I've taken another life.

Earlier this week I have killed a bear and my mind is being destroyed by killing an innocent animal. This time however I slayed a man. I thank God that I still have my wits about me for now and that I have the composure to write these events down, but it is only a matter of time that fate pulls me towards more kills, and when it happens again I pray that bloodlust has perverted my mind because I'd rather die than take a life as the individual I am now. Under special circumstances, Lorekeepers are pardoned if their killing is justified and if is agreed upon that the most good course of action.. Although this kill can arguably be justified. This is destroying me inside. I have shown this world that I have the capability to kill, and I all I can do now is hope that this world will make my transformation into a tool of its murderous, treacherous design short and painless. I can count the number of times a Lorekeeper has killed someone on my hands and toes and I will be joining the rank of these traitors. I fully expect and welcome the banishment that will follow once my letters make it back to Madison, but for now, please, let me fulfill my last duty as a Lorekeeper and retrieve Janice's iPad. This will be my Penance.

I'm scared. I don't want to die. I can't take my own life because in my place more blood knights will take my place and kill more people. But I can't let assailants attack my comrades either.


After we had finally made it back to Benjicot's home to offer him some of the supplies we found at Aldi's for a map to Curtin, but to our horror were met with a scape of blood, ruin, and immobile animals, but the man could not be found. We found a nondescript map, but this map did not inlcude Curtin, but we couldn't stay to look for him. We had work to do. We left what we were going to offer him and took some supplies that we collectively determined to be of equal value. Bejicot's a hardy man, so we needed to make sure that our business relations remain strong. Please bear in mind that my ankle remained still injured from the fall at Aldi's and showed no sign of getting better, and in fact getting worse. A doctor's advice and two personal sprain accounts from my teammates suggested that my treatment included continuing to walk on the swollen foot.. The pain made the trip a hellacious ordeal. Every step caused the numb sensation of my foot to quickly shift into a sharp sting that radiated to the rest of my leg. I'll soon come to realize that the pain in comparison is a boon compared to what will happen. After an excruciatingly painful journey, we arrived in an urban zone. To be precise, we were in Crawley territory. To be even more precise, we were in an area rife with slavers who will undeniably either capture you if you're of use to them, or immediately kill you. We weren't sure where each of stood in their eyes, so we maintained a good distance hiding behind wreckage and turned over trucks, but something caught our attention. It . . . it was Benjicot. To say he is alive would be only be a half-truth. It became clear to us that the Crawleys pursued him because he knew something. Honestly, I wished we'd never see him again and then randomly heard from some rumormonger that his corpse were found dead in a ditch somewhere. That would have been easier. But no. We couldn't leave him alone so we had to devise a plan to resuscitate him to know what happened.

We found a barely-habitable home just outside of Crawley's jurisdiction so we could treat Ben's and mine injuries and rest. Kal treated his most grievous wounds with rudimentary stitching prowess and a basic crafts sewing kit. Likewise, he relieved some of the pain from my foot by setting it properly. This brief moment of peace was interrupted by voices as if it were on schedule. It happened to be two lackeys from the slave camp who somehow noticed or were informed about our presence. One stood over six feet tall while the smaller mousier one cackled as he held a weapon. Supposedly, guns used by minor members are empty and strictly used as intimidation. But what if this one particular goon had special power and in fact did have bullets? We didn't want to take the chance but we couldn't properly get away, Benjicot could not even move incapacitated and my foot kept me from helping.

Then this blur of actions and thoughts occurred. I think the bigger one had more confidence in his power and attacked and attacked me but the adrenaline kicked in and I brandished my blade once again. My skills as a killer are unfortunately decent and I struck him in a vital place. His face froze in a surprised position and it looked at me with those glassy eyes even as I slowly inched my way away from the corpse. I couldn't help but to think that the last thoughts he had was "why did you do this?" Of course, his orders were to go after us, but I the thoughts penetrated my brain over and over again. Upon return to Madison I will face disciplinary measures and judgment on whether or not this a justifiable kill.