| You grew up the son of a bard, but decided such a profession was lacking in excitement. After much hard training, (if you never walk on my hands again, it'll be too soon) you finally became a mighty Fighter. Having heard many rumors about how Farc'b'n was being systematically sacked by a band of marauding bandits (who had already looted and burned the villages of Whacking, Klatch, and Madlib), and the ludicrous reward being offered for the arse of their leader, you decided it was finally time to put your mettle to the test. You had a good handle on it up until the part where you found yourself trapped between a crocodile's mouth and a gelatinous cube, with a weretiger bearing down upon you. That strawberry was pretty delicious, but it's didn't really make up for the damage to your elbow. But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Blood King Xxyrg held court over his horde of tattooed orcs, and with uncountable swings of your pike (and a few well-placed attacks of opportunity), you finally slew the horrible airhead and rode back to town to claim your glory (and reward).
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