[ WP ] You are a dragon guarding a cavern filled with treasure . You pride yourself on defending your hoard from the greatest warriors in the world . It makes you all the more annoyed then when the knights that have been coming to slay you seem to be getting more and more inept .

I remember when this was fun. When triumph filled me with pride, a battle hard fought -- now it fills me with little more than self loathing and pity for the fools. Gavarenth the Mighty, they called me. And the Tyrant, and the Nightmare, and the Dire, and countless others titles. They all kind of ran together after the years, if I was to be honest. For 300 hundred years I guarded my hoard, one of the few of my people still holding to the old ways. Other dragons fell in time, Jeventh trapped under a rockslide, Feranth felled by Clerenbald the bold, and Cithyth? After her clutch of eggs were destroyed by people from the nearby villages, she flew there, racked with grief. She barely defended herself as they skewered her with their meager pitchforks. 
 
 I held fast to my hoard, killing any knights who would try to claim the riches I had amassed. They tried in vain, as I add their meager valuable to the pile. I looked fondly on the sword and shield of the first knight I ever fought, Lambelin the Terrible. A brute of a man, a true monster, he came the closest to killing me out of any of them. None of the others compared to him, they seemed to be getting more and more feeble as time went on. 
 
 I was padding my way around the hoard when I heard the telltale sound of the clopping of hooves. The last knight seemed to convinced that his squire clopping odd fruits together meant he had a horse. Python, I think he claimed to be from. But this time around, it seemed to be an actual horse, this time. I sighed and walked to the mouth of the cave. 
 
 The knight before me looked much like an onion of sorts, his sword, if it could even be called that, was needle thin. He brandished it with reckless abandon, shouting all the while as he approached me. 
 
 `` Foul demon, I am Sieg --'' 
 
 He did n't finish the sentence. He tripped over a root or maybe his feet. I stood there for a few moments watching the blood pool into the earth. This really used to have purpose. I'd get him later.
