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The arena is thrumming, all days of the year,
With commoners encouraging friends they hold dear.
While scoundrels are heckling as the harpy draws near,
but the nobles keep chanting your name loud and clear.

Beware of the Naga with new venomous fangs,
And honor the victors when victory clangs,
For they now return your thrown gear with disdain.

Then visit the fortune-teller's domain,
And lend her your ear as secrets unfold,
For she whispers of futures both daring and bold.

Young man, she points, thou art no myth!
The impossible journey for one so small,
to climb to the top of the gladiator's halls,
Rising with fame, the difficulty less swift

Is it hard? Is it fair? No, it was never to be,
Fall down on the floor, curl, and beg up to me.
But a boon to my gladiators, I give this to thee
Sudden damage or defense you'll less often see.

*Nymeria*