Once upon a time, there was a dragon who grew bored of taming rocks, for
it was all he saw fit to do those days. He began to journey far and
wide, shouting taunts to Gods and mortals alike, wreaking havoc where he
could and spamming needlessly where he was ignored. Of course, he was
good-natured at heart, and most, if not all, of Sapience looked upon his
antics with bemused eyes.

Eventually, the pains of age began to grip the dragon. First, they
manifested themselves as all age does, and he began to give unsolicited
advice to all of Sapience. However, this dragon had indeed seen many
conflicts, and his advice was often sage. So once again, another quirk
was added to the list of those possessed by the Tamer of Rocks. One day,
though, this aging dragon passed into the next phase. He began to pine
for the halcyon days of his youth.

Perhaps it was the high credit prices, and the hoards shouting, "When I
was but a novice, credits were 5 gold, and everyone made money from all
of the trades!" Perhaps it was the creeping boredom engulfing the poor
dragon's spirit, for when you've reached the top, where else can you go?
Either way, he began to hunger for blood again. "Remember the good old
days," he ranted, "when I could kill who I wanted, when I wanted?" He
decided to think of ways to bring those days back.

Not satisfied with the simple pleasures of arena events (not even
Rampages!), a few rallied behind the dragon's call. They would reshape
the world to the image of their youth! They thirsted for blood! Mind
you, only a dozen or so came to the call at first, but the dragon
proclaimed (modestly, of course) that the hoards of supporters should
probably calm themselves, lest they spam his great words into
non-existence.

What does this tale seek to do (besides adding to the spam)? Firstly,
much like the dragon, the author does so enjoy the sound of his own
voice. Secondly, it is to show perhaps the inherent ridiculousness of
this situation. Things have become the way they are through the force of
progress. Adventurers in the realm now pursue other goals than
constantly watching their backs and repeating the same tasks yearly.
Perhaps the dragon ought to have spent his time finding some friends to
spar with or something.

-Nican "Clockin-Out" Gothfraidh

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Sarapin, in the year 378 AF.