[Shrowd Umbra]

Much has happened and much leaves me questioning old things I had thought settled. I have come to even wonder if I am perhaps not too hard in my approach to life.

It began with Emry. We were walking another tour of Dregar together, a chance for me to see the area around Vale. We came across the hidden path to Folian's temple, a wondrous place. The animals were at peace, the wolves howled their serenade in the distance, and all the world seemed at peace. The temple was breath taking in its own way, a secluded glade with free running water and a wild berry orchard. I may yet visit again.

From there we traveled to the deserts, made fools of the giant watchmen. Though we parted ways in civilization I pressed on, and even discovered a cave I have long heard of but never seen. It holds everything I expected and more. Now I need only devise a means to safely mine it.

My return to Mistone reaquainted me with Ash, a monk of growing skill, and introduced me to Rodlin, a ranger of considerable experience. Together we traveled from the Black Dog moors to the temple of Elements. It gave me a chance to gather the last few panther pelts, and to learn of Folian and the history of Rodlin somewhat. He is the one of the few I know that has seen a dragon face to face, and he has the scars to prove it. He says they are near impossible to kill, like fighting a scaled mountain with wisdom and intelligence beyond compare. I still feel compelled to prepare for the coming battle.

We talked of Folian as well, even after Ash departed to study in the temple of elements. I must admit, Aeridin is not my calling and I would wish to know what it is to walk with faith. I see it in Lyr and others like him. Clerics and druids do more than call upon magic, they almost seem to have another presence with them inspiring them. I told Rodlin I wanted my life to carry on more than just my pack, not that I begrudge Tanal and the wolves. I want to do something lasting in this world, for this world.

The next day I caught up with Unther Hardhammer, and joined him and his friends in a quest through the Village of Mists. Dan Hardhammer was there as were Maran and Fleur. I had the chance to meet a new face, an assasin I expect by the way she moved. I know now to be respectful of the woman with the fox medalion, she fights with grace where Dan fights with dwarven ferocity. The bandits were a force to be reckoned with, I only managed to strike killing shots on two out of hundreds. Fleur was kind enough to give me a Cloak of the Watchers and a book on ranger magic for my share.

Though our numbers dwindled to the lovers and the Hardhammers, we delved into the great rift. Like the village, this place was devoid of magic and filled with danger. Giants, spiders, beetles and in the very deepest parts where magic once again thrived we met the Dark Elves. The venture required making camp at least once but we each came away with a diamond.

My armors were soon finished. Lion leathers, Leopard leathers, and even some panther leathers all came out wonderfully. It will be another season before I can wear such things but the wait will be worth every bit I think. My dilemma is the White Stage armors, two of them. One was made of hide but too awkward to wear without more training so I made a more supple leather variant. The armors glow softly with an almost holy radiance. The magic invested into them protects against disease and lessens venoms, both qualities one wants in magical armor in my line of work. Yet I look at them and wonder if the White Stags are more than simply deer of a wintry color.

I came across Dan once more, and Caerwyn the druid(Editor's Note: Shrowd has trouble telling the diferance between high level druid and high level Ranger/Wiz though the not shapeshifting should have been a clue). The hunting was difficult but nothing that was not overcome with nature's aid. It gave me a chance to ask Caerwyn about the White Stag problem, though I did not admit to making the armors myself. He said the story about them involves Xeen. One of her lovers she reincarnates as the White Stag. I doubt this very much as I have very real numbers as to how many Stags there are in Mistone, more than one but less than many. Still, I would not want Xeen's wrath upon me. He suggested I ask Sophia myself, as I recall she owes me no favors and with good reason. We did not meet well.

My usual routines continued. I sold off my cougar hide armor cheaply to a thief by the name of Sekko. I needed the money to fill an offer from Lance as to some jewelry of a magical nature. I should not have sold so low, my armor was worth well more than that but still, he had no more to give and I got what I needed for the time. My rounds of knocking over bandits and goblins for true brought me across three others of note. A cleric of Katia, another of Aeridin, and a dwarf with a wonderfully endearing violent streak. Together we put down a number of monsters and bandits. We even ventured into the Haven mines a bit. It gave me another chance to again ask about the White Stag. I think Victoria, the cleric of Aeridin, about fainted. Cardan of Katia seemed sick. Both agreed anyone who would do such a thing was evil.

And here I am now, wondering where to tread from here. I would love to live in peace as Aeridin teaches us to live but that is so impractical. Someone has to invoke violence if nothing else to defend life. Goblins do not respond well to peace offerings, dark elves seldom bother with the meaning of the word. My own kind while capable of doing good never go about it in a peaceful manner. Toran and Roferien are hardly pacifistic about pursuing what they feel is good. Doing what is good and doing what is right seldom seem to come together for me. A harder edge is needed for dealing with some things.

While delving again into the Haven mines as part of a quest, I came across an elven prisoner and ogre prisoners. Freed the elf and shot the ogre, to Maran's disgust. He berated me as doing something wicked but what am I to do? Let the Ogre wander free and hurt someone before I kill it? It was not Grovel cheerfully introducing itself, it was a prisoner of the war between Gnoll and Ogre. It very much wanted to beat the bars down and throttle us even before I shot it. Instead we left it to the mercy of the Gnolls, something I am certain is a worse fate than a few arrows.

I very much wish I had someone to tell me where to go from here. Someone whom had stood where I stand and knew the course to take. Then again knowing myself as I do, I think I will be happier choosing my own course. I am not merciful like Aeridin and Az'atta. I do not take the world in black and white like Roferien and Toran. I will just take it as it comes, and I think I will make use of the armor. The meat fed my pack so why give the hides to waste?