| As a child, you exhibited a normal of unusual talents, including the ability to Flying Saucer the first day you picked up a yo-yo. So your parents, creeped out by your paranormal abilities, enrolled you in Shamablamaroth Wizard School. Before long, you earned your Xi of Sapphire and could set out to make your fortune. As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Dropseat just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Sorcerer Morgar, who had poisoned the town's earwig population. Against your better judgment (and with the hope of fat loot to come), you agreed to try and bring the villain to justice. At first it was a real breeze, until you had to fend off half a dozen jerks with your head trapped in a beartrap. Fortunately, most of them ran away when the weretiger showed up, and you played dead until it left. That's not very heroic, but hey, it worked. But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Frost Warlock Grimtooth held court over his horde of serpent-tongued kobolds, and with uncountable swings of your brass knuckles (and a few well-placed attacks of opportunity), you finally slew the horrible douchenugget and rode back to town to claim your glory (and reward).
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