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I'm not sure if this has been on here, but i really cant be stuffed looking for it. I'm already in bed with my laptop ready to go to sleep.

I give no credit to myself. I found this somewhere so i dont know who to give the credit to.

It gets a bit off topic (kind of) near the end.

[quote:ab3dedbea6]A Chaos Space Marine’s Diary

The following text is made up of notes from the diary of a Chaos Space Marine in the Black Legion.

Dreaded Diary,

Day 1, week 1
- Arrived at new camp on planet Ythcolgar.
- Started to feel pain in left arm. No idea why.
- Hung piece of paper on brother Ardius’ backpack reading “Purge me!” and had a good (and sinister) laugh with the rest of the lads.
- Brother Behemon painted the coolest ever winged skull on his shoulderplate today, and was brutally butchered by the guv’ (Estragor, Exalted Champion of Chaos) for being a Night Lords sympathizer.

Day 2, week 1
- Pain in arm growing. Went to Chaos sorcerer, who told me three words: “Extremis Unconfortablis Mutatis.” I’m visiting brother Arzhar tomorrow, to ask about mutation symptoms. (Arzhar has already got an ostrich-leg and a bat’s nose.)
- The Guv’ didn’t like the “purge me” joke, and as punishment I spent three hours writing “You’re dead!” back to front on the front of my squad’s Rhino, in preparation for next week’s big cityfight.
- Attended brother Behemon’s funeral today. The way sergeant Sargoth placed his blooded skull atop that burning mound of bones really stirred some emotions, but we all forgot our sadness and frustration by getting leglessly drunk on boozed-up blood afterwards.

Day 3, week 1
- Awoke with a terrible hangover from last night, and hung on my bed I found a picture of me making out with a daemonette. This, of course, led to quite a few “HOWs”, “WHYs” and “WHENs”
- Arzhar (who by the way has been gifted an additional ostrich leg by his patron) told me to expect a hideous mutation of my left arm. Although I have yet to read about the pros and cons of mutation, I’m hoping for either a whip-like tentacle or a massive crab’s claw!
- Found a scorched skull on the gound and hung it in my belt, but was then given a thorough lesson from sarge about martial honour, and how one shall only display battle-trophies that one-self has won. Frankly I couldn’t care less what he and the Blood God thinks.

Day 4, week 1
- Today we sacked an undefended city on the planet Urnium. Found a convenience store selling cereal-boxes called “Corn-chaos.” (a fitting name, I might add). The guv, however, took the cereal’s title as an insult mocking his patron, Khorne, and burned the shop personally. Fortunately I managed to grab the latest issue of “Universe at War” before the magasine-rack was consumed by the flames.
- Got into a fight with brother Octavius over which of the two destroyed legions landed on Istvaan V first. He claimed it was the (fragment missing), but surely it was the colossal landing crafts of the (fragment missing) legion which first touched the ground?
- Played Death-poker with the lads before going to bed. The only casualty was brother Magnon, who bought it in the fourth round. Won myself a neat little master-crafted beauty of a bolt-pistol, and a bottle of some blue liquid. (Note: The bottle was labeled: “Do not add anything”)

Day 5, week 1
- Today, the guv beheaded brother Raphaelus for having tattooed a certain rune on his forehead. But Raphaelus died with a smile on the face of his severed head, having had great fun tricking the entire company into believing that he had been given the Mark of Khorne.
- Pain in arm growing, the sorcerer told me to expect a mutation any day. I still find it hard to believe that I have particularly pleased one of the powers, except for perhaps amusing Slaanny by symbolically eating that Eldar’s spirit-stone in a battle a few weeks ago. (That stone was hard as rock, by the way, and it really messed up my teeth. And I was hoping for fangs and all!
- Attended “Pint-night” with the rest of the squad. In lack of boozed-up blood, drank the blue liquid I won at the poker-game. The liquid turned out stronger and fiercer than an irritated Bloodthirster, and sent me running to the latrine, screaming like a Horror. Before I reaching it, I had already vomited half my interiours all over the newly-polished Land Raider. (Note: Formed the vomit into looking like an evil face, and the tank commander was impressed when he saw it the next day.)

Day 6, week 1
- Last night I had a long vision of Tzeentch, telling me how mad he was at me. I spent all night running from his minions in the psychic realm. How I earned the wrath of Tzeentchie-boy (that old trickster is beyond me.
- Was told at the mess that the blue liquid I had drunk last night was infact an antidote to Nurgle’s Rot, and was lifted up by a group of Plague-marines and carried across the courtyard, being praised and honoured by the foul men. Never before have I drunk and thereby destroyed the nemesis of an entire squad of marines. (Note: My new nikcname is “Doom-drinker,” apparently.)

Day 7, week 1
- Awoke with left arm fully mutated! A beautiful tentacle-thingy, slimy and gross. Had great fun coiling it around brother Xarnon’s throat and almost strangling him. Went to Arzhar’s tent with a bunch of posessees, and had a “Who’s got the most hideous body-part”-competition. (Brother Igmarius won, sporting a toe with a fly’s head and little legs of it’s own.)
- Got tickets for tomorrow’s Emperor’s Children gig on the planet Harthras IV. (Note: Bus leaves at 4.00)
- Went to Chaos sorcerer in hope of finding out which god has gifted me with the tentacle. After two hours of the sorceror looking at the arm and taking down notes, came the following answer: “It is probably either Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle or Slaanesh.” (No big suprises there)

Day 1, week 2
- Went all day fooling around camp. For fun, pretended to be a nutter and was grouped with the posessed squad. Learned all there is to know about being possessed, and wrote down some of their most memorable lines: “The Emperor wins in the end”, “Does my host have bad breath?,” and “Man, the looks of this host are spoiling my chances of getting laid.”
- In the evening, went to Emperor’s Children concert on Harthras IV. Went backstage and got Eidolon’s autograph, and got my picture taken next to him, holding a blastmaster. After the concert, almost my entire squad talked about joining the Slaaneshi cult. (Note: Group pressure is a bad thing)
- Looking forward to tomorrow’s cityfight, spent the late hours painting terror-markings and contrasting colours on my armour, along with the lads. Only one of them had actually pledged his soul to Slaanny after the concert, and we helped him paint ridiculous colour-patterns and naughty artwork on his armour.

Day 2, week 2
- Had a good old cityfight in Yarnus, the capitol of the planet Kravus. Tried out the bolt-pistol I had won at the poker-game, but killed no-one with it (except brother Elmius by accident. He was probably gonna die anyway, right?). Ended with the bolt-pistol blowing up in my hand and rendering me unable to use a weapon. (Ever tried holding a boltgun with a tentacle?) Despite pain and being “psysically challenged” I managed to impress sarge by strangling two hapless citizens with my tentacle in less than 10 seconds.
- On the way back to base, I got friendly with Khorne-berzerker Arturion, and after he initially tried to chop my head off, we had an interesting coversation about social issues and skull-taking.

