| Even though you were a tattooed child, you always wanted to become a Fighter, like your father and his father before him. You got your wish when your hometown of Dropseat was attacked by a horde of Black Hawks. You got your shoulder handed to you, but it cemented your desire to fight. As luck would have it, as you were passing through the land of Phleberron, you stopped at the inn in the quiet hamlet of Cold Crick, and heard the local serf talking about the ancient pyramid that the town had (perhaps ill-advisedly) been built next to, and the fantastic Gold Idol of Frazool that was purported to be hidden there. Without bothering to ask why nobody had managed to recover it already, you set out on your very first quest. Everything was going great but you soon were confounded by a fiendish mine crafting puzzle, and by the time you figured out to solve it, you were infuriated as an underfed dog. But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Death Giant Grimtooth held court over his horde of quarter-witted accountants, and with uncountable swings of your club (and a few well-placed attacks of opportunity), you finally slew the horrible bastard and rode back to town to claim your glory (and reward).
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