Day 106
Was woken up in the universal manner of being kicked in the kidneys. Managed to stand up on the second attempt. Mouth tastes of fermented carpet.
I think that the ship is here.
Large crowd of people in the square. The Lemon Russ tank is still there, but it is now the right way up.
Trying to mingle with the crowd. This is not an easy task when you are more than a foot taller than everyone else, are made up of scar tissue and have fangs.
Crowd walking to ship. Going with the crowd.
Got shown to what look like the barracks. Got given a soup-bowl helmet and a las-rifle. CRAP! I have this horrible feeling that I may have been drafted. This should so not happen to an Astrates.
Really, really, REALLY wish I had not followed those pointy-eared sado-hedonists into the webway.
Everyone thinks I'm some sort of a half-ogyrn.
Day 107
After being shouted at by the Hangman to wake up we were given a very brief briefing. We are currently on route to the far galactic west for some chaos bashing. Hope the Traitor Astrates don't turn up for this one. You really can't do much to power armour with a glorified torch unless it's at point blank range, and if you are that close the one thing you can rely on is the occupant of that armour beating you to death with your own spine.
Got given a flack vest (who am I kidding, its a T-shirt) with XXXXL written on it. It's going under the scout armour.
Tried to get a bit more info on the Chaos from the Hangman. Got shouted at and told not to ask pointless and heretical questions. Got told to read the instruction manual on the las-weapon. Have now mastered this weapon. Point the narrow end at someone you don't like and pull the trigger. But if you actually want to hurt someone with it your best bet is to use it as a club.
Day 108
Snuck into the kitchen this morning (that is, what my body is telling me morning is). Got three big mean looking knives and long length of cheese wire.
Borrowed someone else's las-gun for a while. Used it as a welding torch. My las-rifle now has a bayonet. Found a supply room and 'acquired' some long screws. Melted four of them together to make caltrops.
Dinner was soup and bread. Not sure what was in the soup. Its one of them thing that life is so full of. If you are going to ask what is in it then you aren't hungry enough to actually want to eat it when you find out.
Still have no idea where we are acutely going. Knowing my luck we've probably been sent to Angron's welcome back party on Armageddon. Decided to ask the Hangman again. Got shouted at again.
Day 109
The rest of the regiment has seen the bayonet thing I did. The kitchens are now devoid of large knives and various other things like meat cleavers. Everyone has spent the day fixing knives and pointy objects to their guns. I swear I saw one idiot with a spoon on his gun, I don't think that would do much even if he sharpened it.
Boring! So mind numbingly bored. Going to wander the ship.
Found where they keep the tacks. And the paint.
Painted the Lemon Russ in garish colours with the word 'Pimp mobile' on the side.
Day 110
Wrote on the side of another vehicle 'My Other Ride Is Your Sister!'
Oooooooh, shiny Baneblade. Now has, in bright electric blue, the words 'The Owner Of This Vehicle Is Compensating For His Tiny Weapon'
Dinner was some sort of broth. Didn't taste to bad.
The Engineseer took one look at the tanks and started mumbling about angered machine-spirits.
Decided to ask one of the ships crew where it is we are going. She did not know.
The Hangman found out that I asked where it is we were going. Tried to make an example of me in front of the regiment. Regrettably punching a Space Marine in the jawbone, knuckle duster's or not, is only going to lead to broken knuckles.
Day 111
Commissar woke us all up with the tradition of shouting insults. Why? What could the point possibly be with the shouting?
Found where one shift of the maintenance crew relaxes. Found my pack of cards were still in my pocket. I got beat by everyone.
For dinner I had the Commissar hit me across the face with an electric whip because I have not turned up to any training at all in any way shape or form. Caught the whip on the second attempt and slowly and deliberately tore it in half whilst glaring at him. I think he got the point.
Everyone is staying at a distance from me. They seem to think the Commissar will try and shoot me next.
