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 ground and hung it in my belt, but was then given a
thorough lesson from sarge about martial honor, 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
magazine-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 waystone 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 interiors 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 in fact an antidote to Nurgle’s Rot, and was lifted up by a group of Plague-
marines and carried across the courtyard, being praised and honored by the foul men.
Never before have I drunk and thereby destroyed the nemesis of an entire squad of
marines. (Note: My new nickname 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 possessees, 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 4.0 Went to Chaos sorcerer in hope of finding out which god has gifted me
with the tentacle. After two hours of the sorcerer looking at the arm and taking down notes,
came the following answer: “It is probably either Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle or Slaanesh.” (No
big surprises there)

Day 1, week 2

Went all day fooling around camp. For fun, pretended to be a nutter and was grouped with
the possessed 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 colors on my armor, along with the lads. Only one
of them had actually pledged his soul to Slaanny after the concert, and we helped him paint
ridiculous color-patterns and naughty artwork on his armor.

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 “physically 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 conversation 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 taught 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. Unfortunately 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) 29: 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. Surprisingly, 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 favors 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
plummeted 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
unconscious 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
advancing 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 philosophical nonsense
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 armor was taken off. Then the guv’
tattooed 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
stylized our armor some more. Ixius painted a large I (for Ixius) on his chestplate, although
I’m sure I’ve seen that particular letter displayed 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 necessary 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 beastmen 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 decisive (and only) shot which took down their
stronghold, burying them underneath. Was rewarded a medallion by the guv, which was
ripped from my armor 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). In fact 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 armor of all the company’s plague-
marines, and only when every single piece of armor has passed the white-glove test, will he
be allowed to stop. Not surprisingly, 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 defense
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 launchers!” “Well mine’s got that as well, 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 genii. 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 to 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 surprise 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 straitjacket, 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 necessary 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 committed suicide with a bomb, finally
having had enough of polishing plague-infested armor. 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 armor... 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 armor 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 armor from the Thousand Sons legion. And we quickly discovered
that it was still occupied by it’s original wearer, when the armor 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 practicing 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 realized
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 chosen? 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 everyone 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 stuck 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 Rhengar, 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 with the new cards
(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. Despite 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 armor. 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 definitely 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 auxiliaries. 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 Blood-Drinkers Anonymous.” Found out it
was some kind of Imperial junk-mail sent to the wrong address. 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. Remember 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 found no reason to keep it
standing. Instead, he is planning to erect a Chaos monolith in its 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, dried 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 armor. Used the rest of the afternoon sharing thoughts
about war with the familiar.

Day 5, week 5

Day 6, week 5
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 actually a daemon inside
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 immediately. 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: Remember 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?

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

Day 1, week 6

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 surprisingly, a member of the squad was removed (or at least
his head was). 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 color...”)
Again, couldn’t sleep because of the big day tomorrow.

Day 2, week 6
Surprised to wake up late and find that the fleet hadn’t arrived yet. Everyone was so tense
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. 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 sense, 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. 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 horizon. Everyone was so disappointed that they hadn’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. 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

Last night was the worst night ever! Firstly, there was an incredibly strong stink of corruption
and decay oozing from those damned Plague marines (Okay, I know we’re ALL damned,
LITERALLY, but you get my meaning). And through the night I was awoken several times by
berzerkers crying “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. In the guv’s absence, 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. 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!” 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 your 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. After exiting the dreaded transport ship in an organized fashion (well, not THAT
organized, we’re Chaos after all), we were immediately formed into ranks and addressed by
some bigwig Exalted 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.

“Honorable and not that honorable 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 phony 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!”