Day 3, week 2
- Awoke finding Arturion licking the blood off my wounded hand (which I had forgotten to do something about). Went with Arturion to the tech-marine, who replaced my wounded hand with a robot-one. The sad thing is that if it had been treated right away, I would only have had to replace 96, 7 percent of my hand, and not the whole thing. Arturion put his name up in the list for some more psycho-surgery. I said I like natural rage better, but he wouldn’t listen, and kept claiming it would make give him better self-confidence and make him more attractive.
- For an evening out, I went to the killing-grounds with the rest of my squad, to fight a pack of brutish beastmen. Did many things that Arturion had learnt me, but discovered that I still have to work on my “Double-Decap.” (Note: Must remember to send “I’m sorry”-letter to brother Lurg.)

Day 4, week 2
- Was told that brother Lurg from my squad died last night from wounds sustained at the killing-grounds yesterday. Unfortuately no one noticed how he was wounded. Although Lurg probably did, it was hard for him to explain without his jaw. (Note: Must remember to burn the “I’m Sorry!”-letter)
- Played Death-poker in the evening. Won nothing, and lost half my miniature-collection, including the special character “Rambo.” (We play with the miniatures in a game called “Warhammer 2k”)

- Day 5, week 2
- Sarge found the “I’m Sorry”-letter before I had time to burn it. Suprisingly, he didn’t mind the fact that it was I the one who had inflicted the mortal wounds on Lurg (by accident, of course...) Instead, he said that Khorne apparently favours those who kill their friends and allies, and fetched Lurg’s severed jaw for me to wear as a trophy.
- Was part of a group of marines ordered to test the new Dreadclaws. The pod I was in failed to work, and plumetted to the ground at lightning-speed. The pod crashed in a desert area of the planet, the impact killing everyone in the pod except me. Hours later I was found unconcious by the search-team, with a third-degree burn on my tentacle and without a lower jaw.

Day 6, week 2
- Left the field-hospital/gene-mixing-lab early in the morning, with a bandaged tentacle and a fully functional jaw. Apparently, they hadn’t found my original one, so they took the one hanging on a chain around my neck and put that one on instead.
- Went to Arzhar’s tent to ask how to treat injured mutated limbs. Arzhar, the poor #######, has by now been given a turtle’s shell and pig’s head (although he’s still got the bat’s nose), and was not in the mood to talk about mutations. Instead we discussed career-possibilities in the legion, and advaning to higher ranks. I’ve found out that possible career choices are: To join one of the cults, become a biker or havoc specialist, survive long enough to become a veteran, get possessed, almost die and become a Dreadnought, or become a driver. Tough choice, eh?
- In the evening, I returned to the killing-grounds with my squad, this time pitched against a group of imperial captives. We barely made it out alive, although this time I managed to perfectly execute the Double-Decap.

Day 7, week 2
- The talk with Arzhar yesterday really got me thinking. Walked around the camp, asking the different marines about what career THEY had chosen. So far, the cults seem unlikely (although the plague-marines will of course welcome “Doom Drinker” into their group anytime), and becoming possessed seems to leave few chances of advancing further in the ranks. Besides, having a face growing out of my chest and babbling philosofical nonsence all day isn’t my biggest ambition in life.
- Later, the camp was visited today by a small group of Word Bearers lead by a chaplain, coming to tell us all about why we should join their legion instead. Their endless preaching was cut short when the guv’ intervened, butchering them to a man. The survivor was held down and his armour was taken off. Then the guv’ tatooed the eye of Horus on his forehead, and “Black Legion rocks!" all over his chest. He was then carried into a space-ship, and finally jettisoned into space in a sarcophagus marked “To Lorgar!”

Day 1, week 3
- Had nothing to do half the day, so went with brother Ixius to the paint-shed where we stylised our armour some more. Ixius painted a large I (for Ixius) on his chestplate, although I’m sure I’ve seen that particluar letter dislplayed in similar manners before...
- Started preparing this week’s lighting-raid on an imperial hive-city called Necromunda. Apparently, the guv and all his officers and allies had been planning this raid for months, and have done all the nescessary calculations. With the forces we’re gonna use, the hive city will be reduced to a scorched wasteland littered with the dead in no time!
- In the evening, the guv violently slaughtered one of his own marines. The reason was that the marine had been given a mutated head by his god. What had his head mutated into? Two eagle-heads...

Day 2, week 3
- Got up early to play Blood-hockey with the lads, against a team composed of bloodthirsty beastmen and some imperial prisoners. With the game being my first one for ages, I only managed two kill-goals and one goal-kill. In the end, we won the game 18-3.
- Later, my squad and I was ordered into the desert-region of the planet to crush a beastman rebellion against us. When arriving, we saw that without any material to build a proper base with, they had constructed a gigantic sandcastle in the middle of the sea of sand-dunes. I was the big hero of the campaign, firing the descisive (and only) shot which took down their stronghold, burying them underneath. Was rewarded a medallion by the guv, which was ripped from my armour again when the lads told him what kind of resistance we had met.

Day 3, week 3
- Brother Taxius and brother Cormius came up with a great tactical idea today: Havoc bikers. Taxius and Cormius decided on sharing their stroke of strategic genius withe the guv himself, and went at once to his throne-room. Strangely enough, only one of them received a public execution for their stupidity (Cormius). Infact the guv assembled a unit of Havoc bikers, and made Taxius the unit sergeant. Apparently, the guv thought leading such a pointless unit on the battlefield would be prove to be punishment enough.
- Around noon, brother Praetorax threw a spray of “Mr. Clean” into the plague-marines’ tent as a joke. Punishment was dished out by the guv, who ensured that Praetorax will have his hands busy for quite a while; Praetorax was ordered to polish the armour of all the company’s plague-marines, and only when every single piece of armour has passed the white-glove test, will he be allowed to stop. Not suprisingly, a dozen of our company’s marines joined the Nurgle-cult today, for obvious reasons.
- Used most of the day packing my bags and preparing for the hive-city assault.

Day 4, week 3

(Nothing was written this day)

Day 5, week 3
- Mission to destroy hive-city Necromunda yesterday was cancelled, as our base fell under attack by a force of Iron Warriors before sunrise. Me and the rest of my squad were taken as captives by them, and we were taken deep into the warp aboard a small space hulk the Iron Warriors had mobilized. Their commanding warsmith said to us: “Half of your men escaped, half of your men were killed, and the last half were captured.” (So much for the Iron Warriors’ cold and efficient LOGIC) But he also told us how amazed he was by our defence skill, and that he was impressed by our tactical abilities. Apparently, the Havoc bikers had held back the Iron Warriors for several hours, allowing many marines to escape the doomed base.
- Today, we landed on a desert-planet (Tellarm or Tallern or something) for unknown reasons, and from my iron cage (which I was held in) I overheard two Iron Warriors playing in the sand:

“My sandcastle is bigger than yours!”
“No it isn’t!”
“Yes it is, and it has lascannons here and here, and these are missile lauchers!”
“Well mine’s got that aswell, and a moat full of skulls and barbed wire!”
“Your lascannons aren’t placed at the right spots! What if the enemy attacked here? Or here? Or put heavy fire on this wall? You’d have to concentrate the fire on that area over by the dead lizard, while your terminators got into position over by that pile of bones. And barbed wire placed over there isn’t gonna slow the enemy down! You’ve gotta put another turret on this spot here, next to the cactus, and have warriors standing ready over here in case of a breakthrough. And what if that scorpion over there assaulted this wall? I’d suggest a squad of...”

