[Simon puts on the Helm of Disjunction and time stops and the environment around him unravels] Elminster Aumar : There he is, the great Simon Aumar, sorcerer descended from wizarding blood. Simon Aumar : Who are you? Elminster : Don't you know me? My name is Aumar too. Simon : You're my great-great-grandfather. Elminster : [chuckles] That's quite the helm. What makes you think you're worthy of it? Simon : I believe in myself? Elminster : You're asking me? Simon : No, I'm-I'm sure. I'm a great sorcerer. Elminster : Are you now? Funny thing about magic: it chooses who may wield it and it does not suffer fools. Simon : Why are you telling this? Elminster : Oh, I think you know, Simon. [taps the helm off Simon]

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