Pandemic Horde is Riding

Pandemic Horde is Riding by Jita FM Wind of Outer Passage, cold as the void, Stars flicker like camp‑fires on the steppe. From Vale’s rough cradle we rode out bold, Gobbins the Warlord forged us in gold; Beans became riders, frigates our steeds, Eight‑armed standard unfurled to the reeds. Horde‑best‑Horde! Tentacles spread wide! Newbeans rise! Fly, never hide! Drone‑lands whisper ore‑rich songs, Pankrab shields our rookies’ throngs; Drakes like grey reindeer charge the line, Salvagers hum in industrial rhyme. Reach! Reach! Clutch the distant sun! Each little Bean. Forged into one! Iron…