Admiral:
Daughter, kneel.
As my mother told me at ripening age,
so do I now tell you at ripening age.
Tell you about your plight in life,
as mother and ever oath-bound wife.
At Zharr Naggrund the walls climb heights,
and the Dark Lands crawl beneath our sights.
Our slaves are legion, our warriors cruel.
The Gods decree, the Blacksmiths rule.
Our merchant men trade Hashut’s wares,
at Temple lies His greatest shares.
Know, Dawi Zharr’s our people’s name,
by Hashut’s law we play this game.
We live, we worship, toil and die.
And never ask, the answer lie.
Our race’s creations reach out wide,
that Chaos may in glory ride.
The men enslave and work and fight,
and build domain of rawest might.
But power claims expense of blood.
And always must we breathe in mud.
The coal that burned must be replaced,
or else our fate is be displaced.
All womenfolk take men to lift,
and bear their seed as Hashut’s gift.
Our people’s fate lies in our wombs.
To give us heirs to seal our tombs.
Without our effort, be no clan,
nor will wars see our solid man.
So grab your husband, is Hashut’s will,
that we may thrive in battle’s mill.
Lash your offspring, whip your slaves.
Give hardful lives, not softful graves.
Know the duty, serve Him thus,
and Zharr Naggrund be ruled by us.
- What a Chaos Dwarf mother told her daughter