| You always knew that the village of Dumpington wasn't big enough for you -- after all, it was just the one hut, and it was a small one. So, when you came of age, you decided to make a name for yourself as a Fighter. (You parents never gave you a name. You were hoping for "Judas".) One fateful day, you were strolling through the quiet village of Piehole when you met the town milkmaid. That worthy begged you to try and rescue the village idiot's comely homie, who had been kidnapped by jocks. Having little to do except save the world from an evil sorcerer or whatever, you took the quest. You weren't having any problems until you had to fend off half a dozen gangsters with your solar plexus trapped in a beartrap. Fortunately, most of them ran away when the beholder showed up, and you played dead until it left. That's not very heroic, but hey, it worked. But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Shadow King Poisoncoccyx held court over his horde of homely gnolls, and with uncountable swings of your shiv (and a few well-placed attacks of opportunity), you finally slew the horrible skank and rode back to town to claim your glory (and reward).
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