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. At the end of a long day, we were split up and sorted into different
companies, so some of our squads were transferred 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 Honor Guard (read: Odor 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. 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

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 accidentally smashed the
fist THROUGH the door and knocked the already-awake brother Furiax back to sleep.) 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 Exalted
Champion Astralax had babbled uninteresting nonsense for what seemed like a few weeks
(time flows differently in the warp), our squad were teleported aboard the fleet’s supply
ship. 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. 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

Landed on the desert-planet early in the morning, to begin practicing on bikes immediately.
The huge open space really gave us all the room we wanted, and we quickly sped off in
different directions. After three hours of practice 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.
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

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 armor. (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
armor 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 undoubtedly been picked straight from the first page of
the book “What a biker doesn’t want to hear”. The sentence “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 daemonic 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 personnel-carriers and
the armored giants of our Land Raiders. We sped across the hellish half-swamp, our colored
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, acknowledging the fact that
my metal steed could carry me no further. I leapt 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 unmistakable 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 sense of martial honor 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

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.
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 honor for the victory, their Warsmith simply
replied: “About time!” 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 favorite 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

Woke up without my armor, lying on my back on the Word Bearers’ Altar of Sacrifice which I
vaguely remember 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 “Lorgar's Hand of Fire”, and returned to our quarters on the Immeasurable
Rage. I received treatment for my wound, and I thoroughly regret my drunken decision 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. 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 disappointed 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 accidentally
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

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.
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. After a few hours of the assault-boats racing
each other round and round the ship, while the turret-operators practiced 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

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:

One-handed mace: Useful for knocking out players without severing limbs or creating
bloody wounds. 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. 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. 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.
Net: As simple as it sounds. For better results, the net can be dipped in tar or glue before a
game. 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 its tail and swinging it around like a flail works too.
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, handfuls of sand, rocks, sticks, and if
nothing else presents itself: bare fists and fingers with sharp nails.

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-armored bastards will
show up in their usual fashion and “save the day.” We jumped aboard a transport and
headed for the Slaaneshi ship. 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
uncomfortable!) 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 nonsense and sighed with
satisfaction, cuddling together in heaps, the cultists caringly polishing the armor of the
marines while they whispered sweet lines of decadence into their ears. The walls were
covered in multicolored graffiti, displaying rude pictures as well as beautiful landscapes
from the most idyllic daemon-worlds. We finally found the officer in charge, a newly
appointed Chaos Lord (or Drug Lord, as the Slaaneshi 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

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.) 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. 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

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 materialized 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! 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 recognize 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.” 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

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. 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 primarchs. 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... 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 reason 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 Slaaneshi 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

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 armor... 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... 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 humorous 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? 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

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, they
couldn’t just CHANGE everything back to how it used to be, cause Nurgle hates change! So
narrow-minded, those gods... After quite a dramatic start to the day (We still can’t find
where the Tzeentchians have put our backpacks!), everything was ready for the annual
Daemon Festival! With the combined effort of several Sorcerers, a small warp-gate was
opened right inside the hangar of our ship, and daemons poured forth from the depths of
the Realm of Chaos. All kinds of games and activities were organized by a Daemon Prince,
and we all had a hell of a time. Brother Furiax and I competed in a game of “Squash the
Nurgling”, where the aim of the game is to squeeze the biggest amount of pus and slime
out of a Nurgling. Even though Furiax’s nurgling was twice as bloated as mine, I easily won
thanks to my tentacle-arm, which I wrapped round the little sucker and squeezed until every
drop of slime was in the measuring-bucket. (Afterwards, I made a hat out of the empty
Nurgling, which I gave to Furiax.) Later, we went to watch Sarge try a round of “Jugger-
riding”, which is as simple as it sounds. It’s a rodeo-style game, except in this case your goal
isn’t simply to stay on the creature’s back, but also to stay alive. Anyway, Sarge lasted for ten
seconds, which was the new record, and so his life was spared. I really wanted to try out my
skills at “Disc-surfing”, but one had to be a member of the Cult of Tzeentch in order to
participate. So instead I went to arm-wrestle a Horror, followed by a trip over to the
Fleshound-racing, where I won ten quid on Hound number 8. Then we watched an intense
duel between Sarge and a Bloodletter. Sarge was just about to have his head chopped off
when the Bloodletter was suddenly needed for a large Daemon-battle in the Realm of
Chaos, and had to leave at once. Finally, I went and had a go at the always-popular game
“Spank the Daemonette”. The fun ended when the warp-gate closed (those damned
Sorcerers, can’t even hold a warp gate open for a day without dying of mind-boiling!) and
all the daemons returned to the warp.

