warhammer lol

Something interesting I found-

'Twas the night before 986996.M41, and all through the station
All there was clear, there was no abomination.

My helmet was set on the desk to my right,
On the chance that I was to need it that night.

The guardsmen were ensconced, asleep in their beds,
All the tanks too were safe, secure in the sheds.

Marines in the barracks, some manning the wall,
Assured me that the bastion never would fall.

When out in the yard there arose such discord
I grabbed up my bolter and unsheathed my sword.

Away to the window, I ran to take aim
As the marines around me all did the same.

My bionic eye turned the night into day
Allowed me to see, and to seek out my prey.

When what did my loyal ocular show,
But an ancient conveyance, knee-deep in the snow.

The vehicle was pulled by horned quadrupeds
And a fiery red nimbus glowed from the sled.

The driver was mighty, his eyes full of scorn,
Dressed all in crimson like a servant of Khorne.

I gestured for other to shoot without pause,
For I was now certain this was Santa Claus.

"Fire Marines! Fire Guardsmen! Fire Ogryn and Ratlings!
Fire bolters! Fire lasguns! Fire mortars and gatlings!"

"You in the courtyard and you men on the walls!
Now blast away! Blast away! Blast away all!"

But all through this maelstrom the evil one flew,
Past plasma and bolt shells and frag that we threw!

And then, to my horror, I heard on the roof
The vile cavorting of each decadent hoof.

Screaming my orders, I spun quickly around,
As down the chimney shaft it came with a bound.

I saw its eyes glow, its vast stomach gurgle,
Bloated and fat, like a deamon of Nurgle.

Blinded by anger, I attacked with a scream -
Charged into battle with my brave Space Marines.

As we thundered towards him, closing the rift,
He reached in his satchel and pulled out a gift.

Then it tossed the vile boxes - I fell in a stoop,
As they arced through the air at me and my troops.

The wrapped missiles fell short, and plopped at our feet,
Our morale was strong, we did not retreat.

But the marines paused - our charge was disrupted,
They picked up the gifts and were quickly corrupted.

For each box contained a chaotic present -
The marines (damn their souls), found them quite pleasant.

A bolter, a flamer, a new power fist,
The Claus gave to all, and he checked off a list.

It moved through the station and left in its wake,
The sound of bright laughter and the stench of fruit cake.

The others succumbed, but it failed in its goal,
For to me it gave only a small pile of coal.

The station was lost, I could only instruct
The bastion computer to set self-destruct.

I failed to kill him, for I saw as I fled,
The target escaping, quite safe in his sled.

I heard it cry out as the base burst into light,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
-------------------------------
Once upon a battlefield dreary, where I cowered, spent and blearly,
Within an Imperial bunker, darkly stained with dust and gore -
As I cowered, nearly shuttering, suddenly there came a sputtering
As some weapon quickly stuttering - firing at my bunker door.
"`Tis some bolter", I murmmered, "firing at my bunker door -
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And the brightly burning bastions lit the horizion by the score.
Eagerly, on freedom drunker; - vainly had I sought to hunker
In this heavy Imperial bunker - with perhaps a tunnel in the floor -
A safe and empty fortress with perhaps a tiny tunnel in the floor -
Only this and nothing more.

And the mad raving howling of each distant Space Wolf prowling
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.
So that now, to the beating of my heart, I stood entreating
"`Tis some Space Wolf there repeating, firing at my bunker door -
Some common Grey Hunter rapid-firing at my bunker door -
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer
"Marine," said I, "or Scout, your attention I implore;
The bunker walls are thick - they are made of tempered brick
And your bolters do not nick the slightest scratch or tiny score -
Not a dimple, dent, depression, dip, scratch or tiny score -
Away now, and fire no more."

Then in the bunker slumping, presently I heard a thumping
A pounding - rattling many times fiercer than before.
And soon I began to screech - the bunker wall grenades did breach;
The very gods I did beseech as the ceiling fell upon the floor -
Through the wounds poured light which danced upon the floor -
Danced amidst the sounds of war.

