In the old days dragons hid in the dark recesses of the earth guarding their hoard of ill-gotten treasure. Today they sit on their treasure and gloat in broad daylight. Those of the occupy movement are the peasants with their pitch forks and torches, slightly amusing to the ruling class until the rabble become too much of a nuisance at which point the king’s men are called out to disperse them.
I don’t know where the dragon slayers are. The only one I know is Ralph Nadir and he is getting to old even to tilt at windmills.
The church, as usual seems to have taken residence with the dragon. They drink tea together lamenting days gone by when the rabble seemed to know their place.