The Princess
It is dark in this dank cavern, and my wrists are so sore. I feel like I have been here for a thousand years, bound wrist and ankle and breathed upon by the yuckiest of dragons. Such a slime-breath . . But now, finally, I am freed. By you, gallant adventurer! Dragon-breath lays dead, his scales pierced by your magical shimmery sword. In the light of the torches which hang upon the wall I view you kneeling there, spent, your shield blackened but not beaten, your breath coming back into your...