No doubt the Iron Warriors are tactical geniuses. I never learned what their business on the desert-planet was, and we left only hours later.

Day 6, week 3
- Early in the morning, we were brutally dragged from our warm and comfy chains and shackles and pitched against a squad of Obliterators in a game of inter-planetary Blood-hockey. We were solemnly beaten 23-2, with two casualties, one IGB (In-Game-Betrayal), and four of our men are probably still drifting into space.
- Discovered on my way back to the cell that the guv is also aboard the hulk. Not a big suprise really, as it’s not like him to run away or die in the heat of battle.
- Played Death-poker with a makeshift deck of cards (don’t ask), and I stole the show, winning three pieces of dry bread and five glasses of stagnant water.

Day 7, week 3
- Enjoyed a peaceful day in the cell. Nothing much happened, apart from brother Garvius being put in a straightjacket, brother Xathras climbing the walls, and the ever-complaining, ever-wining, ALWAYS annoying brother Urshar being knocked out, permanently. (NOT by me, I swear...)
- Later, a brilliantly co-operated jailbreak was carried out. Lead by the guv, all the Black Legion captives aboard the space hulk rampaged through the drifting metal-behemoth, killing everything we met, and probably everything we didn’t meet, considering we ended it all by blowing the hulk into at least two pieces. (Doesn’t have the same effect as “a million pieces,” does it?)

Day 1, week 4
- Back on our good old planet! We all celebrated our happy return with a visit to the killing grounds. Even the guv joined in, and we all had a merry time killing each other, since there was no-one else to fight. The guv said afterwards that events like these are nescessary to determine who are worthy of serving him. Those who died were obviously not worthy. Later, we partied in the mess, the sorcerer conjuring drinks from the depths of the warp, and we all got totally hammered. (Note: It’s fun dancing with Horrors when you’re drunk)

Day 2, week 4
- Received tragic news that brother Praetorax had comitted suicide with a bomb, finally having had enough of polishing plague-infested armour. There was a memorial service at noon, with the (very few) remains of Praetorax being ritually fed to a pack of wild mutant-geese. Everyone attended except the plague-marines, who had lost both their servant and their sergeant when the bomb went off. Ironically, the bomb-explosion had burnt every drop of slime off their armour...
- Brother Arzhar, the Toy of the Gods (which he has been titled by his superior) has received yet another mutation. His latest hideous feature is a frog’s chin. And while we was captured aboard the space hulk, he had been gifted a fish-tail. Lay awake all night because of the noises coming from his tent. (Note: “Riddip” and “croak” are the two most annoying sounds in the galaxy.)

Day 3, week 4
- Felt like doing nothing, so rented three videos with some of my squad-mates: “Edward Lightning-claws”, “Children of the Khorne”, and a documentary film starring among others the guv himself: “Pitch Black Crusade.”
- After having watched films for hours and eventually getting fed up, we went to the mess. On the tent, there hung a large poster with a picture of his majesty Abaddon the Despoiler, pointing at us with his Talon of Horus, and the text read “Abaddon wants you!” Inspired by the movie we had just watched (and just for kicks, of course), my entire squad (including me) put their names up for the next Black Crusade. We decided that burning planets, killing imperials and enslaving billions looks great, and we made the guv really proud of us too.
- Later, we found this really neat piece of armour in the junkyard, and brother Halus put it on at once. Of course, no-one told him that what he had just put on was a suit of armour from the Thousand Sons legion. And we quickly discovered that it was still occupied by it’s original wearer, when the armour ran off with Halus screaming to get out.

Day 4, week 4
- Today, sarge told us that there were already thousands of regulars who had signed up for his majesty Abaddon’s next Black Crusade. In order to participate in the crusade, our squad had to choose a more specialized style of warfare, since there was still a shortage of specialist troops in the Black Crusade army. We had a poll, and it was soon decided that our path was to become bikers. Without further ado, we all started practising to become bikers, something that was quite hard considering we had not been issued any bikes yet.
- Saw the new poster at the mess, telling that there is a contest to see who can recruit the most marines into joining the Black Crusade. (First prize is an antique shoulderplate worn by the great commander Orghoth, that’s for recruiting 20 marines.) Went to Arzhar’s tent and tried persuading him into joining the crusade, and he finally agreed to, after I had outdone myself in making up lame reasons for him to join.
Day 5, week 4
- Got up before sunrise and ran around camp recruiting marines to join the crusade. I realised that if I wake them from their sleep early in the morning, most of the marines will say (or agree to do) anything as long as you go away and let them sleep.
- Went to the head-office and handed in the paper with all the signatures. It actually turned out that I didn’t win the recruitment-contest, as the Berzerker champion had walked around the camp last night and forced a heap of marines to join. If the choice is between going on a Black Crusade or getting you head cut off, what would you have answered? Anyway, I won second prize, a really cool replica of Khârn the Betrayer’s helmet. After scaring a few of my squad-mates out of bed by wearing the helmet and shouting “Blood for the Blood God!”, I painted it black and adorned it with the Eye of Horus, the most infamous of all the Chaos symbols. (Plus it’s my favorite one.)
- Went to Arzhar’s tent, and helped him paint the Eye on his turtle-shell. Actually, I didn’t, and wrote instead: “One-man zoo!” A mean thing to do? Hardly, since mutants always say they want to be treated like everone else.

Day 6, week 4
- Today, some crucial messages were given to us by sarge. The Black Crusade is commencing in one week, but we won’t be joining it until the main fleet comes to our system, which should happen a few days later. Also, he told us that our squad had been accepted to become bikers, and that our bikes would be issued to us when we join the fleet. Finally, he told us that the guv has been accepted into Abaddon’s inner circle of lords for the crusade. Apparently, this is to be celebrated next week at the newly built pub/pleasure-house “Sex, drugs and worse!”, erected by the Slaaneshi cult.
- Went around camp all day trying to get hold of some drinks for next week’s party. I came over several choices: the regular boozed-up blood, a bottle of “Brother Bravius’ Belly-burner,” and some green slime which sticked to the wall when I threw it. In the end, I went with the Belly-burner for variety, since the slime tasted bad, and I’m tired of boozed-up blood. (Besides, the last time I drunk it, I vomited up big lumps of coagulated blood the next day, which pleased only the berzerker who I allowed to have them.)
- Played Death-poker with the squad, and lost my fake Khorne-necklace (Oh no:). I also lost a gold tooth that I never knew I had. Apparently, brother Renghar, who won it, had been a friend of brother Lurg, the former owner of my jaw.

