18th February, 1632

Last night, we failed to catch the warwoolf, though both Rupert and I sighted it. Rupert opened fire on it, but was unable to stop the daemonic beast, which fled into the woods. I am beginning to take a liking to this mercenary; he certainly seems pure of heart, and is valuable to have in a fight as well.

We tracked the warwoolf, but its pawprints were erased by light rain, no doubt conjured by the foul beast. Rupert and I have arrested five likely suspects, based on our own observations, the locations we saw the warwoolf at, and the villager's claims.

"At once a man, yet not a man,
Beast hidden away within
The shape-shifter is forever damned,
Carrying their eternal sin."

A drawing of a werewolf