69
As you approach the old Elf's table, a beer in hand, it's clear you want to have a chat with him. A young man, one of the regulars, discreetly offers a warning:
“If you want to talk to the old man, be prepared for all sorts of nonsense. He's been hanging around here so long he might have been here before the place was even founded, a few centuries ago. In any case, he's completely senile and delusional. He boasts about having killed elephants, for example, creatures that are like mice bigger than giants with a tube for a nose and tusks like a boar. Completely bonkers.”
You ignore the warning and sit down next to the old Elf, offering him a drink to start a conversation. The old man quickly becos talkative:
“Have you heard of the War of the Many Rings? It was a long ti ago: a dark sorcerer had discovered a way to mass-produce rings of power. Faced with this threat, from both n and Elves, an alliance among professionals in magical items was ford. They launched a major dia offensive against the sorcerer and sued him for unfair competition. The confrontation was epic, taking place in the High Court of Comrce of Magtalas. The sorcerer's main defense was the satisfaction of his custors, and indeed, not one failed to defend him. But just when all hope seed lost and the rings of power appeared destined to beco commonplace at ridiculously low prices, the prosecution presented the surprising results of an investigation! These rings of power posed a serious risk to ntal health, slowly eroding the willpower of their users through an addictive effect and a slight ntal control exerted in favor of the dark sorcerer. Faced with this ‘design flaw’, it was decided that these rings of power did not et quality standards. They were all recalled to the factory and lted down. The compensation was so great that the sorcerer's power was broken for a ti. Deeply in debt, he had a finger amputated by a pawnbroker for his late paynt. The man also seized the prototype of the power rings, unaware that he would cause his own downfall and allow the Dark Lord's revenge…”
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This strange story vaguely reminds you of sothing, but in a very different version.
“Right,” said the old Elf, “rumors and legends have since distorted History… But let tell you the rest, because it is at this point, a few centuries later, that I enter the scene. I am brilliant at it, and I even beat a Dwarf in a drinking contest, not to ntion the elephants. So, it turned out that nine ring users, completely addicted to them, had remained loyal to the Dark Lord and helped him raise new capital to rebuild his business. But to regain his original power, he needed to find the codes to his secret bank accounts hidden in Fortnaïmr, and these were engraved inside the prototype of his power rings. The Dark Lord then took enormous risks, borrowing monstrous sums to afford to send countless minions in search of his precious…”
You thank the delirious Elf for his story and seize any pretext to escape to 95.
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