| You always knew that the village of Whacking 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 "Marlon".) As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Foobar just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Giant Morgar, who had poisoned the town's tarantula population. Against your better judgment (and with the hope of fat loot to come), you agreed to try and bring the villain to justice. You were rocking the house up until the part where you found yourself trapped between a meat grinder and a cheese-grater, with a rust monster bearing down upon you. That strawberry was pretty delicious, but it's didn't really make up for the damage to your arse. 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 stableboy in some crummy backwater like Dumpington or Cabbagetown. So you pressed onward until you discovered the lair of the Ice Necromancer Goldthwait, 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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