Written by Apothecary Meros – Inspirational artwork by Grootekloet
We advance through the
broken ranks,
Warp-beasts charging,
assaulting the flanks,
Their walls crumble,
Their spires tumble,
The Guard lined up in
trenches,
A fist around a Lasgun
clenches,
They're in my sight,
Dead in a flash, a
thunderous smite.
In the nightime hue,
Encased in midnight blue,
He comes for you,
Devouring the field,
The shattered enemy shall
yield,
Their fates are sealed.
It's long silver talons,
an iron grip,
From flesh your soul it
shall rip,
The devouring and grinding
pain,
Men's lives lost in vein,
The impact of rockets,
from which a howling wind blows,
Infernos burning as it
snows,
Corpses decompose.
It's Tzeench's demand,
That everything goes,
Just as planned.
Pink Horrors emerge,
The loyalists we purge,
Their morale on the verge,
This world we shall
scourge.
We form a barricaded line
of a thousand guns,
Their way of life the
Keeper of Secrets shuns
But they shall be
demolished by a beast of a thousand tonnes,
The armoured fist of a
Thousand Sons.
Trimmed with gold,
Loyalists behold,
"You will die in the cold,
As the prophecy foretold."
The Valhallans reply a
rallying cry,
"A day fighting for the
Emperor is a good day to die!"
"The Emperor protects us,
no dark lord condemns us!"
Their banners soar high as
munitions run dry,
But we will destroy them,
No matter how hard they
try,
Their general roars "It is
the Baneblade!"
Such a fun game these
Valhallan's played,
Rockets sang from the
Titan in a daemonic serenade,
Not even this mighty
blockade could stop Tzeench invade,
The Titan, it marches,
into the fray,
Valhallans scatter in
traumatic disarray,
Its cannon pulses,
artillery screaming,
The daemons in its head
quietly scheming.
An elusive beast of arcane
design,
To the armies of Chaos –
an alluring shrine.
No man would refuse aid
this grand,
As long as the battle
goes,
Just as planned.