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With his lasgun spent of power,
But his power sword held high,
Lord Yzhbozheth shouted, “Forward!”.
Though he knew that all must die.
Precious seconds we would buy them,
Precious blood of kin we’d spare,
Fifteen thousand orks against us!
Let them try us if they dare!
And his eyes swept oer his huscarles,
Those eight hundreds that remained,
Fewer with each passing second,
As the plasma missiles rained.
He saw not a man retreating,
Nor a glance but forward set.
He would die with pride among them,
As the gretchins closed their net.
But a net? He grinned so slightly,
No. Orks do not fish for these.
Never for the Household Cavalry,
Of House Kubernetes!
“You have seen your last sun rising!”
Lord Yzhbozheth roared with pride,
“Ere this world shall see another,
Every one of us hath died!
“But our deaths bring more than honor,
For as Gretchins cut us down,
Time is won so that our loved ones
Fly from this accursed ground!
“Our brave fleet still hangs above us,
Loosing death among the stars
And with every missile fired,
Orkish starships bear the scars!
“Scars on engine, con and warp-drive!
No, we shall not win this day,
But the ork fleet grows more crippled
With each vessel that we slay!”
Lord Yzhbozheth grabbed his saddle,
Vaulted on the leapwyrm’s back,
“For your mothers, wives and sisters!”
His electro-stinger cracks.
And his leapwyrm thundered forward,
As if it escaped from Hell,
With a daemon in its saddle,
And around him, greenskins fell.
For a moment those proud warriors
Struck with shock, amazement, awe,
Watched their master thunder forward
Into death’s wide open maw.
Yet a moment lasts a moment
While an epic cannot die,
And an instant had not passed ere
They had followed him to lie
Unremembered and unburied,
Rotting, stinking. ‘neath the sun.
Not a grave or e’en a marker,
Save a rusting helm or gun.
But their glory’s in the heavens,
Where by sacrifice of these,
Flew the damsels, bairns and grand sires
Of the House Kubernetes.
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