him back his horse and thanked him for his trouble. He smiled and waved, and was gone.

The clerics of the Temple welcomed me, allowed me to keep the old man's symbol. For nearly 2 years I remained at the temple, studying the clerical arts, adding to my already quite large (surprising my teachers) book knowledge of the matters. So my gaining of a full Cleric position was accelerated.

I left the Temple to start the traveling life of Selunites. Every once in a while I would return, once staying long enough to help a Ranger, Cinque, enter into my Goddesses' worship. Across the Great Continent I traveled, offering healing, food and drink from my Goddesses' power to many. Even to Tharis I went, seeing the degradation of elf and Man alike, elves trodden on by Man, man living in the pit of his own filth.

The caution and watchfulness taught by my younger days warred with curiosity and loneliness. More confident, I began to talk with people instead of keeping to myself. I found Aenarion again, the tall, powerful warrior helping me obtain things I needed desperately. In return, I healed him and his horse and sometimes kept company with him on journeys. Not exactly a fair trade; but he seemed satisfied with it, and I enjoyed the way things were going. Others I also met briefly; Valadan the fighter, Gadalin cleric of Torm, Mahray follower of Istishia, Niveaus the Bard, others I forget to name. Some of those who are famous in the realm of ShadowGate I met, too numerous to remember for the purposes of Armise's filing.

After I had everything I thought I needed, armor, weapons, equipment, and money; I became a little cocky. I also turned to drink. Almost permanently drunk I haunted the Inns of Deku and around Shadow, especially the Rhapsody, trying to forget my childhood and stem the boredom settling over me. Even Aenarion's urging could not shift me, I had suffered too much fighting in the Realm, I decided. Time to rest and forget. My symbol hung unused, a tarnish beginning on its silver surface, from lack of care and spilt beverages.

A sudden wake up call came when I was attacked in Shadow's general store. I dragged my abused self in there, just as I was about to make a purchase, a thief jumped out and landed a knife in my back. After my revival by the Gods, I returned to find much of my equipment gone. In almost no time, I cleaned up and went running after Aenarion again for help. Patient with me as always, he agreed to help get replacements.

I began to journey again, to Deku and beyond Dagger mainly, even once to Laerad. Laerad I never want to return too. Horrible place. Graez I avoided; I didn't feel up to fighting such evil. My symbol's surface glowed again, and I wielded the power of my Goddess in her service. It was good to travel again.

And with most stories, this one continues on. Sitting around, having nothing to do, I wandered down to Shadow and began to scribble on another scroll. Events I have to write about, and those which I just want to, take form in my mind and on paper, as my pen moves across the page.

Well, most of my friends have heard the news. Designa, that little cleric of Selune who used to keep to himself so much, never really talking to people, is engaged.

Quite a bit after where I left off above, I stopped my adventuring again, in preference to just sitting in Shadow's main hall, talking to people. There I met Lydia, a cleric of Mielikki. My usual wariness of humans in general was shrouded in a light alcoholic haze; and I had also been getting used to being in their company.

We spoke for a while, I offered to help her get some things she needed. Well, she had to return to her temple to rest very soon, so we partied to Deku for a short while, clearing the graveyard nearby before she retired.

We saw each other on occasion, around Shadow and Deku. A little while passed in which I didn't see her at all. Then I did, she was at her temple, and wouldn't leave.

Something had happened, which I will not repeat, since I would not be able to tell the full tale. I have heard only a small part of it, and I did not wish to ask her to recount the rest.

Other Mielikkites, when visiting their temple, tried to comfort her. Dolza was there the first time I met her there, although on later visits we were alone. I comforted her as best I could; urging her to leave and adventure around. Second visit, she did.

My time adventuring on ShadowGate was limited severely during this period, but most of the time I could I spent partying with her, in widening areas. The Verre Bar she and I visited often, and we spoke of happenings around the lands.

An incident, after a party with her and someone I had never met before, Girruuth, caused a sudden change in my thinking. I had become rather protective of her, and my little chat with him hurried my feelings on further.

Although Girruuth promised not to interfere with Lydia and I after hearing what I had to say, I was a bit scared, and I admit, a little jealous, even a bit angry with Girruuth, which is almost totally against my nature.

Soon after I gained my low cleric rank at last, matching Lydia's own rank for the first time ever, and I asked Lydia to marry me.

Well, she said yes, but you may have guessed that bit.

Looking back on it, my style of writing makes it seem rather boring. If you have fallen asleep, wake up, I'm finished that part.

Not much of interest transpired between then and the next part of my story, apart from a little adventuring on Laerad with Daaku, Arian and my fianc, adventuring a lot of places with just Lydia and a bit of wandering by myself.

Recently, at least as of when I write this story, I was killed. The Creators of the ShadowGate realm made death small in consequence, although often people loose ranks within their professions due to the effects, however minor. I was able to regain corporeal status in time to retrieve most of my belongings from my killer; maybe even killers.

