The Black Wolf

[Guest]

March 30th, 1676

On a whim I have decided to put my escapades to ink. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances, I write it with my left hand, lest my normal writing be recognized, and I shall not use my own name. These are just minor precautions and, indeed, done more to promote my own interest in this journal. Because should someone come across this work, they could easily piece together the author, especially if it was found in my possession.

But what fun is anything without risk? Without a gamble? Thus I write on, disdainfully ignoring the dangers of doing so. Should anyone put two and two together, and find four, they will also find another two. The barrels of my two pistols, that is.

London is so fun. Much more exciting than Stamford. It is only my third day in the city, and already so much has happened. I have met countless beautiful and rich women, and some that are both! Plus I have begun some plans that should catapult me to riches, power and fame. All will fear and respect me. There is no time to waste!

-The Black Wolf

[Guest]

April 1st, 1676

I cannot believe I forgot to mention it. I shot a man a few days past. Likely killed him. Poor sot, his Master, or mistress, I am still not sure, had the gall to give me lip. I warned them, so the fool of a noble got a nice boot to the face, and the unlucky servant a bullet. And the very next night I gave a man the means to kill another. Got a nice bag of loot out of it though, and possibly an expendable accomplice for further jobs. We shall see.

I have been so caught up in the sights and sounds, the ladies and the fashions of London, that I have let some of my schemes fester. This is simply not acceptable, I must be bold and push forth. Both my names will be household words, I swear it.

I met the most delightful creature the other day as well. Gwendolyn Llywelyn. That is a name I shall not soon forget. Beautiful and with a voice to match, not to mention a healthy dose of attitude. If ever there is a woman that could confine me to one bed, she might be it.

-The Black Wolf