A Quiet Sanguinala

't was the night before Sanguinala, and all through the Fortress,

nothing was stirring, not even a wolf.

The chainaxes were hung by the forge with care,

in the hopes that the Sanguinor would soon be there.

The Astartes were nestled all snug in their bunks,

while visions of purging the Xenos danced in their heads.

Snipe in her adamntium, and Wib in his psychic hood,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When out on the perimeter, there arose such flak fire,

I sprang from my cot to see what was the matter.

Away to the sandbags I flew with a flash.

Tore open the ammo box, and threw up the alarm.

The floodlights on the crest of the new fallen snow,

Gave a luster of mid-day to objects above.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a visitor voidship, and 8 tiny helldrakes.

With the little old pilot so lively and quick,

Well, I knew in a moment, it must be Chaos.

More rapid than owls, his coursers they came.

And he whistled and he shouted and he called them by name.

"On Skull-Dasher, on Cursed Dancer, on Vile Prancer and Crab Vixen!

On Dripping Comet, on False Cupid, on Flesh Donner and Carnal Blitzen!

To the top of the battlements, to the top of the wall,

Now kill away, kill away, kill away all!"

As Exodites that before a wild hurricaine fly,

When they meet to an obstacle mount in the sky.

So up to the rooftop the coursers they flew,

With a ship full of cultists and a Chaos Lord too.

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

The prancing, the pawing, of each little claw.

As I drew in my helmet and was turning around,

Down the tower the Chaos Lord came with a bound.

He was dressed in scalps from his head to his foot,

And his armours were all tarnished with blood and bile.

A bundle of spikes he had flung on his back,

And he looked just like an Unclean One op'ning his pack.

His eyes, how they twinkled, his horns how they glinted,

His claws were like thorns, his glowing nose like a bomb.

His gaping wide mouth was drawn up in a grin,

And the beard on his chin was as red as hate.

''"And then we shot him, over and over." ''

Report ends, Guardsman salutes, and on his heel turns. Another Sanguinala night is past, not worth the alarm. All through the Fortress, Astartes turn in their sleep, this one night all at rest. High above, voidships wheel and turn, dancing lights from prow to stern.

Goodnight, O'magudnis, with your theme park cities.

Goodnight, O Captains, with your work now at rest.

Goodnight, Fenrisian Wolves, all piled and warm.

Goodnight, Guardsmen, who keep the watch even on this chilliest night.

Goodnight, Astartes, dreaming of axes that bite and honor to win.

Goodnight, Chapter Lord and Lady, without whom we would have nothing. Sleep well this night.

Goodnight, Dreadnoughts, ancient and mighty. You'll see excitement soon.

Goodnight, everyone. And to all a happy Sanguinala, each and every one.