Day 7, week 4
- Walked around camp with brother Fermicus and sold off all the gear that we won’t be needing when we become bikers. Traded our beloved Heavy bolter for a skull-shaped helmet, an antique deck of cards and a small Chaos familiar that was found in the mess sink this morning.
- After a big, bloody fight that probably pleased Khorne, brother Halus got to keep the skull-helmet. Then we played a quick game of Death-poker (without the full rules, since we wanted to be at full strength for the crusade), and since no-one wanted the familiar, I guess I’ stuck with it.
- In the evening, sarge assembled us in the main tent where we were to discuss biker-tactics. After hours of debating, arguing, countless feet being stamped and fists being hammered onto the table in rage, we finally agreed on a strategy: the good old “Charge!!!”

Day 1, week 5
- Had nothing to do, so I went with brother Furiax to the killing-grounds, to test our mettle against the good old beastman horde. Dispite our fearless fighting, me even managing a Double-Decap without trying to, we were outnumbered and quickly surrounded. But fortunately, some last-minute help in the form of the berzerker-squad arrived, and they quickly turned the place into a fountain of blood.
- Used the rest of the afternoon trying to get all the beastman-blood off my armour. Later, I went to the mess to try out today’s special, “Rotting corpse.” (Plague marines had mess-duty today) It tasted kinda out of date.

Day 2, week 5
- Borrowed the latest copy of “Universe at War” from brother Vulkus, and read interesting article on combat-bikes. Got some really cool ideas for my future “metal steed” (that’s what us pros call our bikes), and I’m definately gonna try out the flame-pattern.
- Later today, the list of Crusade-squads was hung up. It turned out that two thirds of our company, including the guv himself, have enlisted into his majesty Abaddon’s crusade. Noted down names of all the squads joining: Squad Estragor (Raptors, lead by the guv himself), Squad Dharkos (Possessed), Squad Zerus (Havocs), Squad Sargoth (That’s us! Bikers, of course), Squad Traghius (Plague marines) and Squad Mhorkorus (Berzerkers). Also, we’re committing a Rhino APC and the Land Raider “Eternal Hatred” to serve in Abaddon’s forces.
- Went to Arzhar’s tent in the evening. He’s not been put in any of the squads, it turned out, but is being taken along with some other (weirdo) marines to be used as auxilliaries. Had a long chat with him, mostly about violence and the meaning of death. Noticed before I left that it looks like a pair of rabbit-ears are appearing on his head.

Day 3, week 5
- The day started with us talking about the World Eaters at the mess. When we came to the fact that they have no recorded home-world, brother Hades found a good reason why: “They ate it.” Stupidity-execution carried out by the guv, who hates stupid people (and doesn’t like bad jokes either.) Only minutes later, brother Unghor foolishly asked out loud: “If Slaanesh is the god of sex, why is it Tzeentch who’s got a thousand sons?” It resulted in the guv having killed two of his own men for being stupid before breakfast was over.
- Checked the mail, and found a flyer with “Join the BDA” displayed on the front. After reading through it, I found out that it wasn’t anyhting for me. (A Chaos marine joining “Blood-Drinkers Anonymous”? I don’t think so.)
- In the evening, the (slightly delayed) party to celebrate our return was held. (We were captured aboard a space hulk, remember?) We all had a jolly good time, but soon a pack of daemons invited themselves to the party. Before night was over, a drunken Plaguebearer had vomited on Brother Fratius (killing him), a swarm of Nurglings got the Land Raider going and drove away with it, and three of our men were possessed by daemons. It all came to a finale when a enormous Great Unclean One materialized in the pub, squashing several marines and cultists to death upon it’s arrival. (Note: Nurgloid daemons are very annoying. Remeber NOT to get possessed by one!)

Day 4, week 5
- Awoke face down in a puddle of slime behind the bar. Got up just in time to get out of the pub before it was demolished. Apparently, it was fully trashed inside, and so full of slime from the daemons that dropped in last night, that the guv saw no reason in keeping it standing. Instead, he is planning to erect a Chaos monolith in it’s place.
- Our squad was called to search for the Land Raider which was hijacked by the Nurglings last night. We eventually found it half-buried by sand in the desert-region of the planet. It was littered with dead Nurglings, dryed up and shrivelled, who obviously couldn’t cope with the heat. Brother Furiax insisted riding back to base on top of the tank, but it almost cost him his life; When we returned his lungs were half-filled with sand, and he was twice as heavy to carry because of the amount of sand inside his armour.
- Used the rest of the afternoon sharing thoughts about war with the familiar.

Day 5, week 5

Day 6
- Finally found my diary! Who on earth put it under my bed? Thanks to whoever it was, I didn’t get to write anything in it yesterday.
- Had a talk with Arzhar (who by the way has got a pair of rabbit-ears now, just as I predicted.) He says he’s going to be grouped with the possessed once we join the Black Crusade, even though there isn’t a daemon in him (yet). Had a glass of vintage boozed-up blood (slightly coagulated, but that’s how it’s supposed to be, apparently) and talked about how the Crusade’s gonna be like. Promised we’d meet again before we leave.

Day 7, week 5
- Spent the day making huge posters and banner reading: “Warmaster, command us!” and “Welcome, Your Highness!” They were all spread out on the camp-grounds facing upwards. Brother Grax dug a deep hole in the ground and covered it with a huge sheet, on which he had written “Land here!” It was just intended as a joke, of course. However, the guv quickly found out (the hard way), and Grax was shackled, gagged and blindfolded and thrown in the pit immeditaly. However, he was not buried alive. Instead, the guv simply covered the pit again with the same sheet. (Talk about digging your own grave...)
- We all wrote our wills in the mess. Decided that if I die, sarge can keep all my stuff. (Note: Remeber to make sure brother Tryvus doesn’t survive the crusade, since he’s put me up for his antique pre-heresy bolter if he dies.)
- Couldn’t sleep, lay awake thinking about the crusade.

What will Abaddon be like?
How long before I get my bike?
How many planets will we burn?
Will I be dead before we return?

Coming soon! “A Chaos Space Marine’s Diary: The Black Crusade”

This is part 2, "the Black Crusade". Watch out, though, as some parts of it were made less jokes and more fluff by the author.

"A Chaos Space Marine's Diary: The Black Crusade"

Day 1, week 6
1 Awoke from sarge bellowing orders to everyone. Apparently, his majesty Abaddon's fleet is due here tomorrow, and today was our last chance to do whatever we want to before we're off to burn the galaxy. Having spent yesterday wisely, packing all my stuff and all that, I walked around camp all day. Arzhar was busy packing his gear, having some problems carrying it all with his new crab's claw. Arturion, my bloodthirsty berzerking friend, was busy arguing with his sergeant. Apparently, their squad consisted of nine marines, while Khorne's sacred number is eight. Not suprisingly, a member of the squad was removed (or at least his head was).
2 Payed a visit to the pit of slime, where the cultists and marines of Nurgle were busy gathering up their stuff. Watched them filling bags, bottles and buckets full with slime, and taking them to the landing-site. Obviously, they intend to "make themselves at home" in one of the ships. Their Champion, Traghius, offered me a final chance to join their squad, which I declined, although I don't think he bought my excuse. ("Green just isn't my colour...")
3 Again, couldn't sleep because of the big day tomorrow.

