(Not exactly serious neither)
The battlefield is red and hell,
A mess of broken lives and limbs
Dismembered demons growl their hymns
But aching, tired we live to tell.
Amidst the fighting, Light fell back...
The losses vast, the muscles spent
Empty was the Great Cat's tent
So - bugger - no Aslan-style attack!
Opussia trembled to its knees.
The darkness screamed its victory
The Dark King, bored, stood idly
As Silent Guardian killed with ease.
He snorted hotly, wet with blood
And slaughtered Flynn, the hero brave.
Opussian fighters mood was grave
And slumped, defeated, in the mud.
They felt the Guardian's silent goad
But no-one moved to face him then,
When through the lines of panting men
A little figure hotly strode.
Hands on hips, she scanned the throng
And clicked her tongue to see the loss.
Her general air was 'rather cross'
The jeering started 'fore too long.
"What wench is this? She lost her head?"
"A tiny human flea - a joke!"
"She's prob'ly looking for her bloke."
"The frock and corset-maker's dead."
"I'm Ixabella. Thrustpole's wife.
I waitress tables at the Inn
These quiet years I've served your kin.
I've come to save my husband's life."
The laughter took a a while to start,
But once it did, the armies shook.
She stood and watched them with THAT look
Which curls the toes and chills the heart.
"She's pretty, thick but not that strong!"
"She could always cry if all else fails!"
"What yer gonna use - your nails?"
" 'Er name is even spelled all wrong!"
Rolling up her sleeves, she said:
"Listen well, you shit-for-brains:
He's not the only one who trains...
I've dealt with lesser worms in bed."
The Guardian, he raged anew.
He lifted sword and swung aloft.
"The lot of you are vain and soft,"
She added, smiling as he flew.
"I'm done with waiting while you lose.
Want it done right?Send a dame.
And what is more, I'll spell my name
Just the way I f***ing choose."
She pulled her skirts up to the thigh,
And while her leg bewitched the crew
She threw her high stiletto shoe -
He saw it come in time to die.
The Guardian fell - he's down at heel.
Opussians all gave a cheer.
"Attractive, stylish, not too dear.
But most of all, stiletto's steel."
And pulling shoe from out his brow,
She waved the gory shoe aloft.
"His luck was hard, his brain was soft.
So - who wants to stand and face me now?"
They edged away, the fiends of dark,
The Opussmen, chastised, withdrew.
Her eyes they flashed a fierce blue
Imbued with dignity's bright spark.
After, Ixabell The Wise
Is asked 'How did you do it, pray?'
She says "train hard three times a day
And take time to accessorise."
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