There was nothing remarkable about the young man’s childhood. He was raised by his single mother in a small village far on the outskirts of the mainland, and spent most of his days wandering local villages, getting to know the elders and their ways.
But curiosity got to him one day and, on a lark, he stowed away on a caravan passing through town. It was a long and exhausting trip, but exhilarating and all he could think of was what awaited him at his unknown destination.
When the caravan came to a final stop, the young man emerged, stunned to find dozens, maybe hundreds, of merchants and shoppers, in what appeared to be the most spectacular bazaar he had ever seen. Thousands of wondrous wares and shiny objects were being handled and exchanged, it was unlike anything he had ever seen.
One man in particular caught Wanderlust’s attention. He was strange looking, with oddly slanted eyes and a thin long ponytail that went to his waist. The old man clutched a small wooden box and looked around to assure no one was watching, as he hid his treasure behind a counter and then ambled along.
Wanderlust could not contain his curiosity and he stealthily made his way over to the box, purloined it under his vest and ran, and ran, and ran. When at last he returned home, he took the box into his corner of his tent and slowly opened it. Inside were a few dozen of the strangest looking candles he had ever seen. They were small silver cylinders with a short green wick protruding from the sides, and bearing the strange markings “M-80”. Wondering what kind of strange light these candles would give off, he conceived of a daring prank that would capture the town’s attention and add to his credibility as a clever young man.
On the next moonless night, he snuck out of his tent late, while the village slept, and made his way to the elegant tent of the village elder himself. Quietly, he snuck in, approached the bed where the village elder’s First wife slept. He carefully pulled back the covers, lifted her tasset, and gingerly inserted one of the candles into her rear end. He then lit the candle and stood back in the corner of the tent, waiting to see her reaction when she realized that her butt was lighting up the room!
The horrendously loud explosion and white light shocked the young man, and instead of finding the room well lit, he stood drenched with blood and intestinal debris, the foul smell of gunpowder filling his nostrils and the metallic taste of blood on his lips. He ran, and ran, and ran, laughing uproariously as he left, knowing he had crossed a line.
Eventually the village elders learned the truth and Wanderlust was arrested and tried for Hooliganism. He was found guilty and sentenced to permanent exile to the Island of Siptah where he now wanders eternally, armed only with his wits and a few dozen M-80’s, seeking the next gut shower. His adventures continue.