Crawled under the deck plates to sleep. Not so stupid as to give the Hangman a sleeping target.
Day112
I wonder how the Chapter is doing without me. I miss them all.
Etched my name on the wall in venom. No real reason why.
Went to look at the plasma reactor. Damn that thing's huge.
Dinner was quarn and soup.
I have decided to go and see the navigator today. If anyone on this boat knows where we are going it's hopefully him.
Wandering in the direction that I hope is frontwards and upwards.
Day 113
Still wandering
This ship is really big.
Found the navigator at about dinnertime. Encountered a slight problem. For a member of the Navis Nobilite to navigate the warp they have to be able to see and feel it around them and to do this they have to be in physical (if that word can ever apply) with the warp. Essentially I can see him through a window in the door into a room that is totally unprotected by the geller field. There is some really weird stuff going on in there. There appear to be two sort of squidy looking things arranging the furniture into a sort of triangular shape with 5 right angles in it.
Whoaw! This is fun to watch. I am now looking at a circle where pi is exactly 3 and a square looking thing with 4 sides and 8 corners.
I can also see a shoal of translucent fish dragonfly basking shark looking things fly/swim past.
Day 114
This is begging to get like that time I drank that mug of mercury for a bet.
I wonder how the navi can concentrate on where we are going with all this stuff going on. But he just sits there in the middle of it all like it is normal to him. Maybe they see stuff like this all the time with that third eye of theirs.
I wonder where the geller field actually ends. Because I really hope it stops just that side of the door and not this side of the door because if it stops this side then I have to ask the question 'how far this side?' I now have the feeling that I have just been juggling match in a munitions store.
I am going to back away from the door now, very carefully.
Wandering back to the barracks now.
Day 115
I am seriously wondering what the official classifications of human the Cog-heads use are. Nothing human can survive naked in the warp, but the Navis Nobilite can. Species are in part defined by if they can produce viable offspring with the pure strain of the species in question. Ogyrn and ratlings, to name but a few, are considered human (if sub-human by many) for this fact. The Navis are incapable of this because any child that is born of a union between human and navis lacks all the defining navis features.
Now I am having serious doubts about myself. Astrates can never be fathers, or if we can its never been recorded to happen. We have two hearts three kidneys and three lungs. We are venomous and can hibernate for centuries at a time. We have had so much biological tampering and twisting and altering that maybe the 'human' is just engineered out of us. We are the sworn defenders of humanity, apart but not a part. We are not human, we are Astrates.
Arrived back at the barracks just in time to be shouted at to wake up by the Leach.
Day 116
The Hangman noticed the alterations to the official gear this morning at inspection. Tried to make an example of one of the smaller soldiers (poor sod doesn't even look fifteen yet, and she is soon to die by all probability). Regrettably for the hangman he tried the shotgun method of exemplifying. He seemed quiet surprised at how fast I can move.
I now have a shotgun wound to the gut and the commissars augmented arm as a trophy. He can have it back if he wants to ask for it.
Day 117
Dragged my sleeping mat into the crawl space under the deck plates. If I'm going to sleep in awful conditions I may as well be comfortable doing so.
Arrived at the planet this morning. Well it was morning when we were on the ship, its now dusk here. The air is poisonous and the red sun goes across the sky the wrong way. Our job here is to defend the orbital defence facilities co-ordination relay fortress (its underground, we are defending the door) from traitor marines and the blood pact army, oh joy. Even I feel the bitter chill of the wind here; I pity the humans how cold they must feel.
Satellite surveillance shows the chaos freaks to be moving southward to our position. I saw the pict print out. Many of the blood pact are on bikes.
Strung the cheese wire between two rocks at about neck height. Cheese wire, the bane of the speed freaks.
Day 118
The commissar is going to get us all killed. I am genuinely surprised at his total incompetence. He is so far out of his depth the fish have lights on their heads. He is having us dig a trench and then sit in it and run over the top of the trench just as they attack. I totally agree with the digging a lot of trenches. Anything that can stop those bikes is good. Just not the rest of his suicidal plan.
