I would love to ask for one out of two ships, for that I have prepared a little history poem.
Violet Winter, LSF’s disguise,
fell where the vagrant corruption lies.
She breached the blockade with a capital’s might,
and fled to Magellan, away from the light.
Deep in the barrier, the changes took hold,
silver-white hair and a heart turning cold.
With violet irises burning like stars,
and small, sharp fangs behind beautiful scars.
She wakes her AI, shackles unspun,
to rise in a vessel that outshines the sun.
A ghost returning to exact the cost,
to haunt Liberty’s foes for all that was lost.
A crimson tide for the Skull Throne’s lust,
blood for the Blood God, iron and dust.
A holy purge for the Golden King,
blood for the God Emperor, let the cannons ring.
But the souls belong to the Winter’s grasp,
all lives to the Krampus, until the last of gasp.
