| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Reeves with a bottlecap-shaped birthmark, who would grow up to be the greatest Wizard ever known. You have a birthmark like that, but at first you were only a sort of okay Wizard. Everyone has to start somewhere, I guess. Having heard many rumors about how Routh was being systematically sacked by a band of marauding jocks (who had already looted and burned the villages of Whacking, Ironforge, and Pittsburgh), and the ludicrous reward being offered for the calf of their leader, you decided it was finally time to put your mettle to the test. You were kickin' ass and chewin' bubblegum but you soon were confounded by a fiendish color-matching puzzle, and by the time you figured out to solve it, you were unhappy as an underfed earwig. However, you knew you'd never be a mighty adventurer if you let a little setback like that stop you, and damned if you were going to end up a serf in some crummy backwater like Sudoku or Cold Crick. So you pressed onward until you discovered the lair of the Skull Warrior Mephistor, and after a long and dramatic battle you successfully put an end to his evil ways. And then you looted the hell out of his hideout.
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