| You grew up on the terrible streets of the great Emerald City, where contrary to popular belief, the streets are mainly paved with horse dung. Well, at least in your neighborhood. Small wonder you grew up to be a professional Thief. You headed off into the wild wilderness of Prefectford in search of adventure, and upon your arrival at the great city of Febreezia you heard a town crier shouting about how the a fisherman's squat grandfather had been kidnapped by jocks, and the massive reward for their rescue. Not wanting to get in the way of the plot railroad, you set out on your new quest. You weren't having any problems at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those dire dwarves. That flesh golem picked the total worst time to eat your handaxe. Bruised but unbroken, you readied your 10' pole and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Fire Troll Englebert's army of thin indigent native tribesmen. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil wanker into his own crocodile's mouth, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Flanders.
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