Dinner today was field rations. This is one thing I do not understand. The Imperium has been the ruler of nearly all human held worlds for the past 10,000 years, give or take a few years, and in all that time a decent tasting field ration has never been invented? I gave all my rations to the nearest trooper. I can go for weeks without food or water if I have to, they should at least have a good last meal.
Can see something on the horizon. A great column of dust and snow and steam.
Voiced my objections to the strategy we are going to use. Got shouted at. Shouted back. He tried to cut my head of with a power sabre. I caved his head in with his own arm I was carrying. I now have a shiny sword.
I am taking charge now. No one objected.
The trenched were abandond and lots of decoys were placed in the trenches. Spare helmets on poles and scarecrows wearing spare clothing and such. More trenches have been dug as an anti-vehicle measure.
Everyone is hiding behind wreckage, rocks and boxes. I personally am hiding under the snow. As soon as these bikers from hell are on top of me I am going to rise out of the middle of them and cut a few down.
Day 119.
They attacked in the dead of night, just after what passes for midnight here. I think they were trying to get the cover of darkness thing going but the southern lights here are very bright. They are pretty to watch.
The light now reflects of red stained ground. Nearly all their blood I hasten to add.
The cheese wire thing worked well, beheaded three cleanly and garrotted one when it snapped.
Got a hole put through the fleshy part of my arm by friendly fire and my nose re-broken when the first bike went over me..
Day120
These were just the scouts, there to spook us and soften us up. The slower artillery and ballistic weapons will be arriving depressingly soon. In total we lost 15 of our number, and while that is still awful and to be mourned, it could have been much worse.
We are now a bit better equipped. No Imperial Guard worth their salt is above doing a yarrick.
Discovered that most of the blood pacts blood red jackets are in fact dyed. I feel slightly disappointed at that.
Everyone is now wearing blood pact flack jackets under there own to keep out the chill and, of course, bullets.
Have had another idea. Me and some of the lads are going to get the bikes that still work, dress up like the traitors and ride at the bikes to them, than start shooting.
I really miss the rest of my company now. If I was with them we would have just painted the armour white got some scanner jammers and crawled up to them and then hit them with something heavy, like their own ripped of leg.
Day 121
We found the artillery early this morning. It was a slaughterhouse before we got there.
Found why. It's only the 1st company of the sodding Lore Guard. Hooray I'm going home!
Cog-Brother Simonium Fisk is one of the marines present. Looks like it was the Iron Warriors who were trying to knock on the door with these lovely big guns of theirs.
Cog-Brother Simonium Fisk is, at this moment in time, stripping all the ornamentation and paint of the traitors armour. We aren't above doing a yarrick either. Besides power armour is expensive.
Shuttle leaves at dusk. I feel glad to be going home.
Day122
The ship we are going on is ours, the Sharp Blade. Taking into account how the ship Unbreakable Shield got broken last century it's also our only ship. It's just about big enough to carry the entire Chapter if we are prepared to share rooms and sleep in the corridors and not take the armour of to save oxygen.
One of the dreads came along. He is in the storage bay. Going to see if he is OK.
Its Dread Strappel AKA The Tin Man, the oldest dread in the entire Chapter. Counting the time he spent with the Raven Guard he is about 8,000ish.
Going to play chess with the dread, you need at least three for a decent game of cards.
Day 123
I am yet to win a game. Who ever he was in life he has lost none of his chess skills in death.
I would never want to be entombed in the sarcophagus of a dread. I love life too much; the sensory deprivation would drive me mad.
Strappel says that being in a dread is like being in that state of mind when you are just waking up and you wish to just stay asleep. Except in battle when it feels like you have just been given caffeine on an I.V. drip.
