An entire life is too long and weary a time, to be worth dying for, a good life isn't. The kings in their castles pining for immortality, the damsels in the village yearning for fair flesh, princes and princesses guarding their charm and queens counting their wrinkles and hiding under jewels, all in the name of an entire life. How long do they think an entire life is... a hundred years... A thousand... Maybe an eternity, evermore ad infinitum. Then there are those who seek their life in courage and glory. The knights on their horsebacks, lances and gilded shields. Most die, some live maimed and others ruined. Very few survive, and they learn. Then there are heroes, covered in the stench of travel, brandishing named blades. They lead good lives, but once in a while, some fool makes the choice of entirety over goodness.
I've seen them all, tasted their flesh and charred their steel. I've even scared the occasional young fool back to their miserable life. I am an Elder Wyrm, and the crushed bones of entire clans litter my mountain. I am older than the continents and the fires under them, and I grow weary. I've lived longer than any of the armored apes that have swung at me. I am no benevolent teacher but even I pity this game. You search your entire lives for more time, more strength, while you squander yours to make the perfect grave. You search for immortality while you burn your youth. The eternity you crave will never satisfy you. You are beings of contradiction. You fear death and live searching for it. Had I not seen your pitiful attempts, I may have even found you amusing.
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