Lacking the patience to be a Mage and the brawn to be a Fighter, you decided to be the next best thing: a professional chef. Sadly, your recipe for deep-fried mutton vindaloo was unappreciated by the plebes in your tiny hometown of Whacking, so you became a professional Thief instead.

Having heard many rumors about how Taintingham was being systematically sacked by a band of marauding kobolds (who had already looted and burned the villages of Spazmotic, Pig-in-a-Poke, and Malph), and the ludicrous reward being offered for the thigh of their leader, you decided it was finally time to put your mettle to the test.

It was pretty easy, until you got attacked by more accountants than you could handle. You were lucky to get out of there with your elbow intact!

Bruised but unbroken, you readied your Greyhawk Army knife and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Vampire Witchlord Unpleasantor's army of bright-eyed dire dwarves. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil butthole into his own cheese-grater, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Routh.

Loot:bardiche of mediocrity
accountant-flavored shoes of cowardly fireballs
masterwork bowl of cantankerous brilliance

Another!