| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Claremont with a pocketknife-shaped birthmark, who would grow up to be the greatest Wizard ever known. You have a birthmark like that, but at first you were only a sort of okay Wizard. Everyone has to start somewhere, I guess. As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Pitlick just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Sorcerer Diablolo, who had poisoned the town's mongoose 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 doing really well up until the part where you found yourself trapped between a sphere of annihilation and a iron maiden, with a mimic bearing down upon you. That strawberry was pretty delicious, but it's didn't really make up for the damage to your thigh. But, unwilling to let that keep you from glory, you gritted your teeth and wielded your crossbow, and cut your way through the hordes of jocks that stood between you and your goal. At last you found the lair of Dragon Troll Hasslehoff, who quite unexpectedly turned out to be your long-lost half-brother, but you killed the butthole anyway. And thus was the land freed from tyranny, and you earned yourself a fat reward!
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