| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Crunkleford with a wallet-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. In the fiefdom of Goldthwaitia, in the unpleasant-smelling backwater of Malph, you found an inn with cheap mead and spent the night carousing. There, you heard a tale of the forgotten treasure of the Gold River, lost for ages during the time of the great rain of %pluralanimals. You decided to seek the treasure yourself, heedless of the literal mountain of skeletons of those who had tried before you. It was pretty easy, until you dropped your nunchuks in a vending machine and couldn't get it back out. Wouldn't you know it, that was when the hobgoblins showed up. Nevertheless, you fought your way through evil overlord's tower, dispatching tramps left and right, and finally arrived at the throne room of the Frost King Arc'klor. After a long and dramatic battle, you plunged your sword into his calf. The entire dungeon unexpectedly began to collapse as soon as the evil assjacket was dead, but you managed to escape with your life, and claimed your reward from the grateful people of Burglechester.
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