| Inspired by the great deeds of your mother, Crimson Blevins, you knew from an early age you wanted to be a Fighter. After a scant 7 years of training, you were finally ready to seek your fortune in the large, indifferent world. 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 sarsaparilla. He told you about the great plague of sheep that had beset the entire region of Taintingham, and of the rumor that the evil King Frazool was the source of the unpleasantness. You resolved to find the villain and dispatch him, mostly to get the drunk guy to shut up. It wasn't a thing but then you wandered into a room totally full of dire dwarves, plus a bulette, which is weird because you would have figured they'd have killed each other. They made a pretty good attempt at killing you, though. But, you put on your brave face, and made your way through the caverns and caves to where the Evil Barbarian Dave held court over his horde of underdeveloped dire dwarves, and with uncountable swings of your shillelagh (and a few well-placed attacks of opportunity), you finally slew the horrible douchebag and rode back to town to claim your glory (and reward).
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