Ardent roleplayer Kirk continues the journal entries of his character Katherine in our on-going Castles & Crusades campaign. These entries complement the Chronicles of the Amazing Trevor about the same campaign. Our next session is scheduled for this Monday and we should have Katherine's journal caught up with the chronicles before that so they will be in sync from that point on.
This is the morning after my last entry in my log. Last night was difficult to sleep. The continued bloodshed left me crying myself to sleep, but I have learned to not show my emotions. I felt no guidance yet.
Now, I must write of Trevor. We were attacked by wolves in the middle of the night. Trevor, he is amazing. He conjured two wolves of thin air which scared away the rest of the pack, then later, when he saw that I was in trouble, he offered to help me, by again conjuring, only this time, it was this huge image of a dragon that shot fire from its mouth. He must have thought highly of me and to get me out of trouble, for he reached deep into his soul to manifest such strong imagery as this. I was able to see through this imagery, but the wolf did not. It believed it was burnt.
And Brute saw it as real, too, and that it was hostile, and so he attacked it. Trevor was lucky that Brute's shot went wide. Before with the brigands, Trevor was quick to leave and that contrasts his actions now which were of good heart when he saw others in need. I was too early to judge him.
I certainly used my martial training, and these wild wolves were bent on finding us to be their next meal. I am not sure if I could have felled this wolf on my own, if it were not for Trevor. I did cause it some pain with my hammer, before it met its demise by Kulr's axe.
After the wolves were driven off, I found Onri was hurt. I called upon my deity, who must have looked unfavorably upon Onri. His faith could be lacking as his wounds were healed some, but did not close. I suggested that he pray more and give to a worthy charitable organization. But after thinking about it, he does not accept coin, like me. Maybe his wounds were deeper than what I initially saw. I should not be so quick to judge.
Let me write also a short remembrance of my Keith, of whom I travel borrowing his name. I dreamt of him. I cannot state how real the dream appeared and just like it happened yesterday. It was the time when he showed me how to move small objects with just his fingers. If only I had more time to practice. Then the dream shifted to another time when he taught me the whispering. We used it to tell each other things, without others knowing. I should try these again. Why did I give up these things that Keith taught me? The only one I have used routinely is the light song. My dream continued with me in the cell. I recalled that twice I was put there, for twice I was punished. I am not sure if I would have survived without the light song. It allowed me to write while in solitude. I remember the fun that Keith and I had. Is the punishment that I have something that I have self imposed? But now, I almost feel like he is with me, helping me, mentoring me. No, how can that be? He is gone from me, forever. I will always miss him.