jakes log.

day: fuck if i know.

time: who gives a shit o'clock

planet: does it really matter?, they all look the same anyway.

regiment: 467th harkon trench crawlers. (shitty name)


so. yeah. this is my life, trudging through knee deep gore infested with ork spores and emperor knows what, i guess it's good that my legs are bionic, who knows what kinda nasty shit would happen if this touched my skin.

hold on a sec.

so, yeah, some poor sod just tripped and fell face first into this shit and is now screaming in agony.

remember kids! always tie your bootlaces, if the terrain doesn't kill you, the commisar will!

seriously, they take shit to the extreme, truth be told i think they are just looking for a reason to shoot something that isn't big, green and mean.

can't blame them.

well. I CAN, but it just isn't worth it, y'know?

i mean, i'm not going to just walk up to a commisar and say "hey! you should stop killing us!"

the last person to do that ended up getting stripped naked, hung by their legs and used as target practice for those mini com- sorry, commisars in training.

i mean, he had it coming, the dude was a massive douch, but, there are better ways of dying.

you know, after writing that, i suddenly realise that nobody can find this now.

shit talking commisars...

i'm an idiot.

me joining the imperial cannon fodder really proves that point.

look, chances are, i'm gonna be dead by the time someone other than me reads this, so does it really matter?

here look, i'll show you how little i care.

horus did nothing wrong.

the emperor is dead

sanguinius looked like a partridge.

see? of course now i'm gonna have to be extra paranoid..

yikes, that dude is still screaming in pain.

actually i think more people are screaming, give me a moment.

...

...

those are orks.

...

...

fuck.


well, that was terrifying, as if someone screaming, "THEY ARE IN THE GORE" doesn't fill you with enough dread.

I honestly have no idea how I survived that,

I'll just call it luck and leave it at that.

some poor bloke took a grenade to the chest, I'm still trying to get him out of my hair.

how many have died today I wonder.

10,000? 20,000?

can't even keep track anymore.

at least it's not raining.


I should have kept my mouth shut.

it's raining now.

yay.


I've been asked by some why I write in my diary.

I answer with "why the hell not?"

besides, space marines do it, and I don't think there is a law about that.

I wonder, what do the space marines write though?


dear diary, today, brother lokan got smacked in the face by an ork with a frying pan the size of a leman russ.

I've no idea how the greenskin managed to do that, or why a frying pan of such size exists.

we dealt with the ork as we should...after we stopped laughing.

on other subjects, i have noticed a guardsman who spends most of his time writing in a diary. i wonder what he writes on his pages?


they probably write down kill counts and litanies.

….

the space marine is looking at me.

I'll just go and make myself useful, wouldn't want to look like a slacker infront of the emperors angels.