| Lacking the patience to be a Mage and the brawn to be a Fighter, you decided to be the next best thing: a professional chef. Sadly, your recipe for parboiled taco rolls was unappreciated by the plebes in your tiny hometown of Klatch, so you became a professional Thief instead. Having heard many rumors about how Persimmonhawk was being systematically sacked by a band of marauding accountants (who had already looted and burned the villages of Pitlick, Hamlet, and Mudhole), and the ludicrous reward being offered for the knee of their leader, you decided it was finally time to put your mettle to the test. It wasn't a thing at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those bandits. That mind flayer picked the total worst time to eat your flail. Nevertheless, you fought your way through evil overlord's sewer, dispatching orcs left and right, and finally arrived at the throne room of the Terror Lord Scartiger. After a long and dramatic battle, you plunged your bastard sword into his nipple. The entire dungeon unexpectedly began to collapse as soon as the evil assjacket was dead, but you managed to escape with your life, and claimed your reward from the grateful people of Farc'b'n.
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