Day 2, week 8

As always on the day after the Daemon Festival, the annual Chaos-awards were dished out.
The first prize for “Most entertaining individual” went to Khornate Lord Xenofexius, for his
stunning skill and ferocity with his one-handed great-axe. He was quoted saying “I like to
make an entrance, also into the fray!” and also “Blood for the Blood God!” Second prize
went to Hasmodion, Sorcerer Lord of Tzeentch, for his spectacular pre-battle pyrotechnics-
performances. Third place was awarded to the Slaaneshi Daemonette who used her belly-
dancing/butt-shaking performance to spellbind an entire Imperial Guard regiment, before a
force of Iron Hands landed on the planet. They weren’t quite as impressed. Although the
daemonette was banished back to the warp, rumors say she can return to the mortal realm
whenever, wherever... Other awards were: Most entertaining legion: Emperor’s Children
(War, drugs and musical entertainment together in one) Most boring legion: Iron Warriors
(Trenches and ranged warfare, anyone?) Least read book: “Whistle while you work”, a
documentary on the psychological effects of long-term trench-digging, by Warsmith
Potassius. Most entertaining battle: Death Guard vs Space Wolves on Vindobona III. The
Plague marines carried rabies... Second most entertaining battle: Night Lords vs Iron Hands
on Kretius V. The Night Lords triggered an electromagnetic pulse, which rendered every
cybernetic limb on the battlefield useless. Night Lords casualties 0%, Iron Hands casualties
100%. Most sought-after item (for the 10000th year in a row, apparently): The other Talon of
Horus Biggest TV-event: Servitor-paralympics on Mars Most “FUBAR” individual: Brother
Arzhar of squad Dharkos (Yay, I know a celebrity!) Most frequently used last words: “I die for
the dark gods!”, “I return to the Eye!”, “Avenge me!,” and of course “I promise it won’t
happen again, Abaddon!”

Day 3, week 8
Heard from some marines from the 1st company that Abaddon does combat-drugs. Some
role model... He’ll probably end up dead in a bath-tub like they all do... Our old guv,
Estragor, has been to the Realm of Chaos and seen his own death! This is usually a great
honor and advantage for any Chaos Lord, but not when he witnesses his own demise is at
the hand of a lucky gretchin sniper, something which pissed him off a tad. So, apart from
keeping clear of all greenskin activity, Estragor is now charging suicidally into battle all the
time, with nothing to fear as long as there are no orkoids present. Later, our squad gathered
to dicuss why the warp we aren’t seeing any action. We joined the Black Crusade expecting
to get some fighting and bloodletting done, but so far our only real mission was that
hopeless bike-attack ages ago. Soon we decided that we’re going to go out and find
ourselves a mission of our own, since none of the superiors seem to bother about assigning
any tasks to us. But only one squad isn’t gonna win much by itself, so before we do anything
drastic we’re gonna try to see whether any other squads or individuals are willing to join us.
The rest of the day we all spread out and searched throughout the fleet for squads willing to
join us, while Sarge stayed in our quarters, trying to figure out a mission. I talked to brother
Arzhar for a while, and soon I managed to convince him to come with us. I told him and his
possessed friends that I would give them further notice when we’ve found out more. Late in
the evening, we all gathered together to share information. Apart from me having
“recruited” squad Dharkos (the possessed), it turned out that several other squads or
members of squads were willing to join us. The entire squad Rhazior and squad Zerus had
no hesitation in teaming up with us. Sarge had spoken with a Champion of Khorne,
Mhorkorus, who was also easily lead by the promise of more blood and skulls. He and the
remnants of squad his squad are also with us. Brother Furiax had established
understandings with a small group of Raptors who were the only Raptors not allowed to
join the 1st Company, for unknown reasons. And last but not least, the warsmith of the Iron
Warriors 11th Grand Company has surprisingly enough agreed to lend us some of his
precious warriors. It didn’t take much talking before he did, in fact, he almost INSISTED that
his warriors should join us for this mission. We’re expecting them to bring along some
heavy weapons. The warsmith also offered to get hold of some ships for us to use. Finally,
Sarge told us the plan. The day after tomorrow, we’ll rally our allies, board the ships
provided by the warsmith, and head for the Ulixus system, where we shall attack a small
asteroid-base containing some “information useful to the imperium but of no interest to
us”, as Sarge put it. Finally some action!!

