text: That's the spirit!
  
  Emissaries arrive at the capital from the neighboring kingdom of Irelandshire pleading for assistance with a dragon problem. It seems the fiend has been soaring around the country, torching towns, devouring livestock, looting treasuries and snatching young ladies from their bedchambers. Naturally, you don your shining armor and volunteer to help rid them of the menace once and for all. Princess Anne kisses you goodbye as you ride off to hunt down the winged beast.
  
  Finding the dragon's lair – a cave high up a tall mountain with half the forest burnt to ashes – proves easier than you anticipated. No one ever said dragons were discreet. The march up the mountain presents more of a challenge. Far too steep for your steed, you hike up on foot. You soon learn hiking in full plate armor is not easy. Every step requires sheer willpower and brute strength. Sweat pores off you so fast you fear you are going to rust, so you strip down to your leathers and continue to the top light as feather, just like the old days when you first practiced with Jon in the yard.
  
  "Well at least you aren't a knight in shining armor," says the dragon as you enter his cave. The behemoth is resting on a hoard of gold, jewels, swords, cups, and other valuable crap because of course he is.
  
  "Pardon me?"
  
  "Do you have any idea how annoying it is fighting knights in shining armor? I just fry them with a nice blast of fire. They're too heavy and clunky to dodge. No challenge at all. You should see the nice collection of armor I have though. I could outfit an entire empire."
  
  "Actually, I stripped my armor coming up. I got sweaty."
  
  The dragon sighs. "Well you're smarter than most at least."
  
  "Your days are done dragon!" You prepare to make a heroic speech, but cut it off. "Wait, where are the noble ladies?"
  
  "Didn't you see all the dung piles on the mountainside?"
  
  "You ate them!?"
  
  "What did you think I do with them? Keep them as company?"
  
  "You bastard!"
  
  You draw your sword. Fate has finally arrived. Are you up to the task?
  
  > Neither.
  Attacking him head on would be suicide. Sure, it would be nice to blind him or cut into his underbelly, but he would just fry you with a blast of fire before you even got close. There is only one course of action to take in times like this: dodge.
  
  Like a timid bear you perform a false charge, pulling up at the last second as a blast of fire scorches the ground in front of you. Without your bulky armor you are able to twist and twirl, spin and swirl, dip and dive, jump and jive and pirouette away from the dragon fire while inching ever closer to the monster. Since when did you get moves like Jagger?
  
  "Die mortal," the dragon shouts, releasing another blast of fire.
  
  You duck behind a conveniently placed boulder just in time to escape. The dragon stalks closer. His massive limbs quake the ground with every step: his tail smashing the wall without purpose. Another blast of fire. The heat coming off the rock is like lava. You fear it is about to melt.
  
  Is this it? Is this the end?
  
  "Foolish mortal. The only way to kill a dragon is with a disorganized band of heroes and a bard, or with a magic sword. And you don't have either. Mwhahaha."
  
  Shit. I'm totally fucked. Why didn't I read that book on dragon clichés Jon bought me last Christmas? Think fast, think fast, think fast. Brain blast! Music! Music soothes the savage beast. Shit, I forgot my fiddle.
  
  The dragon rumbles closer, taking his sweet time. Any more bright ideas, Mr. Hero?
  
  > cry and Beg for Mercy
  "Please, Mr. Dragon spare me!" Tears pour down your cheeks, and you drop to your knees. "I'll do whatever you want. I can be a good servant, or a steward. Everyone can use a good steward."
  
  The dragon laughs so hard the entire mountain shakes. The roof of the cave above his head collapses, crushing his head. Ever the opportunist, you leap to your feet and plunge your sword down his gullet. The dragon's jaws snap shut before you can remove your arm. Steam spouts from his nostrils, burning your face. You see the dragon's body burst into flames as you blackout from the pain.
  
  You awake sometime later in unfamiliar surroundings. A nice plush pillow is beneath your head, and half your head is wrapped in bandages. Your balls itch, but when you go to scratch them you realize your arm is gone.
  
  "Where the fuck am I?"
  
  A comely wench caresses your hand. "My good knight, you killed the dragon! We heard the battle from down in the valley, and some of the braver folk went to investigate. They found you gravely wounded, so they brought you to me and I nursed you back to health."
  
  "Are you a herb woman?"
  
  "No."
  
  "What are you?"
  
  "A milkmaid."
  
  "Why did they bring me to you?"
  
  "Milk gives you strong bones?" She shrugs. "But don't worry, I did a good job taking care of you. I watched over you day and night, and I only touched your private bits a few times."
  
  "Well that's nice of you, but... WHAT?"
  
  "To clean them, Sir."
  
  "Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought... never-mind. Thank you."
  
  The milkmaid wench smirks coyly. "With my tongue."
  
  Goddamn it.
  
  Well, there you go, Mr. Hero. You killed the dragon. Not exactly the most heroic showing, but it got the job done. I imagine you expect to go back to your princess bride now, am I right? Princess Anne must be dying to see you. Boy, do I have bad news for you.
  
  Princesses' do not marry hideously scarred men, and your face, well go look in a mirror. You look like someone slammed your head into a flaming brazier. Hey, don't get too upset. You are still a knight, and you have the eternal gratitude of the kingdom of Irelandshire. Plus, you got a ton of booty from that dragon's lair.
  
  Time passes and you heal, more or less. You have the pick of any non-princess in two kingdoms, but you decide to settle down with the milkmaid wench, whose name turns out to be Marie. The two of you have several healthy children together with heroic aspirations of their own. You still keep in touch with your old pals Jon, Samwellington, and The Rabid Fox. You have a few castles built in both kingdoms and become a legendary hero. Of course, when you tell the story, you leave out the crying and begging for mercy part.
  
  Your life with Marie is hot and steamy. You are not sure if you will ever get used to all of her kinks – you find yourself in some interesting scenarios when you wake up from time to time – but at the same time they kind of turn you on.