Then at once it stopped the violence - I was left alone with silence
Confused, I spied the reason why the shells did drop no more -
For as I began to shutter, then with many a flit and flutter
a psyber-Raven flew through the clutter to perch above the door -
Perched on the two-headed eagle just above the bunker door -
Perched and sat and nothing more.

At this I grew more craven, for the talons of the psyber-Raven
Were all over covered with bright red blood and crimson gore.
"Wretch!" I cried, "Njal hath lent thee - into this fortress has he sent thee
So that remotely may he here be - and this bunker then explore -
Scry out my exact location and this bunker then explore -"
Quoth the Raven, "Eversor"

Then, methought, the air grew darker, the bunker now a little starker
For the uttered word brought terror as I had never felt before.
As for weapons, I knew I had none - no bolter, sword or lasgun;
No arms to stop the war's son fated to break soon through the door -
The blood-mad crazed assassin fated to break soon through the door-
Quoth the Raven, "Eversor"

"Be that word our sign of parting, machine or bird!" I shrieked, upstarting -
"Get thee back into the fire-fight and here spy on me no more!
For as you came unbidden - I would otherwise be here hidden -
Leave my location in this midden - quit that icon above my door!
Take thy shining metal eye, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Eversor"

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting - still is sitting
On the pallid two-headed eagle just above the bunker door;
His metal eye has all the seeming of a psyker that is scheaming,
To have my guts lie steaming in a pile upon the floor;
And now all hope has left me, crouched here upon the floor
I await the Eversor!
---------------------------------------
'Twas the night before Christmas;

throughout the Old World,

The armies were camped and their banners were furled.

The clamor of battle had finally ceased,

All races observing a Christmastime peace.

Each force in its barracks, each fleet in its haven,

No creature was stirring, not even a Skaven.

The dreams of the elf-lords were distant and deep;

The Orcs lay in rows, snoring "waagghhh" in their sleep.

Your humble narrator had blown out the light,

Set the brushes to rinse and turned in for the night,

And, stealing back blankets usurped by my love,

I was just dozing off...when I heard from above

Such a clatter of hooves! Were we under attack?

Our rooftop assaulted by Arkhan the Black?

I dashed to the parlour in nightshirt and cap

And loaded my crossbow in case of a scrap.

But who should pop out of the fireplace flue

Than old Santa himself! With a bulging sack too!

He shook himself off and went under the tree,

To set out some gifts for my lady and me.

He spun round to face me (which gave me a fright)

And said "You two were last on my list for tonight,

"In your world, that is. But I've work yet to do...

"There are other realms out there that need Christmas, too!"

And he pulled out more gifts, moving faster than light:

"I must get these sent out through the kingdoms tonight!

"A hatchet for Morglum that sings as it hews;

"A reinforced hatrack for Teclis to use;

"A cape for Karl Franz with a griffon-fur trim,

"A mustachio wax kit for Volkmar the Grim,

"A new cloak for Mannfred, all lined in red satin,

"A scabbard for Heinrich with etched words in Latin,

"A chew-toy for Scyla; for Arbaal a book

"(To write down the names of the heroes he's cooked),

"A tankard for Thorgrim, brim-full of good beer....

"And the Witch-King gets coal. For the six thousandth year."

And then, to my shock, he knelt down on the floor

Near a mousehole I just hadn't noticed before

And he squeezed in some boxes, all wrapped with great care;

Then Saint Nick hollered out, "Merry Christmas down there!"

"I'm sending down presents for all of your folk-

"A new knife for Sniktch and some mouthwash for Skrolk,

"A wrench set for Ikit, a mirror for Queek

"And a snuffbox for Thanquol...you're welcome! Neek Neek!"

His labours now done, Santa went on his way.

He rose up the chimney and boarded his sleigh.

He snatched up the reins, oh so jolly and spry,

Then he called to his team, and the reindeer Flew High.

But I heard him exclaim as he clove through the blue

"Merry Christmas To All! (hope games workshop won't sue!)"