Atop Montagne Noire, he watched,
The Usurper to the Emperor's Throne.
The holder of the capital world,
The center of our culture,
The place where we were born.
The great ship fell in the arctic north,
The impact heard from the deserts afar,
The explosion seen from space up high,
The final, freezing resting place
Of our planet's doom.
Our Emperor Joshmaul commands the fleet
Of our once mighty Empire
Into battle against our brothers.
But the Usurper has another target in mind,
The "source of our people's problems".
The great fleet goes to L'nhraei,
Longstreet's hordes continue unimpeded,
Underwood's genius gone forever,
And Reydovan Prime reduced to ashes.
