Twas the night before Omnissiahmas

[Neane]

‘Twas the night before Omnissiahmas, and all through the hive,
Not a creature was stirring, though some were still alive
Post-holiday-purge; as we tried to forget
That Uncle Jimmy had been burned as a heretic.

And the children all huddled asleep on the floor,
As visions of Carnodons stole through their torpor.
And I with my pistol at rest in my lap,
Had just settled down for an amasec-induced nap—

When out in the street there arose such a riot
That I assumed we were in for another gang fight.
Away from my window—I will not lie—I fled,
Hoping to avoid any further bloodshed.

The neon signs that flashed on the street’s cement
Cast a shadow on my shutters that seemed warp-sent.
And when I peeked through my curtains, an ominous glance I stole,
Of a tall Techpriest, followed by eight tiny servo-skulls.

This stark red figure was so alarmingly iconic,
I knew that it must be St. Mecha-Nick.
More rapid than an Aquila his servants did come,
As he whistled and crackled in Techna-Lingua.

‘Now Alatus, now Velox, now Spatha, and Perinetus,
On Remidium, on Midath, on Lathe and Lucius!
Go through the window and unlock the door;
You act as if we’ve never done this before!’

As mutants before a Redemptionist purge fly,
When they meet with a flamethrower, deeper into the hive,
So in through our window the servo-skulls flew,
To open a portal for their Master to come through.

And then in a twinkling I heard from the door,
A slide and a clunk as our locks hit the floor.
As I drew my pistol and was turning around,
Through the door came St. Mecha-Nick with a bound.

He was dressed all in red covering head and potential coil,
And his robes were quite stained with sacred machine oil;
I shuddered to behold the bag flung over his back,
But still could not help but wonder what he held in that sack.

His eyes—how they glowed! His respirator so clean!
His cheeks made of metal, all highlighted in green
From the ocular lenses placed high on his face,
His natural vision at night probably meant to replace.

He was gaunt and emaciated—a right terrifying sight,
And I couldn’t help when I saw him but to scream in pure fright;
A word to a skull and a tilt of his head,
Soon more than affirmed my feelings of dread.
He spoke not a word, did not seem to rush,
Collected genetic samples from the family, took our names for census.

Then he gathered his servo-skulls and stepped to the door,
Tossed a package from the sack right onto the floor,
And shuffled away into the growing night,
As I tried my best to get over the fright.

His presence had caused until a moment ago.
I had to wonder what was in the package, though.
As I opened it up, my hands trembling so quick—
I was afraid for a moment I’d developed a tic—

My eyes lit up—what a sight to behold!
St. Mecha-Nick had left me a brand new pistol!
And through the gloom I heard, though he was far out of sight,
AN OUTSTANDING OMNISSIAHMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

[mechana2015]

...
Heresy.

*Calls the Sisters.*