| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Farc'b'n with a pocketknife-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. As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Bobcat just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Devil Lord Unpleasantor, who had poisoned the town's goldfish population. Against your better judgment (and with the hope of fat loot to come), you agreed to try and bring the villain to justice. You weren't having any problems until you had to fend off half a dozen kobolds with your giblets trapped in a vending machine. Fortunately, most of them ran away when the lich showed up, and you played dead until it left. That's not very heroic, but hey, it worked. But, unwilling to let that keep you from glory, you gritted your teeth and wielded your "Rod of Lordly Might" (if you know what I mean), and cut your way through the hordes of kobolds that stood between you and your goal. At last you found the lair of Terror Necromancer Scabsternum, who quite unexpectedly turned out to be your long-lost cousin, but you killed the buffoon anyway. And thus was the land freed from tyranny, and you earned yourself a fat reward!
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