Pausing to sample his drink, he looks around the room, seeing tendrils of his magic slowly spreading, through the air, and through the floor, up the walls and across the rafters.

  Though this tavern is old, and there is power in age, It is resisting, though he knew given time, it even the building would fall to his charms, and he knew he had time.

  With his throat wettened, he continues singing his song, putting more effort into the magic hidden within it.

  —----

  Every inch of the oak panelled stall,

  Was covered in swords, standing tall,

  But what grabbed his attention wasn’t metal nor sharp,

  It was a normal surfboard, with a painted harp,

  Being played by an extra long Kangaroos tail,

  As he kicked the arse of a large blue whale,

  The Dove could see that our Hero's desire,

  Rested on the board, whose art was pure fire,

  With a wave of its wing the board floated near,

  As it got close the walls gave a cheer,

  Like a celebrity walking onto a stage,

  Or a Colosseum crowd releasing its rage,

  At the touch of board it disappeared in a flash,

  And reformed around him like a cool holiday Sash,

  The Dove said in its bone grating drawl,

  “It has a lot of power, enough for a brawl,

  Just picture what you want and say its name,

  Then it will change till it is the same”

  The fabric of the Sash felt so smooth,

  Not single snarl, or dented groove,

  As much as he liked it, a weapon it was not,

  So he gave into greed and gave it a shot,

  Asking if he there was a sword,

  He could get along with the board,

  When the word, sword, was leaving his lips,

  The Sash left his shoulders, and his hips,

  Spinning and twirling, it floated and changed,

  In mere seconds Its form had rearranged,

  What was once, a Sash, was now a sword,

  With a nice matching belt cord,

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  The hilt was the Whale, shrunk and resized,

  Its eye a jewelled pommel, that was minimised,

  The Kangaroos tail had become the blade,

  Sharper and longer than any other made,

  The Harp formed the guard as it came apart,

  The wires spun serenely making filigree art,

  The Dove told him, it was time to get going,

  The crowds impatience, was surely growing,

  With a wave of their wings, he was pushed back,

  And the door closed, with a mighty great whack,

  Followed by sounds that can’t be described,

  The door ran away like a guard that's been bribed,

  Just him and his sword in a strange room,

  He decided to inflict some sharp doom,

  Upon an imaginary foe of great size,

  By stabbing it straight between its eyes,

  With every fast stab and wide swing,

  One of the harp strings, played a ping,

  He had to get back because this was all weird,

  Like who were those people that earlier had cheered?

  He picked the next door, not waiting to be invited,

  Not caring if there was someone he’d just spited,

  He rushed without pause and stepped straight through,

  Without taking time to check what's new.

  He entered an Arena, half a mile long,

  The noise crowd made, was quite strong,

  Around the Arenas edge, there were many grates,

  Each one had, an oversized crates,

  And then a voice shouted, across the stands,

  A new challenger approaches, lets give him our hands,

  Clapping and shouting grew ever louder,

  They were cheering for him, which made him prouder,

  That was until heard the someone cry,

  “We’re here to watch him quiver and die”

  And with that one of the gates started to rise,

  What was behind it is surely a surprise.