Day 2, week 6
3 Suprised to wake up late and find that the fleet hadn't arrived yet. Everyone was so tence and excited, the landing site was crammed with marines and cultists alike. The Sorcerer was restlessly dipping his mind in and out of the warp, checking for any signs of the fleet arriving. The berzerkers were fighting amongst each other (friendly at first, but it ended with a bloody chainsword and a severed arm), the Plague marines were dozing in a huge puddle of slime, and the Slaaneshi were doing things a bit too rude to describe here.
4 About mid-day, a marine from Squad Zerus was executed by the guv for thinking that the Death Guard's pre-heresy name was the Life Guard. ("I mean, it makes sence, doesn't it...? What? The Guv?! Where?!!") Thankfully, the guv was so busy with this that he never heard brother Xathras claim that there is a successor chapter of the Iron Hands called the Iron Feet.
5 Then finally, just as the second sun was about to set, gigantic black ships of the Black Legion fleet went into orbit around the planet. Huge transport-ships descended from the sky, and landed somewhere on the horison. Everyone was so disappointed that they hand't landed where we had put out the signs, except perhaps brother Grax, who was still stuck in his pit, and the immature brother Draegon, who had written a poem and drawn a picture of Abaddon.
6 Upon arriving at the ships, our squads grouped up, and boarded the ships. We were all told that the main fleet had moved on to the next system, and that we would catch up with it sometime tomorrow. Unfortunately, all the squads except the guv and his Raptors had been crammed into one ship, and there was only one huge room that we all had to share. Dumped my stuff in a corner and then went and did nothing with the rest of the lads. This was kinda fun for a while, but we stopped doing it after a while since we didn't want to take all the fun out of it at once.

Day 3, week 6
7 Last night was the worst night ever! Firstly, there was an incredibly strong stink of corruption and decay oozing from those damned Plague marines (Okey, I know we're ALL damned, LITTERALLY, but you get my meaning). And through the night I was awoken several times by berzerkers cying "Blood for the Blood God!" in their sleep. One of them had even lashed out with his weapon while asleep, and in the morning I awoke in a puddle of blood next to a dead marine with a chain-axe dug into his chest.
8 In the guv's abscence, we all had a merry time shouting out our best (and worst) jokes. I don't know how many times I heard the words "World Munchers", "Emperor's Grandchildren", "Thousand Daughters" and "Day Lords." In the end, an execution was carried out by the sorcerer, who (it turned out) also has the right to execute, and who happened to be aboard our ship. He could have told us that he was present before brother Ixius shouted that thing about the sorcerer having lost his mind in the warp.
9 By mid-day, we had all had enough of the ship. The Tzeentchians were saying to each other: "We need a change of settings", the Nurgloids were muttering: "We'll never find that main fleet, there's no hope for us", the Slaaneshi were saying: "Let's enjoy it while it lasts", and the Khornates occasionally shouted "Blood for you-know-who!"
10 But suddenly, the sorcerer shouted out: "We are now approaching the main Black Crusade fleet, please fasten your backpacks and put out your cigarettes and the raging fire in you souls. Boarding will commence in a few minutes." Minutes later came a large "clank!" from the ship, and before we had time to say "What the warp is going on?", the main doors to our ship opened. Beyond was a vast hangar full of shuttles, fighters, recon-craft and assault-boats.
11 After exiting the dreaded transport ship in an organised fashion (well, not THAT organised, we're Chaos after all), we were immediatly formed into ranks and adressed by some bigwig Exhalted Champion. Apparently, we were now aboard the ship "Immeasurable Rage", and we had arrived just in time for his majesty Abaddon's big speech. We watched it live from his battle barge on a big screen in the hangar, together with two other companies of marines.

"Honourable and not that honourable marines! Today our conquest of the galaxy officially begins.
Today is the day when the Imperium will once again hear the might of the Warp approaching, like herd of mutant elephants, the day when they will feel the black and slimy talon of darkness reaching out from the depths.
We shall once again sow terror in the hearts of the mortals, we shall once again be the ones who fan the embers of heresy into outright rebellion.
This time, they will not stop us, for the shadow of Chaos cannot be stopped. It will always be there, watching humanity from without, like a camouflaged moth on a tree, and corrupting humanity from within, just like boozed-up blood does when you're drunk.
Alone and divided we will not have much hope of defeating the imperium, for they are many, and we are... not that many. But when the legions of despair, the chosen of darkness stand together, we are probably unstoppable.
And sitting on his golden butt with wires and pipes sticking out from every part of his body, the phoney emperor knows this. He thinks he has seen the gods at the peak of their powers, and knows that they are strong, too strong. But the beast of Chaos has not truly awoken from it's slumber, and when it does, it's powers will be beyond metric measure!"

1 At this point, I stopped paying attention and instead stood watching the hottest Keeper of Secrets I have ever seen in my life, which was hovering half-visible above the ranks of marines, in a cloud of sparkling smoke. By the time it had vanished, his majesty's speech was finished, and there came a deafening roar followed by loud chanting from all the other marines. I joined in, of course, although I wasn't quite sure what we were chanting. In lack of imagination, I chanted "Rights for Squats!" (Popular chant these days) Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice.
2 At the end of a long day, we were split up and sorted into different companies, so some of our squads were transfered to different ships. Squad Mhorkorus, the berzerkers, were teleported aboard the "Everlasting Fury", a ship under command of one Lord Xenofexius, champion of Khorne. The Plague marines of Squad Traghius also departed, to form the Honour Guard (read: Odour Guard) of a Nurgloid champion known only as Infectius. And as for the guv, he and his squad of Raptors also left the ship, destined to become part of his majesty Abaddon's 1st Company.
3 Finally, after a long day featuring a lot of waiting for orders, we were given cabin-keys. My cabin-mate turned out to be brother Furiax, a good friend (or "Battle Companion"; Chaos marines aren't supposed to have friends, apparently.)

Day 4, week 6
3 Almost overslept on my first day in the crusade, as I was too fast asleep to hear sarge banging on the door with a powerfist (I didn't wake up before he accidentaly smashed the fist THROUGH the door and knocked the already-awake brother Furiax back to sleep.)
4 Went to the main hall for a first day briefing and orientation together with the rest of the company. We were all glad to hear that we would get our bikes today, and after the Exhalted Champion Astralax had babbled uninteresting nonsence for what seemed like a few weeks (time flows differently in the warp), our squad were teleported aboard the fleet's supply ship.
5 Once there, we entered the large storage-rooms, and made our way through mountains of crates, forests of chains and oceans of nuts and bolts, and finally found all the crusade's bikes lined up neatly in a (long) row. We all picked out a bike each. I chose a newly captured imperial model, featuring the newest twin bolters and a neat skull-motif, which I chose not to remove. When everyone was satisfied, we got on our metal steeds and drove back to the teleport area. Only one of us managed to reach the destination without crashing or falling off: the multi-talented (and proud of it) brother Jaeger. Personally, I managed to drive full speed straight inside an open Land Raider, which hadn't been so bad if there wasn't already a squad of big and spiky terminators inside. Brother Furiax tried to do a wheelie, but he managed only to get thrown to the floor and getting knocked unconscious. His bike continued across the room, and a marine from another squad got his helmet-hair entangled in the bike's front wheel. His head was twisted around several times before anyone came to the rescue, but fortunately the marine was daemon-possessed and didn't feel a thing. Brother Halus, on the other hand, crashed into a crate of missiles, and it ended with explosive results. And to make matters worse, the near-dead Halus couldn't receive any treatment for his wounds, since the fleet's only sick-bay has been taken over by Fabius Bile. Brother Halus became our squad's first casualty of the crusade.
6 When we arrived back on the "Immeasurable Rage", we were given some important messages from Exhalted Champion Astralax. Tomorrow, biker-newbies are going to train their skills on some barren desert-planet. And the day after tomorrow, we're going on our first raid!

