| Inspired by the great deeds of your mother, White Page, you knew from an early age you wanted to be a Fighter. After a scant 2 years of training, you were finally ready to seek your fortune in the large, indifferent world. As luck would have it, you found yourself wandering through the sleepy village of Cold Crick just as the village people (you know, the construction worker, the cop, the Indian) were beset by the evil Necromancer Grimtooth, who had poisoned the town's weasel population. Against your better judgment (and with the hope of fat loot to come), you agreed to try and bring the villain to justice. It wasn't a thing but then you wandered into a room totally full of gnolls, plus a ruby slaad, which is weird because you would have figured they'd have killed each other. They made a pretty good attempt at killing you, though. Bruised but unbroken, you readied your pike and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Demon Marquis Grimtooth's army of homely orphans. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil douchewad into his own succubus, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Goldthwaitia.
|