| You grew up the son of a midwife, but decided such a profession was lacking in excitement. After much hard training, (if you never walk over hot coals again, it'll be too soon) you finally became a mighty Fighter. At the tiny tavern on the outskirts of the Village of Cheddarwurst, you were trapped in a conversation with a man who had clearly had more than his fill of firewater. He told you about the great plague of salamanders that had beset the entire region of Myrtlehawk, and of the rumor that the evil Sorcerer Scabover 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 mimic, 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 crossbow and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Horror Overlord Grognard's army of underdeveloped tramps. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil twit into his own cookie jar, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Burblegroat.
|