So, for reasons, which you might know about, (If you're curious, check out the Forge World website,) I wrote a couple of short stories related to Titans. Very short stories. Well, a very short story and a poem.
The Errant's Bane
My brothers, sit, and gather round,
I tell a story of great fame,
A tale old and true, profound,
The legend of the Errant's Bane.
'Twas dark, the dreary moonlit night,
Whence the foul daemons came,
The devestation of land and light,
'Till came the mighty Errant's Bane
They came with all their foul strength,
Clutching, grabbing victory's name,
Crushing kingdom's breadth and length,
'Till came the furious Errant's Bane
The Astra Militarum fought,
Their will breaking despite their strain,
Their struggles seemed to be for naught,
'Till came the righteous Errant's Bane
And when it seemed that all was lost,
Cities broke, men left in pain,
The bloody tithe to great a cost,
Then came our savior, Errant's Bane
IT came with endless rage and ire,
Killing, breaking, raising cain,
Cannons roared with mur'drous fire,
That walking fortress, Errant's Bane
And as IT fought, a holy glow,
Did fill the night, the titan's mane,
IT banished demons to and fro,
Majestic fury, Errant's Bane,
And so, my sons, the fight was won,
Forever may the Emperor reign,
And so we live, our duties done,
Saved by our blessed Errant's Bane
"Sir, the traitors approach," a scout commander said, his light armor almost totally silent, contrasting with the whirring suits of power armor all around them.
Lord Magos Magnarof turned his head barely to the scout and gave the tiniest nod of his head, though his eyes never left the hangar in front of them. The 'Sir' was an honorific, the scout - As a proud member of the Space Marines - was unbeholden to any Mechanicus influence, but Magnarof still appreciated the sign of respect.
"This is fine," Magnarof replied, his tinny voice betraying no emotion, for he had felt no emotion in many centuries. "The doors are almost opened."
It had been a vicious campaign to this recovery, but one of pride and honor for the Imperium - or so Magnarof was told. He had experienced no such emotions, as he hadn't not for the many lifetimes since he joined the Adeptus Mechanicus, only a cold knowledge that they were mere inches away from a crushing defeat.
They had intercepted the warning nigh a year before: Abbadon's forces were mobilizing. Something ancient had been discovered, something that needed to be preserved before it could be stolen by traitors and corrupted.
And so, they had fought. It was a race of blood and fire and death to get to this lost planet, Y'selian, a tiny blot hidden in the depths of the galaxy. It was only by the Emperor's mercy that they had they arrived first, mere hours before the traitor forces. They needed a miracle behind those hangar doors, for they would soon be surrounded by foes who would show no mercy.
Another marine ran up, his heavy armor leaving deep footprints in the dirt. "We've broken the locks," he said. "Waiting to open the hangar on your signal."
Magnarof looked up at the massive hangar doors, paused, and nodded. "Open them," he said. "Let us witness what will be our salvation and reward."
The space marine nodded, speaking into his vox caster. On cue, the hangar doors began to open, creaking slightly as the rusty cogs began to pull the heavy doors apart.
Wind blew into the hangar for the first time in millenia, rustling a banner hanging from old rafters, declaring a name proudly: Virtue's Contempt.
Magnarof looked beneath the banner to see what they had come for, and upon laying eyes on the titan, for the first time in his perfect memory, he felt awe.