| At an early age, you were apprenticed to the Great Wizard Colin, but you grew tired of having to clean the floors and sweep the alchemical equipment day in and day out. So, you stole a spellbook and took off to become a Wizard on your own. At the tiny tavern on the outskirts of the Village of Klatch, you were trapped in a conversation with a man who had clearly had more than his fill of barley pop. He told you about the great plague of tigers that had beset the entire region of Routh, and of the rumor that the evil Witchlord Morgar was the source of the unpleasantness. You resolved to find the villain and dispatch him, mostly to get the drunk guy to shut up. You were rocking the house but you soon were confounded by a fiendish escort-the-fragile-toddler puzzle, and by the time you figured out to solve it, you were angry as an underfed Siamese fighting fish. But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Demon Witchlord Unpleasantor held court over his horde of homely badgers, and with uncountable swings of your Greyhawk Army knife (and a few well-placed attacks of opportunity), you finally slew the horrible slack-jawed yokel and rode back to town to claim your glory (and reward).
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