I don't really know how it happened. Nor do I know what sort of sorcery is keeping me alive to this day. I can recount everything after that fateful night. Well, where are my manners? I am Revenaught a son of the night. My loyalties are to the moon and her soft light. I wasn't always like this, a stag with fur ass black as the night sky. My eyes hadn't always been white like moonlight. No, I was human. Yes I know, you may think I'm crazy but ti's the truth. My father was an Celt, as was my mother. We as a people lived in the Highlands of Scotland. My name then was Liam McNaughton. I can still on special occasions revert back to my human form. But it can only be done on nights of the blood moon when her highness is the color of spilt blood an bathes us in the crimson light of her shining face. Its when i appear the most human like. I can change other times but my ears remain like a stags, and my antlers are still perched upon my head.
Lads and Lasses, I want to tell you my story. It is one of war, dark magic and betrayal. Living in Scotland was hard. Under the rule of the British king the clans were separated and in poverty. It was every clan for themselves, and this often lead to inner conflict. As a young lad I would often find myself spending hours in the fields and woods. I can't express how much I loved the woods or the mountains. My clan had been tucked away in a valley surrounded by the large stone structures and woodlands. The village was composed entirely of my family, twenty of us total. The nearest village was a day and a half away-our cousins of the Mcdoughft clan from which my mother hailed. At the age of sixteen, two of my daughter fell ill during the winter. This is where my troubles began. I had already lost my wife two months before, I couldn't bear to lose both of my younger sisters. When the priest and the doctor could do nothing, I turned my back on everything i had been taught. I went in search of the spirits of old.