Jari Journal 8-11-11

“What are you?” the young half-elf asked.

I’m one with manners, for a start, which is more than can be said for some, came the inaudible reply. Jari dropped the gleaming serpentine black-blade at his feet and took a step away. He knew that he could trust nothing anymore. Up and down now hold theoretical debates in his inner monologue. There was no denying it; reason had betrayed him. What if all of the rules are just tarrasqueshit, he wondered. Gingerly laying a finger on the sword, Jari listened. At came at first as a hum. But with no sound. There was no movement. Nothing to feel. Yet there it was. As the frostbitten fingers reach numbly for a match to keep warm, Jari’s mind reached out: I apologize. I am Jari Pitkanen. How are you called? he thought. There’s no need to be so formal my friend. My name is Tuoja Myrsky, but you may call me the Stormbringer. I’ve been waiting for you, came the reply. Are you a being trapped in the sword? Insofar as you are trapped in a sack of meat. Yes. I’ve heard of others like you before, thought the meat. Somehow I doubt that. You said that you had been waiting for me. What did you mean by that? You already know the answer to your question yet you ask it anyway. This game is fun. Why are you frightened? But know I the answer? Am I playing fair? You’re a clever one aren’t you Storm? Well, while it is lovely to make your acquaintance, I’ve only recently escaped from a savage island filled with cannibals and disease. I now step back onto the path I must walk. My wits must be sharp and my direction keen. But Jari. I had so many plans for us. Plans. Like what? Fun. Now tell me. What do you know about pirates?

Jari Journal 8-11-11

Serpent's Skull BretHart