Tuesday, 24 December 2019

'Twas the Night Before Titanguard 2019

'Twas the night before Titanguard, when all through the God-Machine
Not a servitor was stirring, not even a dream;

The small pistons were hung by the consoles with care,
In hopes that the Omnissiah soon would be there;

The Adepts were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of mechadendrites danced in their heads;
And the famulous in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long binharic nap,

When out in the hangar there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the armorglass I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The lumen on the breast of the new-polished floor
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the hangar door,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Abeyant, and eight tiny cyber-deer,
With a little screwdriver, so lively and giving a nod,
I knew in a moment it must be the Machine God.



More rapid than the aquila his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, COG! now, WHEEL! now, PISTON and OIL!
On, WORMGEAR! on RATCHET! on, DRIVER and LOYAL!
To the top of the deck! To the top of the great hall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the false-sky,
So up to the Titan head the coursers they flew,
With the Abeyant full of toys, and the Omnissiah too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the Titan’s roof
The prancing and pawing of each little mech-hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the carapace the Deus Mechanicus came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his mechanical foot,
And his robes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of parts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a Rogue Trader just opening his pack.



His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His metallic cheeks were painted like roses, his nose like a cherry!

The mouth on his mask was drawn up like a bow,
And the false beard of his chin was as white as Ancient Terra’s snow;
The stump of a lho stick grafted tight to his false teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round body,
That didn’t shake when he laughed, which seemed such an oddity.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a binharic cant, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the pistons; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his false nose,
And giving a nod, up the carapace he rose;
He sprang to his Abeyant, to his team gave a command,
And away they all flew like a thunderbolt about to land.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY TITANGUARD TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!



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