On breach-lit decks where the war-sparks rain, He walks through fire, untouched by pain, Not wrath unchained, but a measured hand, A blade of duty at Dorn’s command. No savage cry, no mindless rage, Just silent death in a void-locked cage, Each step aligned, each strike precise, A calculated end — a soldier’s vice. Rann Fafnir, breaker of the line, Boarding lord in the void’s design, Steel in oath and cold in war, Faith made flesh by Rogal Dorn. Rann Fafnir, through the breach he came, Not for fury, nor for fame, But to end what must be done— Duty burns brighter than any sun. Through shattered hulls and burning air, He leads the strike — precise, aware, No wasted blow, no reckless kill, Just iron law and tempered will. Where traitors stand, he does not roar, He closes ranks and settles score, In boarding fire and corridor flame, Each fallen foe confirms his aim. Not hate that guides the path he treads, But orders carved where others dread— Rann Fafnir, breaker of the line, Boarding lord in the void’s design, Steel in oath and cold in war, Faith made flesh by Rogal Dorn. Rann Fafnir, through the breach he came, Not for fury, nor for fame, But to end what must be done— Duty burns brighter than any sun. No berserker lost to blind attack, No howling beast that won’t turn back, A fortress mind in battle’s flow, He strikes exactly where to go. From Terra’s walls to voidship graves, He shapes the fight, not just enslaves, In discipline his strength is found, Where lesser men would break or drown. Rann Fafnir, hold the breach and stand, Shield and blade at Dorn’s command, In the dark of the Heresy war, He is the edge the Imperium bore. Rann Fafnir, when the void runs red, Count the living, mourn the dead, Not a legend born from lies— But duty seen through mortal eyes.
