| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Brazzleton with a piccolo-shaped birthmark, who would grow up to be the greatest Wizard ever known. You have a birthmark like that, but at first you were only a sort of okay Wizard. Everyone has to start somewhere, I guess. At the tiny tavern on the outskirts of the Village of Flytrap, you were trapped in a conversation with a man who had clearly had more than his fill of barley wine. He told you about the great plague of cats that had beset the entire region of Wibbleshire, and of the rumor that the evil Lord Blackfist was the source of the unpleasantness. You resolved to find the villain and dispatch him, mostly to get the drunk guy to shut up. Everything was going great until you had to fend off half a dozen goblins with your skull trapped in a beartrap. Fortunately, most of them ran away when the horse showed up, and you played dead until it left. That's not very heroic, but hey, it worked. But all that drama couldn't stop you. You'd never given up on anything, not even your childhood quest to comb all the marmoset in your hometown of Madlib. So you kept going, right into the tannery of the evil Wizard Englebert. Fortunately for you, he was out for lunch at the time, so you could grab some loot and get out before you got your ankle handed to you.
|