I confronted Girruuth in the Rhapsody with some disturbing things I had learnt about him, although I was a bit tipsy at the time, and had (unknowingly) alerted a Sharran, who was haunting the Inn, to my choice of faith.

He left, leading me, going back to shadow so that we could talk about his choice of deity out of range of whoever was grumping around invisible at the Rhapsody. In the middle of the conversation, the invisible Sharran stabbed me in the back, and nearly killed me in that single hit. I don't know how he found us, but he threatened Girruuth, and told him to leave.

I lay on the ground unconscious for what seemed an age. I was nearing consciousness, when someone hit me again. My mind perceived the invisible attacker talking to another invisible person, who tried some spells, eventually a cone of cold, which killed me.

I was furious with Girruuth for a while, thinking he had led the Sharran there, but he seemed sincere in saying he had not, so I accepted he had had nothing to do with it.

Wearily I returned to my temple to rest.

And my encounter with the forces of evil was not alone - indeed, many of my friends have tales like mine.

I saw my good friend Aenarion recently - he was barely recognisable. No longer did he wear his accustomed plate, riding his horse with a great pennant-bound Lightning Lance; clad in mere chainmail, wielding a sword, his horse nowhere in sight. His tale of woe is not for me to recall - suffice it to say he was taken, and tortured.

Luckily, even though I was too late to help him, others had... bringing him out of his drunken stupor, raving around the city of Shadow; Nivaeus and Chimera had found him a little while back.

Lydia, my beloved, was attacked in Shadow for no reason by Gabrielle.. the cleric of Loviatar who had supervised the beating of Zorena. If not for quick thinking and a spell in the right place, I don't know what would have happened to her. Gabrielle tried to disable Lydia with powder, but she managed to get in a quick word of power...

I am pondering what I should do, to run as I have for so long, or stand, fight and die, as surely will happen to me. Running will only prolong what is inevitable, or what seems to be so at this time...

Continuing...

We are hunted for no reason other than that we try to help. We restore order, heal people, bring hope, while that which hunts us tries to bring chaos, hurt, even kill, and spread dispair. The Raiders are part. The churches which oppose my faith and that of my friends, the dark churches, are most of it. Death rides on the wind, and it comes for us.

I have never killed apart from in self-defense, or in the defense of those I care for. I have never knowingly caused a death, I have never sought revenge. That which hunts does all these things, its agents are many, too many. No longer can I run, or hide behind my happy face and kindness.

Long have my many friends defended and protected me, since I am nearly helpless without them. I was caught without them by one who should have been insignificant, and eventually killed. They threatened my wife, with torture and death. My friends all, one by one, until I accepted their terms.

For a while I was angry, and not kind, and drove away friends and possibly potential friends. But as always, seeing my wife (yes, I finally married Lydia, though I will not write of that yet) calmed me down almost straight away. For the brief while we spoke, I thought many things, and afterwards, many more. Quicker than ever I was re-equipped and ready for combat, and began to work on replenishing my hoarded sacks of odds and ends, and my supply of money.

Soon tired of this, I carefully regained contact with my friends, most of whom hadn't even seen me while I was throwing my little tantrum. But I had realized several things while I had been thinking, the primary one was that without them, I was nothing. People had begun to call me high priest, a position I never earned in my mind. I gave whatever informal authority I had had to Tarot, a respected member of our Church, and all my support behind her.

Many things had happened while I was out of circulation, and also after I had calmed down. One of my best friends, and my favourite ranger of Selune, Vivian, had been threatened, then tortured, and threatened again, the last threat I think worse than the torture she suffered at the hands of Daelmas and Zilath.

They are part of that which hunts us.

I have hid, I have run, I have cowered before it, I have tried to ignore it, I have tried to talk to it, nothing works. It hunts us: my friends, those who I love, the woman I love more than anything in the world, and lastly, myself. I will meet it head-on at last, I will die many times, but I will leave my insignificant mark on its face, that it won't forget me, and I will have done something against it at last. My hand is scarred with new, imperfectly healed burns, I hide it behind my glove, struck by lightning and scorched with magic so malevolent that even my Goddess could not heal it.

If I succeed with everything I wish, no longer will it hunt us, it will flee. But, that shall be hard, and I doubt I have the strength. At least it should be stopped, for a while, so that others may live in peace, though we must be on guard constantly against it.

My friends, take hope. My enemies, prepare yourselves. I do not attack without warning like yourselves, though I shall still stab from the dark, when you least expect it.

...What do I seek? Peace at last, for all, a world healed from its hurts...

Somewhere I can stay with the woman I love, and explore with her

There is so much to know, but no time to learn...

DeSigna, Touched Stargazer, ever faithful of cleric of Selune