| An ancient prophecy foretold of a child born in the city of Schmalbion with a soccer ball-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. At the tiny tavern on the outskirts of the Village of Rusty Nail, you were trapped in a conversation with a man who had clearly had more than his fill of mead. He told you about the great plague of puppies that had beset the entire region of Brazzleton, and of the rumor that the evil Sorcerer Vampirewinder was the source of the unpleasantness. You resolved to find the villain and dispatch him, mostly to get the drunk guy to shut up. There was no drama in the LBC at first, but you didn't expect to have to bareknuckle-fight all those accountants. That mind flayer picked the total worst time to eat your club. Bruised but unbroken, you readied your knife and marched forth into the darkness, where you were immediately captured by the Frost Warlock Screamingskull's army of sexy gangsters. They hauled you before their master, but got bored and wandered off during his long gloating speech. Seeing your chance, you pushed the evil butthole into his own sphere of annihilation, and escaped to claim your reward from the grateful people of Flansburgh.
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