Day 4, week 8

Today, Sarge informed us that the warsmith has already gotten hold of some ships for us.
They are Black Legion ships, and the warsmith has registered their use in Sarge’s name, so
he’s got responsibility for them. Very reassuring. But also, Sarge has been promoted to
lieutenant, not because he has excelled in the service of Chaos, but because he’s been
around for ages. We’ll still call him Sarge, though. Our crusade is falling apart! Yesterday, an
entire squad of the 3rd Company died from something called Black Legionnaire’s Disease.
And a few days ago, a squad of over-fanatical Word Bearers performed a ritual mass-suicide
to honour the dark gods. The day before that, half a squad of Iron Warriors and hundreds of
servitors died of exhaustion during the digging of a particularly long trench (their
commander had grand plans of creating a battle-line spanning an entire planet.) And I’ve
still not mentioned the force of Emperor’s Children who got stuck in the warp without
having packed any drugs, and all died of abstinence. Well, all except for one of them who
happened to be a necrophiliac, and who had the time of his life. And of course, the number
of Plague Marines is constantly decreasing, since they have an uncanny ability to drown in
their own slime and pus when sleeping. Tomorrow, we go into action for the first time in
ages. Everything is ready for our departure. The ships are waiting in the hangar-bay, the
other squads are standing by, the Iron Warriors are ready, everything is set.

Day 5, week 8

Warsmith Hasmodius studied the many radars, screens and small lights on the control panel
in front of him. But more importantly, his ears were keenly listening for a crucial message
which should be arriving through the speaker any moment. My men can be trusted, he tried
to convince himself, as he turned to face the two hideous servitors standing behind him,
their eyes expressionless, their cybernetic limbs motionless. The intense sound of their
mechanic lungs breathing was the only sign that the two figures were alive at all. Hasmodius
looked at one of them, and with a deep booming voice he gave a command. “Make sure my
shuttle is ready. Have my veterans board their transport ship.” With series of clicks and
beeps from within it’s chest and head, the servitor turned around robotically and left the
room, his every footstep creating a sharp clank against the hard floor, as he wobbled
through the door and down the corridor.

Brother-sergeant Zerus broke the silence in the small, dark room. “Why hasn’t our warp-
jump commenced yet?” Unanswered by his black armoured comrades who sat all around,
the eight foot superhuman warrior tried to get up, but the seatbelts held him firmly in his
place. Frustrated and annoyed, he switched on the comm-link in his helmet. “Captain, this is
Squad Zerus. What’s keeping us from entering warpspace? And tell me again why we’re
stuck in these seats, will you?” There was a pause. Zerus sat silently awaiting an answer, but
there was no reply. Only seconds had passed before he lost his patience, and spoke into the
comm-link once more. “I repeat, this is Squad Zerus. What are we waiting for? Let’s get
some action, shall we?” No sooner had Zerus finished his sentence before the door to the
room opened vertically, revealing two power-armoured silhoutettes standing just outside.
The two Chaos Space Marines strode in through the door, their silver armour reflecting the
light from the corridor outside. Both marines held flamers. “If you insist.” said one of them
coldly, before they both opened fire with their weapons.

