In the dim past
when our dragons claws
Were small to the task.

There lived a Roman or at least his last heir
Residing in the south of the Teutonic lands
With slaves and mistresses for his care.

This Roman was known as the fighter most small
he only stood maybe to a Vikings chest
Just so, so tall.

Lupus fought both man and beast
Attending and enjoying every practice, tourney and feast

Into the hall he and his favorite slave would stroll
all eyes were upon the slave
As she was beautiful, just so.

At a practice attended by many
Lupus strove to fight and compete with any

He was berift of armor, weapons and shield
Thus to anothers charity he must did yeild

Moondragon of the Isles lent him for his needs
but alas the armor was too large,
Some hanging below Mad Lupus' knees.

The protection was thin tis true
in fact it was made
To pad mechanical writers from bumps that slew

Another problem was not known that day
mad Lupus had a spleen
Which was damaged before the fray

Lupus he fought well and clean
But the armor did not protect
From the rupture to his spleen.

The nub of this tale is true,
ask Karl Haraldson
for he witnessed this gives his due

As for Mad Lupus
Principality Company of Sojourners he became
Non knows his where abouts but acknowledge his fame

But here in the dragons fold
It is he and his spleen of which tales are told.

So remember poor fighter, young and naieve
Only borrow armor which fits and to your body does cleave.