Admiral:
Lament for Mingol Zharr-Naggrund the Great
Oooh…
In blackest sorrow we wail and tear our beards.
Hashut!
Oooh…
In deep despair we cry and pull our tusks.
Hashut!
Oooh…
In raw desperation we blind our eyes so that we cannot see.
Hashut!
Oooh…
Lo and behold, for the signs of doom have been seen,
listen and remember, for these dire portents will be true,
confirmed by tortured Daemons twelve, eight, sixty and fourteen,
and to halt tribe’s demise there is nothing we can do.
Hashut!
Waaah!
Cruel fate wrought by Dark Gods did destine us for doom,
yet in olden days He delivered us from ancestors’ final death,
greater powers let this cracking of anvils stand for tribe to bloom,
only to pull us down from pinnacle of might with gasping breath.
Hashut…
Waaah!
Hear raw cries of beasts and brutes born out of war,
see greatest works bred in tribe’s dark ascendancy,
sense scoffing guffaw of the terrible Great Four,
smell rotten promises of our dependency.
Hashut…
Waaah!
What is this grim fate that we cannot escape?
What is this vile doom in which Chaos would us drape?
What is this end of the high Bull God’s divine rape?
What is this death the Dark Gods for us all did shape?
Hashut…
Chaos!
When death incarnate rises from the grave,
when Everchosen unite Dark Gods’ sacred hosts,
when victorious master is overthrown by slave,
when all creation on doomsday’s fires roasts.
The end…
Chaos!
When bale moon die in thousand shards and fall upon our heads,
when the call of Dark Gods is answered by us in strong force,
when fertile consorts and kin lie slain and torn upon our beds,
then know that this marriage of Dark God and tribe was ever a divorce.
The end…
Chaos…
Chaos.
Chaos!
For the potent signs are clear, the high Bull of Fire will at long last fall,
and those mighty turned to stone will walk again to heed His call,
and we Blacksmiths of Chaos will break down mortals’ strongest wall,
and we will arm and armour hosts of Dark Gods like a thrall,
and unholy power will lift us to heavenly Hashut’s flaming hall,
and our blessed dark empire will be at its greatest ever sprawl,
and after ages of toil and war we’ll reap the fruits of our long crawl,
yet those the Dark Gods wish to destroy they will not at first make small,
for we will conquer and be great, only to succumb to defilers’ brawl,
what is this laugh of cruel and dark divinities that echo like a squall?
And we will wail in torment at Temple’s sudden fall,
and its lament we will scrawl.
We will scrawl…
O, we will scrawl…
Hashut!
Hashut!
Hashut!
We thrice beseech thee, mighty one, let not this dark path of future come to be!
We will sacrifice our slaves and worldly possessions in front of thee!
We will give up anything to escape the Dark Gods’ cruel glee!
We will bash our offspring’s hard heads upon the scree!
We will cut our precious limbs to that destiny flee!
We will scorch our hides if thee so decree!
We will maul each precious knee!
We will offer thee this plea!
O, Hashut when on high…
Spare me!
Oooh…
Ancient Blood Grudge, was it settled…?
Woeful civil strife in Temple’s halls…
The vengeful Hide of Iron nettled…
Already hear the beastly calls…
Spare me!
Hashut!
Was our sole purpose to forge and toil and fight?
For untold centuries to build thine worldly might?
For this did we forsake each Ancestor God’s holy rite?
To rise through ashen hardships and vilest, blackest plight?
To praise thine name and to all the foul foes of Chaos smite?
To shed our blood and life to grip the Dark Lands tight?
To embrace darkness and let fire be our only light?
For price of damnation eternal in our souls’ night?
For us to see but thee and then lose our sight?
Was our sole purpose to know the fearful warlord’s brutish bite?
Hashut…
Chaos!
Is this an insane scheme of Tzeentch’s fiendish double-mind?
Or just a feverish nightmare in bloody Khorne’s eternal grind?
Perhaps a heap of lies fallen out of Nurgle’s cursed behind?
Or just a druggened haze in Slaanesh’s pleasures blind?
And what is this fifth Dark God that rise to greatness find?
Horns and cloven hooves, but this vermin did us never bind…
Chaos!
Merciless master, would you these visions have us believe?
Are they our future reality, or but bale Daemons’ false dreams?
Cast in doubt, not iron, may these visions ever see their eve?
Or will creation wail and come apart at its very seams?
Hashut…
O, high Hashut…
Great…
Great indeed…
Great is the fall of Zharr-Naggrund…
- Temple Acolyte dirge