| Life was hard as an orphan on the streets of Mudhole, without a nephew or wife to teach you right from wrong. On the other hand, you wouldn't have grown up to be such a talented Thief otherwise. At the tiny tavern on the outskirts of the Village of Whacking, you were trapped in a conversation with a man who had clearly had more than his fill of tequiza. He told you about the great plague of lions that had beset the entire region of Phleberron, and of the rumor that the evil Troll Dave was the source of the unpleasantness. You resolved to find the villain and dispatch him, mostly to get the drunk guy to shut up. It wasn't a thing at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those goblins. That lich picked the total worst time to eat your staff. Bruised but unbroken, you readied your Leatherman and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Black Sorcerer Evilthing's army of quarter-witted gnolls. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil spaz into his own beartrap, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Marmosettia.
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