Day 5, week 6
7 Landed on the desert-planet early in the morning, to begin practising on bikes immediatly. The huge open space really gave us all the room we wanted, and we quickly sped off in different directions. After three hours of practise and five hours of trying to find the rendezvous-point, our squad was back at the landing-site. Only one casualty, brother Bravius had apparently fallen into a huge pit with teeth, somewhere in the great ocean of sand. That leaves our squad reduced to eight marines before we've seen any real action.
8 Later, we received full briefing of tomorrow's mission. Tomorrow, the fleet will be divided into smaller groups of ships, although his majesty Abaddon usually prefers his stuff to be "undivided". Anyway, our company's fast attack units have been selected to aid the Iron Warriors 11th Grand Company in assaulting the planet Selectius VII (We didn't like this alliance one bit, but according to Lord Astralax: "...in a Black Crusade, you've got to be prepared for situations like this, blah blah blah...") We all left the briefing in a bad mood, although I guess we're going to Selectius tomorrow no matter how much we hate the Iron Warriors.

Day 6, week 6
9 Started the day with a last minute briefing with sarge, who had been told the battle-plans by the Warsmith of the Iron Warriors. Fortunately, it's a fairly straightforward plan. Unfortunately, the plan consists of our squad driving full speed into an imperial-held trench-complex, where we according to plan are supposed to: "deal as much damage as possible, and stay clear of incoming Iron Warriors artillery-fire." And of course, the always annoying last message: "Expect Imperial Space Marine resistance." Shortly after the meeting, we all went and wrote "Despair!" on our armour. (Note: In case you wondered, this commonly displayed word has nothing to do with the end of the universe. Those who display it on their armour have simply been given hopeless missions.)

Selectius VII
At 0900 hours, local time, we descended on the planet Selectius VII. From the second we entered low orbit, our ships took heavy fire. Last minute orders and prayers to the dark ones filled the comm-system, and the first-glance terrain analyses were given to our squad. The words we heard had undoubtably been picked straight from the first page of the book "What a biker doesn't want to hear". The senctence "Bumpy, wet and muddy" stuck to our minds like leeches, sucking out every last drop of courage and hope.
The second after the door of our transport opened, like the maw of an nightmarish beast, we embarked with the deafening roar of deamonic engines. Squeezing triggers and spraying forth bullets as if our lives depended on it (which wasn't far from the truth), Squad Sargoth raced ahead into the foggy no-man's land. In our wake followed black-painted personel-carriers and the armoured giants of our Land Raiders.
We sped across the hellish half-swamp, our coloured tails of helmet-hair flowing in the wind, bullets, lasers and rockets coming straight at us and whining past our heads, providing us with a much-appreciated adrenaline kick.
As my bike skidded into a ditch and a bolter-shell strafed my shoulderplate, the bike ahead of me exploded, the colossal blast shaking the ground like the stride of a titan. Like a blossoming flower of fire, the explosion lit up it's surroundings, and I was blinded by it's white core. Infernal heat made my sweat pour, and cowering behind my bike like a beetle under a rock, I shouted through my comm-link "Taking heavy fire!"
A series of shouts, roars, screams and battlecries filled my ears as I reached for my trusted bolt pistol, acnowledging the fact that my metal steed could carry me no further. I lept forth from cover, and with the angry scream of a bolt-pistol firing, I emptied a magazine of bullets into the darkness ahead of me.
The fog of war was thick as a warp-storm, and my surroundings blacker than my soul. But undaunted, I strode forth with fiendish bravery, and gunned down a pitiful mortal before he had time to shout for help. The roaring noise of explosions was all around, and the booming pulse of bolter-fire filled the air. Another hapless target presented itself, a wounded imperial soldier striving to reload his weapon. A merciless slash of my sword ended his suffering, and I advanced through the war-zone, my eyes scanning the visible terrain for another victim; Another victim to be sacrificed to the ever-increasing might of Chaos! Muhahahaha, I love this job!!
Soon, the unmistakeable sound of incoming artillery-fire drowned the other noises of battle. The ground shook as explosive shells impacted amongst us, blowing men and machines to bits, and sending debris and severed limbs flying. The blasts blew us off our feet, and ear-shattering bangs made men scream in pain. Total havoc, absolute chaos, survival instinct was the only thing that controlled us. Men fought each other for the little cover available, and all sence of martial honour and bravery was forgotten as death rained upon us from above.
Sudden heavy-bolter fire could be heard nearby, and I was punched off my feet as a speeding shell hit me in the side, sending me to the ground in indescribable pain. As warriors clashed all around me, shouting war-cries and entering the fray suicidally, and I slowly sank into the mud, and my vision faded...

Day 7, week 6
10 Found myself lying bandaged in my bed when I woke up, with brother Furiax leaning over me. He told me that our mission yesterday had gone EXACTLY as we had predicted: Impossible terrain for biking, heavily outnumbered in enemy territory, and the Iron Warriors fire-support made things just as bad for us as for the imperials. Fortunately, most of the friendly casualties had been from squad Dravius, the other biker squad that had joined us in the assault. Squad Sargoth had taken only two casualties, brothers Vulkus and Rhengar.
11 Spent most of the day recovering from my injury, and discussing yesterday's mission with the lads. At least Vulkus and Rhengar didn't die in vain, as I learned that the forces of Chaos had won the battle yesterday, and already enslaved the entire planet's population. But although the Iron Warriors received all the honour for the victory, their Warsmith simply replied: "About time!"
12 For fun, our squad went to the Word Bearers' victory-party, celebrating that they had converted two entire planets to our religion in only one day. The party offered a lot of drunken praying, an unholy amount of wall-to-wall vomiting, and of course the Word Bearers sang their favourite drinking-song (as fast as they could): "How many words could a Word Bearer bear, if a Word Bearer could bear words?"

