| Inspired by the great deeds of your mother, Grue May, you knew from an early age you wanted to be a Fighter. After a scant 11 years of training, you were finally ready to seek your fortune in the large, indifferent world. As luck would have it, as you were passing through the land of New Brunswick, you stopped at the inn in the quiet hamlet of Spazmotic, and heard the local squire talking about the ancient necropolis that the town had (perhaps ill-advisedly) been built next to, and the fantastic Silver Idol of Morgar 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 at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those bandits. That cockatrice picked the total worst time to eat your battleaxe. Bruised but unbroken, you readied your sack of doorknobs and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Frost Barbarian Bloodyover's army of golden-haired dark elves. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil twat into his own succubus, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Goldthwaitia.
|