Campaign Logs

The Jade Letters

By Beth Griese

Date:   June 7, 1997


Bearded fellow

Supreme Being

Jim Leitzel


Blonde human

Tempus Cleric

Brian Smith

Lorivar Menasson

Short, dark and hairy Monk

Vaughan Herron


Gypsy woman


Beth Griese

Nory Gnome Illusionist / Thief Stu Collins
Telaran 1/2 Elf, Buzz cut fighter Jim Gaynor
Verence Gallow Thin human Mystra Cleric Kent Jenkins

Quote of the Day:
"Normally, we settle our disputes by gagging the gnome." -- Brian Smith
"When you call me a scrawny weakling, I put your hand in warm water." - Kent Jenkins

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

I wish I were better with words, Master Garen. I wish that I could speak as easily as Verence does. Even Nory, though annoying, at least has no problems expressing what he feels. But I can never find the important words when they are needed. I'm worried that you've been hurt by our last visit, Master, and my heart feels sad, as if I've lost something that's been with me so long that I never realized I might miss it when it was gone.

I was so nervous when we finally arrived at your cottage that I almost didn't notice that the rest of the party - all except Borreau, of course - went to the inn at Eveningstar while we awaited your arrival. True to your word, you appeared on Midsummer's eve. I was glad to see that Soorathea is still traveling by your side - she seems a good woman, and was certainly kind to Borreau in what must have been a tense two days.

It surprised me when you told me you had to speak to me privately on urgent business. Here I had been considering how to say the same thing - amazing how simple you made it sound. I hope you don't mind that I let you speak first before letting you even know that anything was on my mind. I never would have expected you would need to ask me for anything, let alone my weapon. My prize sword, that's served me so well in so many battles. But I've offered prayers to Mielikki since we parted for you and your friends' success battling the arch-wizard Manshoon's bizarre plans for immortality. I hope my sword will be of use to you.

I was shaking so badly when I finally had to speak that I can only hope it didn't embarrass you. I'll never forget the look of shock... and, I think, hurt... on your face when I handed you that bag of gem and coin. I had saved every coin since we parted at Midwinter's, Master, all with one thought only - to buy myself. Each time Borreau kissed me, each time the party asked me for my thoughts, any time someone asked me to speak for the Wayfarers, I worried that I was not my own to offer to any of them. Until that moment when I handed you all the money I had gathered - over 10,000 in gold, all told - all I had considered was what would be enough to be a fair price for myself. I hadn't considered how it might hurt you to be treated like my owner. I want you to know that I heard every word you said to me that evening, Master, and that I agree with you. We gave up long ago acting like owner and servant - you're the dearest and best father I know. But that never changed the fact that you did own me, and what I did that night had to be done so that I could feel free to give myself to my friends, to my party, and most especially to the cleric I'm in love with.

Thank you for not taking all of the money I offered you - what you left me with should be enough to buy another sword, with some magic in it, to replace the one I loaned to you and your party. And though I'm no longer an owned woman, I pledge again that I am always part of your house. Your sigil on my neck is still a mark of pride to me, and I look forward to next Midwinter as much as I ever looked forward to our meetings. Perhaps even more so, now.

My apologies again for Nory's behavior when the rest of the Wayfarers joined us the next day. He never means to be as insulting as he is, and my thanks to you for treating him - and the rest of the party - so graciously. I think they liked you, even the gnome, although I'm afraid the same can't be said for your friend Valkirk. They met your barbarian fighter companion in the inn in town. I didn't get all the details, but from what I gathered, Verence and Telaran served him with an herb cocktail the night before to try to humble the loudmouthed fighter. They didn't succeed then nearly as well as they succeeded that afternoon.

Sparring with Valkirk was a lesson in humility, although I expected no less from one who fought well enough to travel with you. But when he insulted us all and refused to believe that a woman could even stand battle with him, I welcomed the chance to blow off some steam by sparring. All I could tell during the fight was that Valkirk struck as soundly as a horse's kick. I'm happy that I at least got some solid blows onto the barbarian, although I still ended up eating dust. It was Verence who realized that Valkirk wore a magic breechcloth that gave him his strength.

If you get the chance, please send our apologies again to Valkirk. I'm sure Verence didn't realize how horrified the barbarian would be by our Mystra cleric's brief interruption of his magic. I was still face-down in the dirt at the time, but I've heard at great lengths now about how... striking... the change was in the muscle-bound barbarian when his magic was taken away to reveal him as skinny and scrawny as any magician might look. Verence is sorry. He hasn't said as much, but I'm sure he is.

I just hope the party doesn't put two and two together and realize that it's Valkirk who now carries my sword. They noticed immediately the next morning that my sword had left with you. I explained the reasons for it, which the party accepted, although Verence immediately brought up the very thing that had been on my mind - how can we propose to battle drow and undead armies without our strongest weapon? The same thing has been plaguing me, and I hope we find the confidence to figure it out in the next few days. I didn't tell the rest of the party about my purchase; they've never known for sure that you owned me in the first place, although I think some of them may have guessed. Only Borreau knew, and knows now. He told me to send you his thanks and regards with this letter.

We're on our way to Arabel now - Nory and some of the others could use some training, and I, of course, need to shop for a new sword. It will be good to visit Arabel again. We're also going to stop along the way and see if we can track down some snipers that have menaced a few passing caravans on the road between Eveningstar and Arabel. Telaran knew a caravan master in Eveningstar who had fallen victim to these thieves and assassins.

My logs will continue as always, my friend and father, and I will keep you up on how well I fare on my own trail. It was wonderful to see you again, although I hope Midwinter's Day will be much more relaxed.

Faithfully yours,


The Jade Letters are the property and copyright of Beth Griese, not to be published or redistributed without permission.

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