| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Hamonrye with a pair of glasses-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 you wandered the back alleys of Flytrap (and let's face it, most of that place is back alleys), a hand covered your mouth while a blade pushed gently at your ribs. You let yourself be dragged into a pitch-dark abandoned wagon wash. A sultry female voice introduced herself as Cerulean Death mist. She asked you to undertake a quest to recover the blacksmith's lost tarantula, Theodore. Reasoning it was the best quest you'd get until you leveled up a bit, you agreed to help. You were kickin' ass and chewin' bubblegum until you had to fend off half a dozen kobolds with your ear trapped in a beartrap. Fortunately, most of them ran away when the owlbear showed up, and you played dead until it left. That's not very heroic, but hey, it worked. However, you knew you'd never be a mighty adventurer if you let a little setback like that stop you, and damned if you were going to end up a barber in some crummy backwater like Malph or Dogspittle. So you pressed onward until you discovered the lair of the Ice Lawyer Goldthwait, and after a long and dramatic battle you successfully put an end to his evil ways. And then you looted the hell out of his hideout.
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