Arathrax, The Pillar

"You are saved, people of Birksburg!  I have slain the mighty dragon!"  Proclaimed the rugged adventurer, a spindly man in tattered leather armour mostly damaged in the fight.

"Oh, yeah, great.  Thanks a lot for that." Came the sarcastic reply from the local Temple Priest.  He climbed the scales of the great Wurm, to stand beside the adventurer while he posed dramatically.  There's always a bard in the audience, one must look good for the songs.  "Yeah, we reaaaaally needed your help.  Thanks a bunch."

"Oh... you are most welcome, citizen."

"Yeah, great.  So, are you going to stay and help rebuild all these houses the thing smashed in its death throes?" The priest asked, indicating the destroyed buildings surrounding them.

"Uhh... come again?"

"See that?  That was Arthur Millen's house.  Widower, just last month.  Three kids.  And now?  Homeless.  Great work, asshat."

"Ok, but... dragon?"  The adventurer stomps his foot on the dead beast.

"Yeah, about that... is this Arathrax? Because it looks like Arathrax."

"I... think I heard that name... at some point..." The increasingly unsure adventurer replied.  He gazed out into the crowd, seeing not the usual jubiliant faces but a hefty collection of depressed looks, sprinkled with some seething anger.  This was not going as planned.  Perhaps if he stood more heroically?

"Oh, poor Arathrax... You know he ran the no-kill shelter for stray cats right?  Pillar of the community."

"He... what? What?"

"No-kill shelter, you know, for pets and such?  When people decide they can't handle having a cat, they drop it off with Arathrax.  Or when animal control gets a dozen strays, pop, over to Arathrax.  Great guy.  Makes a hell of a cup of coffee.  Well, made.  Until you killed him, idiot."

"But... Dragon?"

"Yeah, exactly.  And it's ignorant racism like that that's been holding this kingdom back for centuries."  The priest hopped down off the corpse of the dragon, and moved to comfort a grieving woman at the forefront of the crowd. "And don't bother going to plunder his horde, by the way."

"Uhh... is it trapped?" The adventurer asked, as he started to back away slowly, slipping on a bloody scale.

"No... It's just cats.  Like I told you, he collected cats."

"But... gold..." The adventurer stammered.

"Great Pelor, the racism just never stops with you."  The priest shook his head, and moved into the crowd.