| When you were growing up in the little town of Dumpington, you always wanted to be a mighty Ninja. You ended up being a Fighter instead, because you didn't have the right prime requisites. As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Cheddarwurst just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Knight Arc'klor, who had poisoned the town's boa constrictor population. Against your better judgment (and with the hope of fat loot to come), you agreed to try and bring the villain to justice. It wasn't a thing until you got attacked by more indigent native tribesmen than you could handle. You were lucky to get out of there with your face intact! But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Shadow Lord Goldthwait held court over his horde of quarter-witted kobolds, and with uncountable swings of your brass knuckles (and a few well-placed attacks of opportunity), you finally slew the horrible arse and rode back to town to claim your glory (and reward).
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