Several minutes had passed before Warsmith Hasmodius received the message he was
waiting for. “Warsmith Hasmodius, Squad Zerus and squad Mhorkorus have been taken care
of. My men are dealing with squads Rhazior and Dharkos as we speak. We’re ready to open
fire at the “Immeasurable Rage” at your signal, my lord.” A pleasuring wave of relief rushed
through the Warsmith’s tense body. He had put his trust in lieutenant Kragh, and the he had
not failed to deliver. Barely controlling his fiendish excitement, Hasmodius held down a
button on the control-panel, and spoke. “Excellent, lieutenant Kragh. But what of Sargoth
and his squad?” “I will deal with them personally, my lord.” came the answer from the
speaker, and the Chaos Lord eagerly replied once more. “Outstanding, lieutenant. I knew I
could rely on you and your men. I’ll see to it personally that you will be rewarded for you
efforts. Hold your fire for a few more minutes. I will be among you shortly. Hasmodius out.”
With this, he turned to face the servitor by the door. “Is my shuttle ready?” With a
monotone and soulless voice, the servitor answered. “Yes, warsmith. Shuttle standing by for
departure. Transports loaded and standing by for departure. Assault-boats armed and
standing by for departure.” Before exiting the room, Hasmodius reached for his pistol, and
aimed at the control panel. One blast made sure that no records of the previous
conversation would ever be heard by anyone, at least not until it was too late. Another,
more whimsical shot put an end to the servitor’s miserable existence. Laughing cruelly, the
Iron Warrior left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Lieutenant Kragh walked up to the massive door and peered through the screen, seeing the
Black Legion marines stuck in their seats inside. There sat their sergeant, Sargoth, in the seat
right inside the door. Kragh switched on the small mircophone by the door, and spoke to
the marines inside through a speaker in the top corner of the room. “This is lieutenant Kragh
of the Iron Warriors. You’ve probably understood by now that things aren’t going exactly
according to plan. That’s because warsmith Hasmodius has other plans, plans which you will
not be alive to witness.” Kragh smiled to himself at the thought of what was to come. “But I
can reveal to you what is going to happen shortly after your demise. In only a few minutes,
every ship in our possession will open fire on the ship “Everlasting Fury” and of course your
own “Immeasurable Rage”. Kragh paused for a while to let the news sink in amongst the
trapped Black Legionaries. Looking through the small window, he saw the dark-armoured
remain quite still. Had they heard him? Kragh continued: “I wonder how Lord Astralax and
more importantly Lord Abaddon will react when their trusted servants Sargoth, Mhorkorus,
Rhazior, and Zerus suddenly open fire on their own fleet?” Looking at the screen, Kragh
noticed that the marines inside still seemed strangely calm. Not even one was trying to
break free from his seat. Have the usually so hateful sons of Horus chosen simply to accept
such a fate? Fighting his urge to open the door and find out, the Iron Warrior veteran spoke
again through the microphone. “It was in fact YOU who triggered this event. Had it not been
for your foolish men, Sargoth, then we would never have learnt of how Horus used our
primarch Perturabo to fight his worst battles for him, throwing his honourable warriors into
the jaws of death whenever he had the opportunity. For this, you, Horus’s own sons, will
pay!” The Iron Warrior spoke with a hate-filled voice, grinding his teeth together as he
thought of those dark days of the distant path, the days before the Iron Warriors legion had
finally broken free from the rule of the false emperor. “Today starts our vengeance against
Abaddon and his Black Legion! And when this news reaches Perturabo, sitting atop his iron
throne in the towers of Medrengard, no Son of Horus will escape our wrath! And you can do
nothing to prevent it!” Kragh laughed through the microphone as he loaded his bolt pistol.
Just before opening the door, he heard the sound which he had been waiting for. The sound
of the ship’s cannons opening fire. And he knew the black marines heard it also. Sargoth’s
fate was now sealed. The Black Legion fleet knew nothing of Hasmodius’s activities, and
lieutenant Sargoth was responsible for every shot being fired. The Iron Warrior pushed the
door-button. He loaded his pistol and took a step forward. “And now, Sargoth, you will be
the first to feel our wrath.” Kragh hadn’t noticed the two empty seats inside.

