Chaos Dwarf Songs [WHFB]

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    • Shush! Sneak! Vicious streak!

      Shush!
      Sneak!
      Vicious streak!
      Make not anee zingle creak!

      Shush!
      Stalk!
      Funny walk!
      Crawl up quiet when dey talk!

      Shush!
      Creep!
      Now dey sleep!
      Boyz an' gitz, let's make 'em weep!
      Climb da walls dat look so steep!
      Burzt through window wiv a leap!
      Gut da cattle, cut da sheep!
      Gotcha knife an' starta sweep!
      Frow their corpzes in a heap!
      Hahahahahaha!

      Scurry low,
      an' string da bow!
      Spoil da bread,
      an' chop off head!
      Frow yer knife,
      in someun's wife!
      Kidz who fear,
      stab wiv spear!
      Men da same,
      but first we maim!
      Spill their gutz,
      an' burn their hutz!
      Grabba torch,
      an' starta scorch!

      Let'z do it once again!
      Hahahahahaha!

      - Hobgoblin camp song
    • Blood in da Mud

      Hah!

      Blood in da mud,
      an' gutz in da hutz!
      Won't work an' go nutz,
      zo bunk while ya kan!

      Skull on da hull,
      an' gland in da hand!
      Won't spare da hot brand,
      zo burn while ya kan!

      Fart on da heart,
      an' stung in da lung!
      Won't tell mah knife flung,
      zo stab while ya kan!

      Kill on da hill,
      an' gore on da shore!
      Won't miss any store,
      zo loot while ya kan!

      Leg in da keg,
      an' arm from da farm!
      Won't hear any harm,
      zo maim while ya kan!

      Ahahahahaha!

      - Hobgoblin loot song
    • Foreign Songs About Chaos Dwarfs


      When the ravenous armies of the Chaos Dwarfs conquer, devastate, raid and enslave in distant lands, they leave scars upon the minds of their surviving enemies and victims which may not be visible, yet still lingers long after the Dawi Zharr have departed with their armoured cohorts, mutant beasts and winged monsters, and with their hellish war machines, slave soldiers and shackled fire Daemons. Tales and songs about such encounters are retold and sung from the Old World to Cathay.


      War may be strangely exhilarating to experience, but it is also terrible. Glory is only won amongst the moans of dying enemies, lest the most brilliant stratagems and marvellous feats of engineering would be for nothing. Yet to face the fell hosts of the Chaos Dwarf empire is to come face to face with one's own raw, primal fear.



      Chaos Dwarfs are the ones who trample and enslave Greenskins on a large scale. It is they who routinely quench menacing Warbosses and thus conquers the most barbaric race in the whole world. The Dawi Zharr shy from nothing to dominate and enslave. Not only mortals are found toiling in backbreaking labour for the sake of Zharr-Naggrund's might and production, but even Daemons have been made into fettered thralls.



      Theirs is a dread reputation, and the Chaos Dwarfs do everything in their power to stimulate and uphold it. After all, fear is in itself a potent weapon and deterrent, and the psychological warfare one can find in a Chaos Dwarf army is as sickening as it is deliberately wrought to inspire terror in foe and slave alike.



      Their hosts are adorned with trophies from ritually skinned, mutilated and burnt victims, and the very shapes of the Chaos Dwarfs' helmets and bound Daemons are intended to cow and frighten. Live slaves with cut-off limbs, gouged eyes, opened guts and flayed or scorched skins decorate giblets, war machines and even banners in most Dawi Zharr battle lines. These make a grotesque sight, yet to hear their wails and moans is possibly even worse.



      The musical instruments of the Chaos Dwarfs are often possessed with bound Daemons to further increase psychological impact. Both Iron Daemons and such monsters as Lammasus and Bull Centaurs increase the terrifying impression of Zharr-Naggrund's armies. Dark sorcery, crushing artillery bombardments and cruel deeds all add up to strike fear into the hearts of the Chaos Dwarfs' foes.



      Many of the verses sung about Chaos Dwarfs amongst other races stands as scattered testimonies to the dark dread experienced by enemy warriors and civilians alike. Behind these songs often lurk a grim trauma inflicted upon the minds of those enemies who composed the lines in the first place. These were men and women whose dreams were cast into nightmares by what they saw during war with the Dawi Zharr.



      Although Ogres, uncorrupted Dwarfs and many Greenskins are resistant to such scars of the mind, the same cannot be said for the Skaven or the human multitude who time and time again find themselves confronting the Chaos Dwarfs' armies. Even hardened northmen have been left shaken by the sights, sounds and smells emanating from a Dawi Zharr battleline.



      This is the stark reality behind most of the sagas and verses sung about the mysterious Chaos Dwarfs in foreign lands. Bear in mind the trauma and horror visited upon those who survived to tell the tale.



