There was a great problem looming over the great land of Britannia.  It wasn't the economy.  It wasn't rouges.  It was the hordes of ravenous monsters.  The problem was the smell.  All of Lord British's subjects had never heard of plumbing so they placed all their bodily fluids into the streets, in rivers, or just out in the woods.  Lord British was worried over the matter and issued a decree that said this:
                                               Hear ye!  Hear ye!  Lord British hat offered a reward
                                               of one million gold pieces to the person that doth rid
                                               these lands of the horrible smell placed upon it!
A young lad named Marc E. Dracon heard of this and knew he had to get that gold.  But the poor chap knew not of what to do.  In his moment of confusion, an angelic woman appeared before him.  She wore a long, tattered white robe.  She also wore a white wizard's hat and had a hawk perched upon her shoulder.  "Who...who are you?" said a scared Marc.  "I am the Mistress of the Sky.  I am here to help you." she told him.  "But m'lady, how?" replied Marc.  She said, "Find the man named Ram from the House of Ir Ez.  He has what you seek.  Good luck."  And with that she disappeared.  Marc knew who to look for now, but where, he was not sure.  So he set out on his journey to find the man named Ram.
     He searched far and wide, from the depths of Despise to the swamps of Trinsic, from the desert lair of the Ophidians to the chilly waters of the Southern Sea.  Yet he had no luck at all.  He spent weeks and weeks searching for the man, but to no avail.  By his third month of his search, he found himself outside the one spot he had yet to explore.  He sat outside a dark cave which was the entrance to the hellish dungeon known as Shame.  He had been in this situation six times already with six failures on his list.  He was near the end of his nerves and one more let down could be the straw that breaks the camel's back.  He desended down through the dungeon, fighting past monsters and asking people if they knew a man named Ram in the abyss he was in.  He had no luck from anyone.  Marc hit the third level when he saw an orc running off with a large bag of stolen items.  "What the hell," thought Marc and he went after it.  It ran into the Mage Tower out in the water with Marc closely behind him.  When Marc entered, the orc was gone and at the end of the long table in the tower, was a man sitting in a shiny throne with two knights, one in shiny white armour and the other in dark black armour, standing next to him.  "I have been waiting for you" said the man sitting down.  "Are you Ram of the House of Ir Ez?" asked Marc.  "Yes," he said, "And I know what you seek.  But in order for you to get what you desire, you must defeat my men." 

"Orgebared!  Tihnatmm!  Kill him!!!"  The knights lunged forward, but Marc was ready for the attack.  He blocked Tihnatmm's blow and swung his sword forward, lopping off Orgebared's head, spilling blood all over his white armour.  The corpse fell onto him, knocking the sword out of his hands.  Tihnatmm began swinging madly at Marc, who blocked all of his hits with his shield.  He reached down and picked up Orgebared's mace, swung it forward, and hit Tihnatmm in the head.  His skull caved in from the blow and his brains pushed out the eye slit in his helmet.  He fell over and Marc dropped his weapon and shield onto the ground.  He began walking toward Ram, who stood up out of his chair.  "You have fought well." said Ram.  "Too bad you must die now!"  He rose his arms into the air, and muttered the words "Kal Vas Flam," but suddenly the room began to fill with a white mist.  "What is this?!?  I cannot see!" yelled Ram.  Out of nowhere, a blue blast pierced through the white fog and Marc could only see red.  He fell to his knees, shuddering, not knowing what happened.  Had he been hit?  He felt no pain.  He couldn't see if he had been hit because of the haze.  The mist began to dissipate as fast as it came, and Marc say Ram slumped over with his back to the wall.  He noticed the hole in Ram's chest that was spilling out blood faster than people flocking to the CSSC when eerything was on the Sabre Special.  He realized the blood on him was from Ram.  But who had killed him?  Marc turned around to see the same beautiful woman that told him to find Ram.  She pointed to the seat Ram was sitting in, smiled and then disappeared.  The seat was white with a black hole in the seat.  "I came all the way here for this!?!?!?!  How odd..."  Then like a fireball from a dragon, it hit him.  Marc picked up the chair and he set off for Castle British.
  

People scoffed and mocked Marc as he entered the Throne Room of the magnifcent castle of Lord British.  He walked up to the king and promptly dropped the chair.  "I have your problem solved my liege." said Marc.  A roar of laughter filled the chamber.  Lord British almost fell out of his chair from the laughter.  After regaining his composure, the king said in a very haughty voice, "Well young lad.  Enlighten us on how this chair will help solve our problem.  It isn't even finished!  It has a hole in the middle!"  The chamber filled with laughter again.  Marc simply grinned and said, "Well my lord..."  By the end of his explantion the room was silent and Lord British stared wide-eyed and his jaw lowered.  "It's...it's...BRILLIANT!!  What do you call it?" he said.  "Well," Marc replied, "I call it The Porcelain Throne."  And so Marc got the one million gold, and put a patent on his throne, and made a fortune from it.  And Marc E. Dracon created the primitive form of what we call today, plumbing.