| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Glameroth with a backpack-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 Stubborn Mule (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 haberdashery. A sultry female voice introduced herself as Golden Death stein. She asked you to undertake a quest to recover the Lord of Limberford's lost budgie, Smokey. Reasoning it was the best quest you'd get until you leveled up a bit, you agreed to help. Everything was hunky-dory until you had to actually go in the dungeon. That was when you fell in a lava pool, got attacked by dire dwarves, and got your ear bitten off by a weretiger. 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 bard in some crummy backwater like Cheddarwurst or Cheddarwurst. So you pressed onward until you discovered the lair of the Grim Sorcerer Hasslehoff, 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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