Once again has the sheriff of Sandpoint taken us in confidence of horrific events which as usual I feel wholly inadequate in the face of. There are simply not enough hours in a given day to even learn a fraction of the thing’s I would consider necessary to being a useful member of this group, aside from healing magic, which can be replicated by drinking a potion. Thousands of years worth of plots and betrayals, triumphs and tragedies of which we play the briefest of parts in and yet it is just one place in a thousand on this land. I feel the strongest bonds shared by our small fellowship may be that each of us feel like lost spirits in our own way being carried on currents we barely glimpse at best, each one trying to make sense of the state of things in a way that allows for the contented continuance of our existence. I have gotten as far as I have by having answers, though not always the right answers, to certain questions encountered. I have not yet seen (or perhaps do not wish to) the answers to the vision which drove me from home and ever directly in the path of any malevolent intentions, in hopes of encountering the correct puzzle pieces and perhaps I already have.