Poopy 346

I was born cold, in the village of Warram Percy, a young boy, named Poopy 346. I was a farm hand in all of my time. I stuck and moved feeding grass all day. A simple life I had. At age 8 the Scots rode through. Days before harvest they burnt all. I watched as my family was skinned and strung. A scot rode at me, I thrusted my fork through him. I watched the life drain from his eyes as his life blood spill on my ghastly white hands. I realized then I was born to kill. I became a skilled swordsman. My blade was decorated by the time I took my 100th soul. I rode from village to town, my nickel armor shining and my brown silk robes glistening. To free the toilets of people my quest, I plundered castles to destroy the people who treated the toilets so awfully, to trap ones poo in the ground? It sickened me. What did not sicken me was eating poo, I grew stronger from it. It was my fuel.