Dr Kenneth Noisewater was born and raised in a barn, giving him the perfect excuse to never clean up and leave a mess anywhere he ventured throughout his life. He was named after the doctor that delivered him, his first name being “Dr”. This caused some confusion during his childhood, when sick villagers would come to him for medical advice and treatment. Not wanting to disappoint, he offered all manner of untested surgeries, most carried out with a spork, though once this was lost in a particularly large patient he turned to operating with just his thumbs. He eventually had to flee the village, chased very slowly by a mob of former patients, each missing organs of varying significance.
Many would have given up at this point. Dr Kenneth Noisewater certainly did. His simple plan, to run away and hide in a bush until he died of listlessness, was thwarted when he happened to overhear a stranger exclaiming aloud that a peculiar quest needed doing. With this, he found reason to live, and has embarked on a series of such quests in quasi-heroic fashion ever since.
His first encounter with a monster was terrifying. He’d heard that monsters roamed the land, but had thought this to be a joke that he hadn’t understood, and had laughed and nodded sagely whenever anyone had mentioned this so as not to look the fool. As the beast bore down on him, instinct took over, and he closed his eyes and thrust his thumb into the creature’s greater gizzard, his old remedy for childhood squint. To his surprise, the monster let out a yell, and dropped a bundle of HP down its leg. Dr then realised that he could hurt the beast, that he could in fact fight and kill this and many more monsters to follow. However, he resolved not to seek out such battles, as they scared him witless. This lack of wit would persevere for some considerable time after each monster encounter, making his diary look to anyone reading it like it was written by a buffoon. Instead, Dr planned to stick to the right path, knowing that he’d only ever meet monsters if he ventured off of it for some reason.
Dr would soon come to split his life into two periods: before his first beer and since then. The time before his first beer grows ever hazier, with some doubting that there even was such a time, that his mother was actually drunk during labour, and that he’d not looked back since. This would certainly go some way to explaining the unusual choice of name given to the infant Dr, but cannot be verified. The time since has been one magical adventure after another, and any number of tavernkeeps have come to depend on Dr for their livelihoods.
Dr’s first death was exceptionally nervewracking. He’d heard all about dying, and felt that all of his friends had managed to get killed before him. He was very nervous, and didn’t know what was expected of him. He was far to geeky and awkward to ever get killed, he believed. Everyone told him that he would die when he was ready, but he was despondent, thinking that he’d be alive forever. When it eventually happened it was disappointing and over far too quickly. Since then, though, Dr has died on several occasions, and has become more confident and quite proficient at it.
Dr Kenneth Noisewater’s first gold brick was also a disappointment, though in a different sense. Believing it to be made of chocolate, he bit into it, dislocating his jaw for 23 HP. He has since learnt to collect these bricks, though he has yet to find a use for them, and has resolved to stack them in a temple-shaped pile until he thinks of something to do with them.
These chronicles are a bit long. Kindly disregard half of them.