Warsmith Hasmodius watched the constant hail of laser-blasts impact on the unshielded
hull of the “Immeasurable Rage.” Not prepared for such an unsuspected assault, the
gigantic Black Legion ship was defenceless against the relentless fire. Explosions blossomed
all over the colossal behemoth of a spaceship, as a radio-message arrived on the bridge of
the ship where Hasmodius stood. “Lieutenant Sargoth, do you read me? This is Lord
Commander Astralax of the “Immeasurable Rage”. Cease your fire immediatly!” A broad and
evil smile covered the Iron Warrior warsmith’s face as he listened to the frustrated voice of
the Black Legion lord. If only he knew what was really going on. “Repeat: Lieutentant
Sargoth, do you read me? Cease your fire immediatly, or you will be fired upon!” Looking
across the short distance in space, Hasmodius saw several squadrons of Swiftdeath fighters
exiting the hangar-bay of the Immeasurable, to defend their crippled starship. “Their
fighters have been launched. Make sure the the anti-fighter turrets are fully manned and
operational, and get our shields up.” At the warsmith’s command, the crewmen and
servitors on the bridge hastily rushed from one control panel to another. “And cease fire at
the “Everlasting Fury”, and instead concentrate all fire on the “Immeasurable”. I want that
ship destroyed before we enter the warp!” Seconds later, the radio-link sounded once more.
This time, the voice was a hate-fuelled roar. “This is Lord Commander Xenofexius of the
“Everlasting Fury”! You have opened fire on my personal ship, and such an action will not go
unpunished! Prepare to face the wrath of Khorne!” Xenofexius? What could he possibly do,
wondered Hasmodius. From intercepting several transmissions, Hasmodius knew that the
Khornate lord’s ship held no fighters and had virtually no operational turrets. Hoping that
he had not overseen any flaws in his plan, the Iron Warrior looked anxiously across the
control-panel, checking the radar for signs of any unwelcome visitors.

With a loud bang, Lieutenant Kragh was slammed into the wall with such force that his left
shoulderplate almost splintered. He fell to the floor, but although his helmeted head was
knocked hard against the solid metal surface, the Iron Warrior tried desperately to reach his
bolt pistol which he had dropped to the floor. But he reacted far too slow. The next second,
a huge and heavy armoured boot landed heavily on his stomach, making the Chaos Marine
loose his breath. The boot thumped down again and again, and before Kragh had time to
roll over, a sword was mercilessly stabbed into his torso from above. The blade found it’s
way between two armour-plates, while a slimy tentacle slithered around the Iron Warrior’s
throat like a serpent, strangling him. “Get to the bridge and cease that fire imediatly!”
shouted Lieutenant Sargoth with a strong, dark voice as he was cut loose from his seat by
brother Fermicus. “Ghaurion, Furiax, leave him!” At their leader’s command, the bloodthirsty
and enraged Chaos marines halted their efforts, Ghaurion’s tentacle arm loosening it’s grip,
Furiax’s sword left buried in the Iron Warrior’s bloody chest. Sargoth looked at the wounded
marine wreathing on the floor, too weak to pull the deeply-stabbed sword from his torso.
He soon stopped moving. Sargoth spat at the dying figure before exiting the room behind
his comrades. Before he set off down the corridor, Sargoth gave another order: “Brother
Fermicus and brother Xathras, attempt to locate squads Rhazior and Zerus! Rendezvous-
point in the hangar-bay after we’ve taken care of the Iron Warriors.”