Day 1, week 7
13 Woke up without my armour, lying on my back on the Word Bearers' Altar of Sacrifice which I vaguely remeber from last night. After regrouping with the rest of the lads and removing a large dagger from my chest (it had only pierced one heart, fortunately), we left the Word Bearers ship "Lorgars Hand of Fire", and returned to our quarters on the Immeasurable Rage.
14 I received treatment for my wound, and I thoroughly regret my drunken descision last night (Being sacrificed to the dark gods WASN'T a blast after all...) But the Word Bearers have ten thousand years of experience when it comes to sacrificing stuff (especially marines), so how they managed NOT to kill me remains a mystery.
15 Later, Lord Astralax gave us the weekly crusade update. Tragically, almost the entire squad Varrus has been KIA (Killed In Action), and most of squad Mhorkorus has been SIA (Slaughtered in Action). I'm crossing my fingers (and the tentacle equivalent) that brother Arturion of squad Mhorkorus survived.
More unhappy news: the Nurgle champion Infectius has left the crusade without permission, to search for the Plague Planet. Under his command were numerous Plague marine-squads, including my mates in squad Traghius. I'm really dissapointed that Traghius and his lads have left us, and besides, it's not like Nurgloids to do things like that, since they usually hate all kinds of change.
There was more news. Apparently, the Alphans were inches from defeat on Framork III. After the main battle-plan and four backup-plans had failed, their 5th backup consisted of calling for support from the Iron Warriors 9th Grand Company. The Iron Warriors commenced using their standard tactic, and almost fifty Alpha warriors, two bike-squads, three Rhinos and commander Hydraxus were accidentaly annihilated by their orbital bombardment. With the Alphans dead, the orks claimed victory, as the Iron Warriors were short on bombs, and ran out before the entire planet had been scorched.

Day 2, week 7
16 Early today, we were all told that the imperials have started offering some real resistance, and apparently, they plan on taking the fight to us. An anti-Chaos crusade has been formed from several chapters of Space Marines. These chapters have been selected to not only defend planets we attack, but also to be on the offensive, attacking the Black Crusade fleet. According to our sorcerer, a small number of space marine assault-squadrons are already pursuing us, which is bad news for our ship since it's trailing at the very end of the fleet.
17 Most of the day was spent learning how to control our ship's turrets, how to fight in deep space, and some of us were selected to learn piloting skills, so our assault-boats can provide some resistance when the imperials arrive.
18 After a few hours of the assault-boats racing each other round and round the ship, while the turret-operators practised their marksmanship by trying to hit us, we were back in the hangar bay. Squad Rhazior challenged us to a friendly game of Blood Hockey in a nearby asteroid-field, so we got back aboard the ships and headed for the asteroid selected for the game. The game was a good one (we won), though much fun is taken from a Blood Hockey game if it isn't played with the full rules. The game really helped us ease up a bit, taking our minds away from the possible imperial attack on our fleet.

Day 3, week 7

1 Today, our squad agreed to do our part of keeping Blood Hockey a popular game for millennia to come. We decided on trying to preserve the rules by writing them down and putting them in a so-called "time capsule". We all wrote down one part of the game each, and my task was to make a note of weapons commonly used in "Friendly-games", like the one we played yesterday. Too bad it had to take up space in my dreaded diary, but here it is anyway:

1 One-handed mace: Useful for knocking out players without severing limbs or creating bloody wounds.
2 Knife: Light, frequently double-bladed, handy for stabbing your way out a crowd of players. In friendly-games, the blades are usually shortened, so they can't penetrate dangerously deep into an opposing player. However, the knife's major function is that it can be poisoned. Liquids that can (temporarily) make a wounded player weak, blind, hallucinate or go insane are popular.
3 Cattle-prod: Electrically-charged device which inflicts a mild electro-shock when in contact with a player. Good for making a player lose his concentration, excellent when aimed at players' weak spots.
4 Grappling-device: Launches a hook with a piece of rope attached to it. Incredibly handy for pulling players to the ground, making players trip, and if wielded with expert skill, snatching the skull from enemy players.
5 Net: As simple as it sounds. For better results, the net can be dipped in tar or glue before a game.
6 Small creature: Some players bring a lucky creature with them onto the pitch. Varying from familiars and Nurglings to baby goblins and giant spiders, a creature can prove very effective if trained to perform useful tasks on the pitch. And if it doesn't obey, throwing it in the faces of opposing players or holding it's tail and swinging it around like a flail works too.
7 On worlds where the devices and weapons above are hard to come by, all manners of crude devices are used: Rakes, spades, hammers, saws, slings, handfulls of sand, rocks, sticks, and if nothing else presents itself: bare fists and fingers with sharp nails.

7 After writing it all down and placing a copy aboard a space-coffin which we shot into space, we decided to pay a visit to the Emperor's Children. We had heard that yesterday they suffered terrible losses during the easiest of missions, thanks that pesky Legion of the Damned. You can be sure that when victory is in sight, those black-armoured bastards will show up in their usual fashion and "save the day." We jumped aboard a transport and headed for the Slaaneshi ship.
8 We arrived on board the ship to the strangest of sounds. Lying about in the hangar, we found a small group of Noise Marines, who were jamming half-heartedly with their sonic-weapons while they smoked at least three joints each. Those who didn't wear helmets looked like hell, drooling and staring into the air with their empty eyes. (Note: Don't ever have a speaker operated into your mouth. It looks really unconfortable!)
9 We continued into the ship and found the corridors and halls littered with Slaaneshi marines and cultists, lying about just like the Noise Marines. Many of them were wired up to the drug-outlets in the wall. They babbled nonsence and sighed with satisfaction, cuddling together in heaps, the cultists caringly polishing the armour of the marines while they wispered sweet lines of decadence into their ears. The walls were covered in multicoloured grafitti, displaying rude pictures as well as beautiful landscapes from the most idyllic daemon-worlds.
10 We finally found the officer in charge, a newly appointed Chaos Lord (or Drug Lord, as Slaaneshis prefer to be called) who told us that yesterday their inspirational and much loved former leader had been killed, and very few had survived the ambush of the black marines. We soon left the depressed Emperor's Children, since they proved no fun when all they wanted to do was die high.

Day 4, week 7
1 A massive fight broke out in the mess this morning. We were eating breakfast with squad Rhazior when sarge and sergeant Rhazior got annoyed with each other for some forgotten reason. Rhazior punched sarge in the face with his powerfist, and soon we were all fighting. During the early stages of the fight, two speeding bullets bound for my head somehow hit each other in mid air, both getting knocked out of course and killing two marines from Squad Rhazior instead! (Can it have had anything to do with my extra prayer to Tzeentch last night?) Anyway, I was the great hero of the battle, single-handedly rescuing brother Fermicus from the clutches of squad Rhazior, who had fortified themselves in the kitchen. My combat-skills with the saucepan became legendary today, since only a few marines had brought along their weapons to breakfast, and I wasn't one of them. (We haven't had to bring weapons to breakfast since that time back on Ytholgar, when the chef served Nurgling-stew without killing the Nurglings first.)
2 Spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess in the mess after the fight. I KNEW brother Fermicus had gone too far when he fired a missile into the kitchen to avenge being held hostage by squad Rhazior. And trying to breach the kitchen-wall by catapulting the huge stewpan at it wasn't the brightest of ideas either. And we all thoroughly regretted igniting the oven-gas, since the resulting flame-blast had ruined the oven and burnt a week's worth of food. Squad Rhazior were sent down to a nearby planet to get more water, since they had used up all the water by boiling it and hurling it out the kitchen-door at us during the fight. And they were also given the responsibility to replace the mess-tables which had been used as barricades, the meat-steaks which had been used as clubs, and of course the kitchen crew, who they had used as gun-fodder during our first assault.
3 Later, brother Xathras and I went around the ship looking for fun. We found a teleport-homer in the hangar, and Xathras "over-focused it's proximity-level" (Don't ask me what that means, but it sounded cool.). Then we managed to hide the homer inside the Dreadnought "Blackwound".

