So… It’s been a while since I wrote one of these. A lot has happened, and I find myself with enough time to write now. Perhaps this will help me work some things out.
I’ve got a plan to build a tavern, a place where people can come to play games of chance, or perhaps just to contract mercenary or bounty hunter services. I found that the best way to avoid the law is to be mostly acceptable to the law here, so an open business is best. I can still run covert jobs for some extra cash, but a front will definitely be useful.
I’ve met a dwarf by the name of Lonfrik, a minstrel by trade. He’s a fine fellow, and I’ve hired him to help with the tavern once it’s built. He has a few friends who asked for his help with a matter of importance, I decided to tag along to help. I won’t say more here, they’ve been pretty secretive about it and I’m willing to bet that me blabbing (even to a journal) wouldn’t be appreciated. As it is, I had to return to Bree early anyway.
I received a job offer, a pretty well paying one too. It should have been an easy in-and-out recovery job, and I should have just stayed focused on the money. I got into a disagreement with the leader of the group, and I tried to sneak off. Pretty sure that’s where it went wrong. The leader got shot through the lung, and we got ambushed. We beat it off, but the leader is dead now… and it’s my fault.
That’s why I’m out here in the middle of nowhere now, writing a journal entry and trying to figure out where to go from here. And the worst part? Even putting my guilt into words hasn’t helped at all. I’ve killed before, many times, but for some weird reason this is worse than any life I’ve taken myself. I just… I miss home.
