Genocide 

And with one great heave the great dragonslayer of the north cast the spear into the burnt air, and it seemed to Klax that dark clouds suddenly fell across the pail Spring sun and it became as black as night. The spears course was straight and true, through the wounded dragons neck it went, and a giant flash of lightening ripped the sky in half as if the heavens themselves had been speared. It was followed by a great growl of thunder and rain pelted down harder than anything he had ever felt before. The flashes lit up the jubilant faces of the dark figures, as they raised their weapons in victory. The great dragonslayer stood, heroically with on foot on his kill, but his cheer was drowned out by the howling wind and the sound of the tears of the sky pelting the ground. This ought to be a jubilant moment but he felt a strange sadness prick his heart, he shook it away. Why should this dragon be any different than those before it? Because it's the last! He answered himself. The last of the dragons has been slain and nature herself was mourning.

This is one of my earlier pictures, I was quite pleased with it at the time.