[ WP ] You are the guy who makes all those magical/cursed items that people are always stumbling across .

Journal of Magical Crafting 
 
 September 19th - Year of the Bloodgriffin 
 
 9:30 am... ish. 
 
 God. Damnit. First, nuts to this stupid journal and the crazy old man that's making me keep it. `` Log your progress'' he said. `` It will lead you to be a better Artificer'' he said. The hell it will. Eight years fetching Dak'larean Choking Fungus and trying to bottle universal solvent and what do I have to show for it? Nothing, that's what. 
 
 Oh I've made all kinds of stuff. A necklace of perfect pitch - cursed - it strangles its wearer. A ring of iron grip - cursed - ca n't let go. A shield of invulnerability - cursed. A pouch of holding - cursed. A diadem of curse detection - super cursed. 
 
 Also a vorpal sword of cutting your own god-damned legs off, three wish-seeking compasses of pointing anywhere but freaking north, and a decanter of endless humidity and unpleasant odor. 
 
 So, sensing a pattern, I decided to play to my strengths, save the world from all of these misshapen creations and turn my education around. For the last three weeks I've been working on it. Using wood harvested from the dark jungles of Mac'riteth where the Vampire Swarms make their nests and rivets cast of hammered starmetal, I constructed a teleportation cabinet. Now I know what you're thinking: moron, that's way beyond your ability, you ca n't even get a stupid ring of iron grip to work right. 
 
 See, that's the clever part. I ca n't. It'll be cursed and cursed teleportation cabinets are one of the most dangerous things in the magical world; they'll rip you apart so badly that even the high priests ca n't resurrect what's left of you. It'll be great, I'll fill it full of all my screw ups, close the door, and start over. It's a perfect way to get rid of all of these cursed items. 
 
 -- - 
 Journal of Magical Crafting 
 
 September 19th - Year of the Bloodgriffin 
 
 9:45 am. 
 
 Or it would have been. If it had been cursed. Which, of course, it was n't. Damn it.
