| It was hard growing up as a serf's son in the tiny hamlet of Frog, in the land of Wibbleshire. The other children mocked you because of your glasses and asthma, but you would have the last laugh when you grew up to be a mighty Wizard! (Which you did.) As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Cold Crick just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Barbarian Battledouble, who had poisoned the town's gerbil 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 a good job at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those ents. That carrion crawler picked the total worst time to eat your battleaxe. But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Death Sorcerer Krampus held court over his horde of thin accountants, and with uncountable swings of your teddy bear (and a few well-placed attacks of opportunity), you finally slew the horrible moron and rode back to town to claim your glory (and reward).
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