Asked (probably for the 20,000th time) if he has any idea which of the Legion Astrates we descended from. Got told that he has no idea because he was probably working for the Raven Guard at the time of founding and, and I quote "Ifen you younglings are not wont to be writing down your legacy that's your choice entirely, just don't be crying to me when your history slips away.'
Day 124
Found a Krone Berserker helmet in the storage bay salvaged from the chaos bashing. Decided it would be fun to wake everyone up by sneaking up to them and shouting at the top of my voice 'BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!!!' I swear some of them had a heart attack in on of their hearts.
Got told to repaint The Tin Man in leafy green and brown colour paint.
Strapple says the he use to do the Krone Helmet joke with his battle brothers when he was alive.
Day 125
Finished painting the last leaf on the dread. A proper oak and ash forest pattern. Hey, there is such a thing as a job well done.
Told Cog-Brother Fisk about what happened after I recklessly charged into the web-way. A full report is being written up.
Got billed for the cost of a new sniper rifle, a new bike, and a new power sword. As I am still paying of my debts for the death of the secondary geller field to this ship from last time I was on it (I got pissed and pissed on it) its not really an issue until I actually have some money.
They will probably be surprised to see me when I get back. Apparently the entire chapter, except the 5th, 7th and 9th who were out, had a big party with cake and beer and everyone got legless. A proper funeral.
The comm. system in my helmet is ruined. Have to pay for that as well.
I'm going to play chess with the dread before I have to pay for anything else.
Day 126
Board. Tried playing Snap with The Tin Man. Hand got flattened, repeatedly.
Board, Board, Board, Board, BOARD.
Not even the planet Celery was this bad.
Decided to practice fighting with power claws with the scouts of the 1st company. Got beaten a lot. By The Throne I hate space travel!
Day 127
This is mind numbingly dull.
There must be a Chaos god of dull. I bet this is its doing.
If I had known it was going to be this boring I would have brought a book to read.
Day 128
Hooray, were home. It feels so good to see home again.
Got told of by Chapter Master Sternist for chasing xenos into the web-way. His exact words were 'that the sort of crazy fool thing White Scars do. I would have expected better of one us.'
Checked my room to make sure no one had nicked my stuff. Its just how I left it; a mess.
Apocrathy Dvis says that neophyte Wrothworth Jerrek is going to be given gene-seed that was spawned from Heth who was spawned from Gorret who was spawned from 'no hands' Kallagas who was spawned from Andrew who was spawned from David who was spawned from Salathiel who was spawned from Frnkintus who was spawned from me.
I wonder how many marines in the chapter are descended from me? I wonder how long, given the abnormally slow rate of gene-seed generation, it will take us to have enough to create another chapter? Probably a very long time.
Today's meal was hedge clippings and brown sauce. It was a yew hedge so it was poisonous.
Day 129
The chapter astropath says that Yveld, an informant who lives on the largest moon of the nearest gas giant, Skagii in the orbit of Bragii, has reason to believe that there is a gene-stealer cult.
Yveld is, or rather was, a tech-priest. He is possibly the oldest tech-priest in the universe. He has achieved this worthwhile age by gradually replacing every organic component. This includes the brain. We are unsure of how he did that. He spends all his time hiding from the Adeptus Mechanicus because they found him guilty of dissecting xeno-tech with intent to learn and being of the Courtswainian sect. He builds power armour for us now for the protection we offer. It's a big galaxy, the cog-heads cant see absolutely everywhere.
I dislike gene-stealer cults. The parents of the original members are un-aware of the horror that as been spawned by their tampered genes. Its so sad, because you know that the monster you have to kill was once loved by human parents. I have often been ill after such a burn and purge mission. In truth I do not hate the cult, I pity it the fate I must call down on it. It is the patriarch I hate. A species that perpetuates its self by rape has no excuse to exist.
Me and the scouts of the second company will depart tomorrow, first ship after daylight.
Painting clothing shades of grey and brown. Packing the new fancy camo-cloaks.