      These are stanzas of war and slavery, of blood and arsonry, of darkness and madness, and of monstrous cruelty. Above all they are testimonies of a grim dread born out of hell itself, for to face the Blacksmiths of Chaos is to gaze into an abysmal hunger to dominate all and everything, and to break the will of every single living creature.



      These are the songs of the Survivors.
    • Written by: KNC
      Performed by: MadHatter

      An Ode to the Asscannon
      Audio

      What a vile and horrid race
      that with grins on their tusked face
      takes brass that their slaves mined
      and shoves it into a Daemons behind
      load's it with a cannonball
      and regards it the most coveted treasure of all


      - Unknown survivor and poet of the Empire, commenting on Chaos Dwarf warfare
    • Stunty Tusks

      Stunty tusks,
      got scaly husks,
      eat with mask,
      a hardy task,
      the gut-bad fat,
      stuff in their hat,
      home big hill,
      hard to kill.

      Stunty tusks,
      got scaly husks,
      got green slave,
      do not shave,
      a-smithing hard,
      they got odd lard,
      beasts of steel,
      turning wheel.

      Stunty tusks,
      got scaly husks,
      get your pay,
      do as they say,
      follow law,
      or eat them raw,
      big boom guns,
      Gnoblar runs.

      - Ogre nursery rhyme
    • Deeds of Ragnar

      Thirst. Darkness. Hunger. Pain.

      A mind so numb and dull,
      of toil and drudge,
      of bleakest grudge,
      in pit of sludge.

      Woe. Shackles. Terror. Scars.

      A wrath so long oppressed,
      of bitter fate,
      of vilest hate,
      it will not wait.

      Whips. Fury. Struggle. Slay.

      A deed so raw and great,
      of strongest will,
      of love to kill,
      in blackest mill.

      Break. Speech. Muster. Lead.

      A chief so filthy low,
      of host of scum,
      of wretched slum,
      now beat the drum!

      Rise. Carnage. Murder. Glee.

      Thrice Ragnar chose to stand not flee,
      led unknown thralls in lands afar,
      for warrior would nought die but free,
      now raise the mighty Chaos star!

      War. Bloodshed. Omens. Flame.

      Lift your axe and brandish spear,
      forget your maiden's home,
      see Hobgoblins run down in fear,
      their master but a gnome!

      Pride. Valour. Hubris. False.

      Praise Dark Gods and hail,
      build shields of scrap,
      and lethal flail,
      fall into trap!

      March. Cruel. Power. Hell.

      Hear the thralls be torn apart,
      know fell ranks arrayed,
      see bale Daemon iron cart,
      feel your hide be flayed!

      Steel. Horns. Ashen. Might.

      Burn living flesh to cinders,
      and crush man's bravery,
      no god their triumph hinders,
      the lords of slavery.

      Maim. Panic. Torture. Geld.

      A wretch so broken down,
      of eyes cut blind,
      of ravished mind,
      his fate to find.

      Chant. Occult. Secret. Rite.

      A bull so fierce and hard,
      of bronze and smoke,
      of flames and coke,
      to victim stoke.

      Knife. Heinous. Idol. Death.

      A glow so hot and strong,
      of its molten gold,
      of flesh thrown cold,
      into altar old.

      Name. Fame. Saga. Told.

      A man so rash and strong,
      of gods' caprice,
      of whip to cease,
      for only thralls wish peace,
      war for Ragnar,
      listen well,
      and sacrifice these geese.

      - Norscan war poem
    • Written by: KNC
      Illustrated by: Raul Gomes @knightinflames



      Hell on Earth

      I have found out hell on earth,
      hell on earth,
      hell on earth.
      I have found out hell on earth,
      beyond the easterly mounts.

      For here all that is green,
      is a danger and mean,
      with fire to drink,
      and a baleful stink.

      For here all that is green,
      is a danger and mean,
      with ashes to eat,
      and shackled feet.

      For here all that is green,
      is a danger and mean,
      in thrall of those worse,
      by a race like a curse.

      You can enter hell on earth,
      hell on earth,
      hell on earth.
      You can enter hell on earth,
      but you cannot return.

      For here all that is free,
      a wild killing spree,
      order a chain,
      in the acid rain.

      For here all that is free,
      a wild killing spree,
      law but a blade,
      no rest in the shade.

      For here all that is free,
      a wild killing spree,
      under the yoke,
      thrall backs broke.

      You can die in hell on earth,
      hell on earth,
      hell on earth.
      You can die in hell on earth,
      just like all my friends did.

      For here all that is firm,
      will make you squirm,
      no pair of socks,
      and molten rocks.

      For here all that is firm,
      will make you squirm,
      Obsidian and steel,
      will bring you to heel.

      For here all that is firm,
      will make you squirm,
      crawl, run or stand,
      your flesh to brand.

      You wouldn't believe it if you saw,
      if you saw,
      if you saw.
      You wouldn't believe it if you saw,
      for you'd go mad like me.

      - Folk song from the eastern Border Princes

      The post was edited 1 time, last by Karak Norn Clansman ().