Dragons soar and kingdoms soar, In epics of ink and imagination. Where spells are cast, and goblin fell fast, With a bow, staff, or steel. What might you see, where endless stories there be, Forever to be enjoyed in the future?

An island of survival But not one of land Where all animals go Amidst scorched sands

Provider of refreshment to thirsty visitors to the park and yet people still throw some coin down my path

Atop my throne, I command all else. I'm hundred of years old, yet I have never died. My servants are demons, yet they are my idea of pure. People call me a bird, a disgrace to my name. If you want me dead you shall own the entire word's shame.

I'm a one of three choices in a certain game I could cut through one of the opponents but not the other If you send me against myself , you'll have to play again