| When you were growing up in the little town of Buttole, you always wanted to be a mighty Paladin. 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 Bobcat just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Marquis Frazool, who had poisoned the town's weasel population. Against your better judgment (and with the hope of fat loot to come), you agreed to try and bring the villain to justice. There was no drama in the LBC at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those indigent native tribesmen. That bugbear picked the total worst time to eat your 10' pole. Fortunately, "giving up" isn't in your dictionary (probably because it's two words), so you persevered. You fought your way through countless orphans and gnolls -- even a gazebo! But eventually you found the lair of the sinister Terror Sorcerer Diabolico, and were able to defeat him by knocking him into a cookie jar with a lucky critical hit. Bruised but successful, you made it back to the nearby city of Prefectford and claimed your reward.
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