In retrospect, this should not be surprising. An otherwise intelligent being puts his faith in a magic stone and it fails him, bathing him in a wash of humiliation. It is not irony. It is the furthest thing from irony. It is the most likely outcome.
Should songs be sung of me in later years, let it not be said that Fjord the Elf was without flaw. Too conceited for a journal? Perhaps. And I suppose I must put to parchment the whole sordid affair so that future adventurers might learn from my folly.
Yes, that's perfect. Fjord's Folly, the cursed stone, the great prank of the Temple of Elemental Evil. It lies on a river bed now, waiting for it's next victim to tease with promises of greatness. I do not regret leaving it intact. Only when it has someone else in its clutches will I ever truly feel free of it. I have no doubt it will be found.
No. I am simply too angry to speak of this right now! The short version:
1) My comrades and I slay some lowlifes and we divide their possessions.
2) I happily choose the so-called "magic stone of earth" with dreams of gaining unimaginable strength and power. Others in the party offer generous trades, but I wisely refuse.
3) I must wait 30 days to feel the effects and it becomes the longest month of my already long life, not the least because we waged unceasing battle against the Temple of Elemental Evil and a large Norse army intent on capturing Hommlet.
4) Finally, I feel the power of the rock flowing through me and even my muscles seem thicker and more taut than I have ever felt them. I feel that I could lift a boulder over my head and sling it into the heavens!
5) My associates aren't convinced, however, and inform me that they've never seen me so hunched and frail. Incredulous at their obvious jealousy, I prove to them my awesome strength by lifting a local Celt (one Ernst DeGaul "the Small", who weighed at least 25 stone) over my head and hurling him 15 yards across the courtyard.
6) Actually, I get him barely 3 inches off the ground before my back crumples and Ernst the Small lands on top of me, breaking two of my ribs. It takes three men to lift him off and I am carried away to a chorus of cheers, sneers and guffaws.
7) To add to my suffering, I discover that this rock is not only useless, but actually cursed and I am perhaps half as strong as I was a month ago! The rock is now bound to me and I could not cast it away without it finding me again in short order. I learn I will slowly wilt away to nothing within the year if nothing is done.
8) Marcus, Tyr'n and Vortigern come up with a solution involving several spells and I am saved from that dreadful fate, but the regret, the sense of loss and most of all the humiliation and hatred will remain with me forever.
I am supposed to be savouring a great victory (which I will discuss at a later time when I am feeling more victorious); fo now, the only thing on my mind is revenge.
And I will have it. I will have revenge on magic itself and all those who dare to use it against me!
