*Itrok satnds at the bar, and swears under his breath as a gang of orcs enter the bar*
Orc1: Give us beer, mongrel
Itrok: Not with that attitude.
Orc2: Give beer or you die!
*Itrok watches as they all draw guns*
Orc1: What you think now.
Itrok: I think you've made an error. Insertis, Pulchert, Imperiem!
*Flames bursts from Itrok's hands, burning the Orcs. Unfortunately, the fire begins to spread. When it stopped, Itrok was long gone. He ran to the hills, and only began to walk near to a forest. It is in the most unlikely way that heroes are made, and his sort have the most odd beginnings, but their endings are all the same.*
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