Summer, 2007. Our meaty bodies emerged from the haggard womb of a half-burned crow, who was fleeing from a dwarvish attack of proportions so great they cannot be accurately reproduced in words. Having been birthed into a thicket of fairies, we were carried into the woods. There we were raised in the elven glade of Witherfelmore, which is a province of Iowa. Many blue-skinned nights of harp- plucking followed. After several nights of training, we traveled the land as two country bards, strumming away on our collection of orchestral instruments, which were stolen from Leonard Bernstein while he was boozed up in his golden bathtub, soaking in a pool of butter. (He is a foul man, but that's an entirely different story.) We traveled the inns of the midwest after our flight from the nether-lands (not the neiderland). We had no money, and needed to eat, so we hired a young bard named Badfrode, and his friend Blackle, who brought their musical talents to bear on our ambitions. We played, made money, got famous, and wenched, but our lives were unfulfilled. Our ways parted when Badfrode and Blackle turned to the west to pursue the tyrant gobblehoblins who terrorized the city of Euniclease. Next, we joined forced with Knight Erik of Northrupsquire, and to this day we and he sell our precious wares. Now, we are on our own again, plotting plots for years to come and battling the undead toad wardens who have arisen from the great floods of Piltribsquire. If you like D&D, J.R.R. Tolkien, World of Warcraft, or if you simply have no social life outside of books and the Internet, you should definitely listen to this.