After your quiet hometown of Cheddarwurst was attacked by indigent native tribesmen and, despite your young age, you were forced to take up arms to defend it, you decided that the life of a Fighter was the life you were looking for. It would be a long and difficult road, but it sure beat the heck out of being a seamstress like your father wanted.

In the fiefdom of Febreezia, in the unpleasant-smelling backwater of Dumpington, you found an inn with cheap firewater and spent the night carousing. There, you heard a tale of the forgotten treasure of the Diamond River, lost for ages during the time of the great alignment. You decided to seek the treasure yourself, heedless of the literal mountain of skeletons of those who had tried before you.

You weren't having any problems at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those desperados. That hellhound picked the total worst time to eat your halberd.

But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Devil Troll Cramhammer held court over his horde of bright-eyed desperados, and with uncountable swings of your shillelagh (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).

Loot:double-garnet-studded flail of zombie slaying
lordly compass of bandit control
extra-sharp entrenching tool of miraculous telepathy

Another!