Randolph, Chronicler of the Mostly Secret Society of Shadowy Historians was assigned to write the heroic exploits of Loathing's newest champion. Alright, clearing out the tavern basement could be done by any idiot who could swing a sword or fling some béarnaise around, but single-handedly stopping (and starting, but Randolph thought he should probably leave that bit out of the chronicles) the Hippy-Frat War? Defeating the Naughty Sorceress herself? These were worthy feats for any hero. All that King Ralph would say about the vanished hero is that he stepped into the next world muttering something about maybe turtles next time.
Author's Note: This story was originally written for a drabble contest on the Kingdom of Loathing forums. It never got submitted for a variety of reasons, but it's been sitting on my hard drive for over a year, and I thought I should publish it somewhere.