| Lacking the patience to be a Mage and the brawn to be a Fighter, you decided to be the next best thing: a professional chef. Sadly, your recipe for sauteed pound cake was unappreciated by the plebes in your tiny hometown of Molehill, so you became a professional Thief instead. As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Mudhole just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Warlock Grunwold, 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. Everything was hunky-dory at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those jocks. That roper picked the total worst time to eat your nunchuks. Bruised but unbroken, you readied your "Rod of Lordly Might" (if you know what I mean) and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Shadow Knight Shadowlost's army of red-headed tramps. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil gimp into his own vending machine, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Calamaria.
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