>>Be me, humble servant and assistant to the Mighty Magus in the Woods.
>>Born somewhere in the World of Heroes, and raised by the crotchety old Magus.
<<More like Mystical Dirtmonger, since I can smell him from the other side of the forest.
>>I was left on the steps of his hut deep in the forest as a babe, no note or sign of any people.
>>Everybody that visited him as I was growing up would telk me that they felt great potential for power in me, that I was destined for great things.
>>The Mage would always pass me a sly look that I could never decipher.
>>Have read through his tomes many times through, having perfected the rituals and the motions for the casting of mighty spells.
<<Nothing.
>>In my bed I sit awake, having been awake for too long.
<<Lost count at 156 days
>>Now I attempt to cast, for the last time, a damned cantrip that summons flames.
>>Hear the sounds of choking and the Magus' bed creaking I assume he is jerking off to the goats again.
>>Sounds stop.
<<Hope the old goatfucker is dead finally.
>>As I finish the casting, imagine my surprise when I find myself holding a flame in my hand.
>>Whoop and holler all the way to Magus' room.
<<Actually dead, holding a crystal.
<<The crystal glows brighter as I approach it.
>>I touch it.
<<Memories flood into my mind, they must be his.
<<The looks make sense: The goatfucker has been draining me dry of magical power since I came to his doorstep!
Those visitors seeking his wisdom must've known. How could anybody not see it and not tell me?!
<<Sleep will never come again so long as I live.
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