Hasmodius spoke into the radio, giving orders to his men aboard the other ships. “Prepare
to enter warpspace as soon as the Immeasurable has been destroyed. And be on the
lookout for...” He was suddenly interrupted by lieutenant Appolonus’s loud voice coming
through the radio, accompanied by the sound of gunshots and screaming in the
background. “Warsmith, Lord Xenofexius and several squads of World Eaters have boarded
our ship!! They’ve disabled our warp-drives, and might be attempting to...” A mighty boom
was the last sound to be heard from the radio, silencing Appolonus before he had
completed his last sentence. And before Hasmodius could reply, the floor beneath him
shook as the Black Legion Swiftdeath-squadrons opened fire on his ship. Three fighters
roared past just outside the bridge, firing a salvo of shots which made the entire ship shake
once more. As Hasmodius staggered across the floor looking for something to hold on to, a
weak and wounded-sounding voice sounded in his helmet comm-link. “My Lord, a squad
of ...of Black Legionaires have ... escaped and are rampaging through the ship... They.. they
caught us off g-guard, and have ... released... ...” For the first time for centuries, the veteran
Chaos Space Marine lord felt mortal fear. Now there were no mine-fields or trench-lines
between him and the enemy, no crippling artillery fire, no devastating Predators or Land
Raiders. But desperately trying to retain his calmness, he spoke through his comm-link
again. “All men on the alert! Black Legionaires have escaped their cells! All marines to their
posts!” Then Hasmodius switched off his comm-link and turned to the bridge-crew. “Close
the blast-doors throughout the ship, and activate the internal corridor-turrets. Make sure no
man reaches the bridge alive.” The ship shook again, pounded by fire from Black Legion
fighters and starships alike, and soon the shields would not be able to deflect the incoming
fire any more. Looking over at the near-destroyed Immeasurable Rage, large pieces of
debris floating about in space around it, Warsmith Hasmodius made up his mind. “Initiate
the jump to warp-space, and notify the other ships of our departure. Set the course for the
Medrengard system. We cannot afford to stay here any longer.”

As the thick blast doors to the bridge closed with a hissing sound, but just as the Iron
Warrior commander finally felt that the situation was under control, a cluster of unidentified
ships suddenly appeared on the radar. And looking out into space in the direction the radar
had pointed out, Hasmodius saw that a group of gleaming white ships had appeared in the
distance. Imperial ships. They couldn’t have timed their arrival better, thought Hasmodius
angrily. Firstly, destroying the Immeasurable Rage had taken much longer time than he had
predicted, and now this.

Then suddenly there was a deafening bang followed by the screeching sound of metal
being torn, and the startled Warsmith turned to see a large hole in the thick blast doors.
Now standing inside the room was the most hideous of creatures, a terrible mutated beast
twice the size of a man, tentacles and claws sprouting from every part of it’s body.
Hasmodius couldn’t even make out it’s face, let alone produce his trusted bolter, before the
hell-spawned thing charged at him. It’s numerous long limbs batted aside the Iron Warrior’s
arms which he had haplessly raised to protect himself. The weight of the creature smashed
Hasmodius to the floor, and a gigantic crab’s claw closed around his neck. The doomed
warsmith screamed with pain as he felt his body crushed by the weight of the beast, and his
legs and torso being pierced by long, razor-sharp scythes. Then the strong claw around his
neck snapped shut. His severed head rolled across the floor, and stopped at the feet of a
black armoured Chaos marine who also had entered the room. “In the name of Horus, cease
that fire immediatly!!” shouted lieutenant Sargoth loudly, pointing his boltgun at the
frightened crewmen and servitors standing by the control-panels. They were quick to react,
hastily pushing buttons, pulling levers and adjusting switches. As soon as the sound of the
ship’s fire had come to an end, Sargoth pulled the trigger of his bolter, his merciless fire
cutting down every single crewman and servitor on the bridge. Brothers Ghaurion and
Furiax entered the room through the hole in the blast doors. Sargoth acknowledged their
prescence, before walking over to the control panel. The entire ship shook, and the marines
barely managed to stay on their feet. His eyes panning the control-panel, Sargoth spoke to
his marines. “I have to contact Lord Astralax and explain the situation. The Iron Warriors
have tried to destroy Black Legion ships, and framing our squad for doing it.” He turned and
looked with disgust at the foul Chaos Spawn, lying on top of the dead warsmith’s body,
gnawing a severed arm. Blood was everywhere. “Take Arzhar and go to the hangar bay,
where squads Zerus and Rhazior should be waiting. Board the transports which have warp-
drives and enter warpspace. Astralax may not be convinced that Warsmith Hasmodius
framed us, so we’ll take no chances. Staying here might get us all killed.” Ghaurion spoke.
“But lieutenant, what of yourself?” Sargoth stood silent for a moment, then answered. “I will
stay to pay the price for our failure. If it is the will of the gods, then we shall meet again. Go
now, while you still have the chance.” With this, the marines coldly obeyed their leader’s
orders and left the room, dragging the hideous monster with them through the hole. As the
marines made their way to the hangar-bay of the ship, several squadrons of Space Marine
fighters closed in on the Black Legion fleet.

