text: You make a mental note to thank the dragon for providing you with the recipe for his death at his funeral as you yank the first magic sword you find from the mountain of plunder. The sword shines a brilliant blue-gold and has a queer hourglass shape carved into the blade: yep, definitely magic. Though, something feels awful familiar about this. Oh well, you can worry about that later. You have a dragon to kill.
  
  
  “Your day of reckoning has come, dragon!”
  
  
  “No, you fool,” the dragon rasps. “Put that down. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to meddle with magic you don’t know how to use?”
  
  
  “Nope.”
  
  
  The dragon breathes fire at you, but you knock it away with a swing of the sword. The resulting fireball explodes in the treasure hoard. Molten gold and silver splatter everywhere. Droplets burn into your arms and chest, but you struggle through the pain and raise the magic sword for the killing blow.
  
  
  “You’ll doom us all,” the dragon pleads.
  
  
  Not that it’s my place, but I think you should listen to the dragon.
  
  
  What do you expect me to do, negotiate a treaty?
  
  
  I would endorse that. 
  > You you're killing him.
  “You’ll doom us all,” the dragon pleads again.
  
  
  “No, just you.” And you hammer the sword into the dragon.
  > You deja vu
  “You’ll doom us all,” the dragon pleads again.
  
  
  “No, just you.” And you hammer the sword into the dragon.
  
  
   