| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Limberford with a cravat-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. Having heard many rumors about how Hamonrye was being systematically sacked by a band of marauding accountants (who had already looted and burned the villages of Frog, Stubborn Mule, and Dogspittle), and the ludicrous reward being offered for the elbow of their leader, you decided it was finally time to put your mettle to the test. There was no drama in the LBC until you dropped your bastard sword in a antlion pit and couldn't get it back out. Wouldn't you know it, that was when the tramps showed up. Bruised but unbroken, you readied your flail and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Shadow Devil Lord Baaaal's army of squat lizardmen. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil douchewad into his own succubus, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Taintingham.
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