| You grew up the son of a town crier, but decided such a profession was lacking in excitement. After much hard training, (if you never stand on my head again, it'll be too soon) you finally became a mighty Fighter. As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Phlegm just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Lord Badfella, who had poisoned the town's banana slug population. Against your better judgment (and with the hope of fat loot to come), you agreed to try and bring the villain to justice. At first it was a real breeze, at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those goblins. That rakshasa picked the total worst time to eat your halberd. But all that drama couldn't stop you. You'd never given up on anything, not even your childhood quest to brush all the goldfish in your hometown of Foobar. So you kept going, right into the tallow rending plant of the evil Marquis Dave. Fortunately for you, he was out for lunch at the time, so you could grab some loot and get out before you got your knee handed to you.
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