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Aye, I got one.
'Twas some time ago when I was banished from my mountainhome. Why is another story, let's just say some o tha nobles of that land weren't terribly good at satifying their womenfolk.
I took up a job as a mercenary to keep beer in my mug, and my very first job was from the church of one of your human gods. I forget which one, he had the lightning bolts and whatnot. Anyway, me an a bunch of other poor bastards get paid our silver and follow this party of adventurers into a crypt, somethin about an evil zombie or somethin killing the peasants.
I just gripped my hammer tight and did as I was told. Took 2 days to reach the crypt or whatever it was.
Anyway, one of these bastards that hired us, the one from the church, tells us cronies to go in before they did. Brave buncha fuckers they were. So we did. Sure enough we're up to our necks in zombies, which is a bad place to be up to in zombies.
The adventurers don't come to help, so eventually it's just me and 3 other people, an ugly lookin grey skinned tall bastard, a halfling, and someone who I had assumed up until this point to be a wizard.
Eventually we hammer and stab our way through the undead enough that the "heroes" decide it's safe to come down, the cleric, the one who hired us, raises his hands in the air and prays to hit god, and wouldn't you know it, light falls down from heaven and destroys the undead.
So, me and the other survivors start taking stock of ourselves and the wounded. Everyone is accounted for, except for the "wizard" I mentioned earlier. We found only his robes, with a pile of ash under them.
Scary part about that is I spent 2 days sharin a tent with him on the way to that foul place.