“Divine Servant, this is Captain Lyonis of Gauntlet Squadron. A number of fleeing traitor
transport-ships are initiating their warp-drives. We’re moving to intercept.” The space
marine calmly twisted his flight-stick to avoid a large piece of debris floating through space.
With the speed of lightning, his squadron of ATTACK CRAFT sped through space towards
the transports, their cannons opening fire as soon as they came within range. The few
answering turrets mounted on the transports were quickly blasted out of action, and the
defenceless ships could do nothing as they were singled out and destroyed one by one by
the ruthless and efficient White Consuls. “Gauntlet leader, the last transport is avoiding the
Emperor’s wrath. Make sure it does not escape, Captain.” Captain Lyonis looked at his flight-
radar, and watched the last blinking red spot disappear from the screen. Too late. Lyonis
had been trusted to inflict the Emperor’s vengeance upon each one of the traitors, but had
failed to deliver. Now only the divine Emperor could forgive him.

....(Much later)...

“Attention unidentified Chaos transport, this is the battle-cruiser Rotblade of the Death
Guard. I command you to respond, in the name of Nurgle!” Ghaurion dragged himself to his
feet, and walked slowly over to the communication-systems. Finally someone had received
his distress-calls. This was his last and only chance. For how long his transport had drifted
through space, he did not know. Months, years, decades perhaps. He had no idea how long
it had been since brother Furiax and Arzhar the Chaos Spawn had died. Since then, he had
been all alone. All the servitors and crewmen had been killed during the first days, the
Chaos Marines having fed on their warm flesh since there was no other food available.
Gharion was no navigator or fleet officer. The Chaos Marine had barely managed to stay
alive aboard his transport, let alone guide it through the sea of stars. Looking over at the
large grey battle-cruiser which had newly entered the system, Ghaurion felt his supernatural
body struggle to stay on it’s feet as he switched on the comm-link. “Calling Rotblade. This is
Brother Ghaurion .. of the ... Black Legion. My...“ Ghaurion’s vision darknened. He heard his
own voice fade, and suddenly felt extremely weak and weary. For so long his body had tried
to stay alive, for so long had the Black Legionnaire clung to life as it slowly slipped through
his fingers. Now his time had come, and Ghaurion felt it. He felt the very Immaterum surge
into him, through him, pulling his damned soul from it’s mortal body and into an eternal
black depth. Twisted faces appeared before his eyes, screaming and gibbering voices
echoed inside his head. Daemons of the warp. They were his masters now. Serving Chaos is
a gamble that every mortal is destined to lose, how had he not realised this? But amongst
the low mumbling, loud, insane laughter and nightmarish screeches, Ghaurion heard
another voice. A different voice, coming from the mortal realm, from the communications
radio. And although it seemed distant, he heard every word.

“Ghaurion...? Doom-drinker, is that you?”