You are Princess Sara of the western kingdom of Vanilot. You and all your subjects were once beautiful human beings, the most beautiful in all the land. Everything about your kingdom was once absolutely beautiful, from the streets and the farms, to the palace and the lakes and countryside. Then one day, when a stranger came to town, that all changed in a flash!
For you see, the stranger was an evil warlock who traded his mortal soul and his human face for incredible demonic powers! The people of the kingdom laughed and jeered at his disfigured face, which was exactly the excuse he was looking for. With a wave of his hand, he whipped up a terrible storm of violent, blistering magic, a storm that raged throughout the entire kingdom.
The magic storm transformed the very land and its people, turning them from beautiful and intelligent humans, into far more horrible forms. Buildings collapsed, crops twisted and warped, the lakes turned to mud, and the countryside to coarse, rocky dirt and canyons. And lo, the people of the kingdom warped and corrupted into fat pig monsters, their minds filling with belligerence and violence, their faces and bodies taking the form of bipedal swine. Their clothes became tattered rags, swords became wooden clubs, and teeth became tusks. The once well mannered people became uncouth and monstrous in an instant, turning the once beautiful kingdom into a blighted land of corrupted pork.
Not even you, the Princess Sara, was spared from the transformation. You were still the leader of Vanilot, but now you were not quite the beautiful woman you used to be. You had become a seven-foot tall fat pig woman, with only your brilliant blue eyes and the pixie cut remains of your silken blonde hair the only things left from your human self. Your elegant pink ball gown was now a tattered pink tunic that clung to your globular, jiggling body like a second skin, and aside from your royal gold necklace was the only clothing you had left. Clutched in a fat, three-fingered hand was a crude wooden club that was once your royal enchanted scepter, but you could still feel some magic in its grains. Your mind, once home to peaceful and loving thoughts of poetry and diplomacy, now festered with desires to eat more than your fill, fart whenever you wanted, breed as much as possible, and smack adventurers upside the head with your club.
One more thought rang in your rotting brain, a desire for revenge against the warlock who destroyed your kingdom. You’ll fight long and hard to find his dwelling, and make him turn your home back to normal, by force if he can help it.