By Beth Griese

Date:   March 3, 1995

Quote of the Day:
"No, I whistle while I work.  OF COURSE I follow him quietly."  --Stu Collins

To Garen Thundersson, cleric of Mielikki. From your faithful servant, Jade.

In your absence, I have decided to write a log of my activities to better inform you upon your return of the events that have occurred. This way I hope to prove worthy of your trust in leaving the home and the city in my care.

I picked up this blank book today while in Eveningstar to get supplies. Unfortunately, my first news for this journal is not good, as a cretin from the caravan that had just arrived in town decided he would try to pick me up at the general store. By Mielikki, Garen, I tried to politely ignore the oaf and go on with my day, but this only encouraged him to use other methods to try to gain my company. He offered me money. I tried again to respond civilly, and pointed out that perhaps I did not look like a common whore, but he was not so easily dissuaded. Obviously, stronger methods of discouragement were called for, and after only a brief time, that discouragement left the foul fellow on the floor.

I sought a drink after this infuriating event, which was perhaps just as well, since otherwise the captain of the Purple Dragons may have had to call out a warrant for me. As it was, he found me at the bar and informed me that the lout I had laid low was now interesting in pressing charges. The captain offered to allow me to pay a fine, but I would have none of that injustice, and told him I would stand in court against the man.

This whole scene attracted the attention of a few of the other newcomers from the caravan. An elvish man of high airs and a taste for evermead asked me about my troubles, as did a young fellow who looked to also have some of The People in his blood. They seemed to immediately know the man I described to them, and said he was a troublemaker of the past named Henderson. The elf left for a while, to be quickly followed by an eager (are there any other kind?) gnome. The half-elf tried to choke his way through "recommended" ales until the other two returned. What they did, or the motivations of any of the three, I care not to speculate on. The elf hurried upstairs before he'd even speak, which left us at the mercy of the gnome until we all fled to our rooms.

I write this in my bunk instead of under the trees while I wait for this court session. I think I'll request a counter-suit and the privilege of carrying the sentence out myself on the morrow. I await your return, as always,

Your faithful servant,

--Jade

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