| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Nickelodeon with a can opener-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. In the fiefdom of Ceruleanbury Grove, in the unpleasant-smelling backwater of Phlegm, you found an inn with cheap tequiza and spent the night carousing. There, you heard a tale of the forgotten treasure of the Emerald Caves, lost for ages during the time of the great earth-rending. You decided to seek the treasure yourself, heedless of the literal mountain of skeletons of those who had tried before you. You were doing a great job but you soon were confounded by a fiendish tower constructing puzzle, and by the time you figured out to solve it, you were disappointed as an underfed hissing cockroach. Bruised but unbroken, you readied your sword and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Horror Warlock Badfella's army of serpent-tongued barbarians. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil rat into his own antlion pit, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Sangriabury Grove.
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