Day 5, week 7
3 Awoke to some shattering news. Apparently, during a Deep Strike mission last night, our company's entire squad of Terminators had been killed, and we'd also lost a Dreadnought! It was really a freak accident: All the terminators had materialised INSIDE the Dreadnought when teleporting down to the planet-surface. Xathras tried to assure me that what we had done with the teleport-homer and the Dreadnought yesterday had nothing to do with the accident. But I don't really care, since a vital part of being a Chaos marine is to not care about anything!
4 More bad news, perhaps even worse than the first. Brother Jaeger from our squad had the most terrible nightmares last night. He witnessed the death of our beloved Warmaster at the hands of the false Emperor. You see, deeply ingrained within our Black Legion' gene-seed is the encoded experience of Horus, and many say that most deeply imprinted of all is the memory of his final battle with the Emperor. Sometimes an event or circumstance will trigger this memory. This appears to happen only rarely, often on the eve of battle, and it is likely to be a fatal experience for the warrior whose mind is suddenly wrenched into the distant past. What has become known as the Black Hatred overcomes him, the memories and consciousness of Horus intrude upon his mind, and dire events ten thousand years old flood into the present. This we know to be true. To others, a Chaos Space Marine overcome by the Black Hatred appears half mad with fury: he is unable to distinguish past from present, and does not recognise his comrades. He may believe he is Horus upon the eve of his destruction, and that the bloody battles of the Horus Heresy are raging around him. As well as Horus's memories, the Chaos Space Marine is touched with a small portion of the Warmaster's unearthly power, boosting the warrior's already prodigious strength and vitality to superhuman levels. Those Chaos marines who suffer this condition are formed into units known as the "Eyes of Horus." That's where we'll find brother Jaeger from now on. I THINK the imperials have an equivalent of our "Eyes of Horus."
5 Later, Sarge showed us a ten thousand years old picture the Guv, the only guy we know who's been around since the days before the Heresy. Can you believe that GREY was our fashion in those days? It makes ya think...

Day 6, week 7
1 This morning, by sheer coincidence, I bumped into brother Arzhar. He's joined squad Dharkos, the possessed, and is having one hell of a time scaring the ***** out of the enemies they face. And if a creature like Arzhar comes running towards you, you'll either wet yourself with fear or fall to the ground laughing. Either way, Arzhar will have the advantage. Also, he's been gifted more goodies from the gods, including the arm of a praying mantis, the backside of an elephant and some monkey's ears. He introduced me to his squad, basically a bunch of crazy daemons using dead marine bodies as vehicles to move about in the material universe. Charming.
2 Felt like doing something evil (it's perfectly natural for a Chaos marine), so brother Xathras and I teleported from ship to ship, telling all the other legions how our genius of a primarch had corrupted their primarches. You should have seen the look on the Iron Warriors warsmith when we told him that it was Horus, not the Emperor, who had been giving the Iron Warriors all those hopeless missions in the days before the heresy. It was priceless! However, our fun was cut short when the Word Bearers proudly announced that they had turned to Chaos before Horus did. But then we went to the Night Lords and reminded them that their primarch was killed by a puny female imperial assassin. Finally, we dropped by an Alpha Legion ship. Annoyingly enough, we couldn't find any flaws to make fun of, but shouting "Alpharius was a fool!" (even without anything to back it) conjured up the reaction we were looking for. Perhaps we hit a nerve...
3 Later in the evening, just before we were about to retreat to our quarters for the night, came the devastating news. Lord Astralax came to our squad and delivered us the message. Squad Sargoth is in danger of being disbanded! According to Astralax, there have been so many complaints against our squad that his majesty Abaddon feels he has no choice but to get rid of us. Fortunately, Astralax managed to convince Abaddon to give us one last chance, which we'll really have to take, since there was no shortage of reaons why we are the legion's major liability. Firstly, there was our tendency to party wildly, not take our religion seriously, slaughter other squads in blood-hockey matches, not listen to orders being given, oversleep in the morning, download nude pics of N'Kari and other Slaaneshis on the ship's main computer, all those things. And then there was the battle in the mess, our terrible bike-skills, our squad's general disrespect to anyone except sarge, and last but not least the Dreadnought incident, which we are sure to be executed for if they ever find out who was responsible for it. Oh, and many members of other legions had complained about the little bit of fun we had earlier today, when we had run around taunting them.

Day 7, week 7
1 Today, we were visited by a group of die-hard Nurgloids. Their Champion had newly been given the legs of a fly. Imagine trying to walk about on those thin little legs when you're eight feet tall and wearing power-armour... Well, at least he can hang from the ceiling, and I guess it could be worse. One time back in camp I heard a story of a Slaaneshi Champion who was given a most unusual gift by his patron god. All his body-parts became erogenous. Whether this was meant to be advantageous or not, we will never know...
2 Later, we all teleported aboard the supply-ship which was passing through the fleet en route to the Eye. The ship was carrying all kinds of junk. Before we departed from it, I had got hold of a collection of Waystones, a shrunken ork-head, two kegs of some kind of drink, and Angron's autograph signed in blood (probably a fake, since I doubt Angron really spells his name with a smiley at the end:). Furiax found a fake "Forgebreaker"-hammer, a pint of old combat-drugs, a humourous parody of the Codex Astartes, and a crappy old weapon with "Mjalnar" engraved into it's rusty blade. We also got our hands on an old map, quite fortunate, since we couldn't get hold of any toilet paper! And who's looking for the location of a so-called "Black Library", anyway?
3 Later in the evening, our ship was almost hit by a two-tailed comet! We watched it zoom past our window and impact on a nearby planet. We were originally scheduled to virus-bomb that planet for fun, but Lord Astralax assumed that the comet had probably already caused some serious destruction. And when a comet impacts on a planet, it's gonna destroy a little more than just a single town. Trust me.

Day 1, week 8
1 Today, we woke up to find that the Tzeentchian cultists aboard the ship had been quite busy during the night. Driven by their need for constant change, they had been re-furnished every room, re-painted many of the walls, and done an impressive cleaning-job: All the filth and snot and slime which used to lie around was gone! Unable to do much, the unimpressed Nurgloids settled for "Okay, as long as it stays this way forever." After all, t

· Premium Member
2,600 Posts
its pretty good, but a little weird and making many mudane acts for the chaos like redecoration etc

· Jac "Baneblade" O'Bite
8,078 Posts
Not to mention kinda of long, I did kinda enjoy the parts I did read (up to about week 5).

Next time you wana space out the updates like one every couple of days to keep interest.

Good for a chuckle though.

· Registered
272 Posts
hahaha great....

· Registered
505 Posts
I've read this before but it's even better the 5th time!!!!:biggrin::laugh::biggrin:.

Strange, it looks like it's incomplete, he or someone else needs to post the rest later.
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