Mop and The Bandit King

A battle to protect a village.

Broken, beaten, torn and sullied
Found the child on the battle field.
On her knees, catching her breath amongst the dead
The red of her hair streaked with the red of blood
That showered on to her when all was lost.

She came to the field a hero.
Chosen, loved, respected, feared.
The village was troubled by the Harathe
Those demons of the old world. They summoned
Mop the Guardian- with powers blessed by the Gods

She with her eternal youth and strong spine
Found her advisories and drew them into battle.
Their numbers were great, she was alone.
She threw lightning from her hands
Swung her mighty blade but it was not enough

Bolus the Bandit King stood among his dead men.
His toothy maw snarled at the little girl
She caused him misery, she would pay
Like a Bull he charged her!
His swords pointed like horns.

Her body felt like lead, unable to move
Fear crept up into her throat
She pushed herself to her feet,
Held her hilt tightly in her grasp
And waited.

With a loud thunder clap the two clashed!
Sparks showered down as metal hit metal.
Bolus was powerful, his strength was unmatched.
Mop was clever, her agility would win her the day.
She was too fast to catch.

The Bandit King missed a strike
And lost his head to the girls quick hand.
She put the trophy into her bag
To be placed as a warning to all
Mop the Guardian protected these lands.