text: "Assemble the warriors." You say. "Get me a group of sixty warriors who are hungry for blood."
  
  
  You have the group assembled, and quickly begin making your way up the mountain. About halfway up, you begin to regret it.
  
  
  "It's cold, my feet hurt and I'm fucking tired." You grunt as you trudge up the mountain.
  
  
  "Damn right, Mazkil." Urug Eaglebow says.
  
  
  You look further up the mountain, and hear the howls and rasps of the dead as well as the roars and screeches of the dragon. There's few dragons up here, so you presume this Red Dragon fighting is Mont Pre'Igni Rubrum, a near unpronounceable name, or the Volcano of Gargarum. The Undead are no doubt deserters from the Necromancer's Army. You reach the top of mountain, at the edge of a crater. At the center, a large group of two dozen undead soldiers armed with spears and swords are attempting to kill the dragon. It seems the undead are very unmatched. 
  > You attack the Undead
  "Send the dead back to their graves!" You roar, charging into battle. 
  
  
  You swing your blade, beheading a rotting head and sending it through the air. You stab another through the heart, killing him instantly. You headbutt another, with such strength that the spine breaks and the zombie collapses on the ground. The undead are so unmatched that they're wiped out within seconds. You turn, to the snarling face of a dragon. It's voice, a low growl, shakes your very core.
  
  
  "Orcs... Why have you come to my home?"
  
  
  "I... I came to help." You say nervously. "I wanted to make sure this fight doesn't move into my territory."
  
  
  "A wise move, mortal. Your assistance was unnecessary, but polite. Please, let me give you a gift."
  
  
  The Dragon turns and stomps away into a cave. A few minutes later, it comes back. It opens its mouth, letting golden coins and gems fall out. Not a massive amount, but enough to fund the building of a new well and to get new bows for the hunters.
  
  
  "Thank you, mighty dragon." You say.
  
  
  "Of course."
  
  
  You bow, and begin trudging down the mountain. 
  > One Month Later...
  You walk up a mountain, trudging through the harsh snow. You're cold despite being wrapped in furs and leathers, and you really need to piss, but you know that if you tried, your dick would freeze off. You lost three farmers and a dozen goats to a Frost Troll wandering down from the mountain in the cold, icy winter that's just started. You're taking a five war parties of twenty warriors each to wipe out any trolls up in the mountains. You lead the main war party of the best warriors who wish to target the cave system most likely to hold sheltering trolls. Wind and snow begins to block your view. You know you need to find shelter soon.
  > You hunker down in the cold
  You drop down, putting up whatever tents you have. You crawl inside, wrapping furs and leathers around you.  You hope the storm clears up soon. Within an hour and a half, the cold is so brutal that you lose all feeling. The snow's bad you have no idea where you're going. After four hours of waiting, you feel a sudden sensation of warmth. You begin unstrapping your armor to cool down. You're hot and tired. A quick nap in the snow would be nice...