CSM Tagebuch

das tagebuch ist sau komisch! :D....ich kenns zwar schon aber egal....

zum thema fortsetzung:

ist zwar das Tagebuch eines Chaoskriegers (warhammer fantasy) aber trotzdem lustig:

(beachtet den Warpsturm )

Diary of a Chaos Warrior

Day 1, Week 1
Well, I’ve finally gotten round flaying enough Kislevites to make a worthwhile amount of writing material. Suppose I ought to be writing something in this then.

Day 2, Week 1
Just heard from the boss that Archaon has successfully managed to get all 6 of those magical treasures he was after. Apparently the Gods have given him some big title, and he’s declared an invasion. I was starting to get a bit bored with dried Kislevite anyway.

Day 5, Week 1
Nothing much to write. The warband has been treking across the Wastes to where everyone is gathering. Unfortunately we have hit a stretch of the wastes with a sense of humour, and have been travelling in circles for the last 2 days. We know we’re travelling in circles cos we can see ourselves ahead. And behind for that matter.

Day 5, Week 1
The boss is getting a bit short tempered. He just decapitated Ulf when he asked if that rock outcropping looked familiar. It was handy though, as I was running short of blood to write with.

Ulf is still alive, we’re all surprised to see. It seems he spontaneous mutated his head into his chest, so losing the head from his shoulders was a bit of a flesh wound. Currently he’s wandering around screaming that he’s gone blind. Wondering if I ought to put holes in his chest armour, or just enjoy the show?

Day 7, Week 1
Encountered a warp storm earlier, that according to Tim (our sorcerer) has moved us into the future. Or we’ve lost time. He claims the spirits have told him this. I think the only spirits he has been dealing with are the dwarf kind (XXXXXX).

Day 6, Week 1
Damned warp storm.

Day 3, Week 1
Damned warp storm.

Day 6, Week 1
Damned warp storm. Whoa .. deva vu.

Day 8, Week 1
Tim still maintaining that time moves differently in the Wastes. Still wandering in circles, now through time as well as space.

Day 9, Week 1
Tim performed a ceremony to implore the help of whichever power would listen, pledging his eternal service if only the warp storm would lift and we could escape this section of the wastes. Just then the storm lifted, and we could see a massive camp ahead, with Archaons banners flying overhead.

Tim got struck by lightning. According to Bjorn (who was hanging round him, trying to find out how to summon deamonettes again), Tim had completed the ceremony, the storm lifted and Tim had immediately said “Oh well, thanks anyway.”

The boss found this most amusing, and told Bjorn he’s now our sorcerer. The boss has gone off to find where all the other Champions are, and Bjorn has “Summoning for Dummies”. I don’t think he is taking this seriously, as I caught him earlier colouring in the woodcuts of the deamons.

wenn interesse besteht hätte ich auch noch das Tagebuch eines Imp. Soldaten (40k) auf lager

Immer her damit. Is goil zum lesen^^

nach vielseitigem wunsch *gg hier was neues:

Das Tagebuch eines Space Marines:

Dad had gave me this Journal so I could record my time as a Space Marine - for today I was to join those Elite Legions, and become a Brother-Marine of the mighty Imperial Bandits! The first thing I did was write on the inside cover:

The JOURNAL of an IMPERIAL SPACE MARINE.

I then had a brainwave and wrote out the initials in huge letters on the cover, it looked well cool but then Dad saw it and for no reason I could ascertain, clouted me a sore one round the ear and made me rub it off and change it to:

The DIARY of an IMPERIAL SPACE MARINE.

I don’t know, but maybe I prefer "DISM". I made the D into a big smiley using a colon. It looks well cool now. Underneath it I wrote: "A journal of my progress through the echelons of command until eventual leadership of the Imperial Bandits Chapter." I toyed with the idea of adding a few exclamation marks, but finally decided it was best to keep it strictly factual. It's not a wild claim, merely a statement of fact.

***

It was time to leave for the spaceport before I knew it... Mom and my younger siblings wept enough for everyone - the usual stuff really. All the while mom fussed over my last minute packing and whether or not I would be too homesick to last. Dad was cool, he told me that the Emperor would provide everything I needed and that I wouldn’t have time to be homesick and besides, the Orbital-Collegiums weren’t in too eccentric an orbit and I should be able to see the home hive from orbit. Thankfully, it was soon over, and with a final wave I was away.

I was taken to the space port by Auntie Mavis, it was supposed to be uncle Festerous, but as Auntie Mavis informed me; "Your Uncle Festerous is sorry he can’t come, but he was bitten on the groin by a Backdoor Biter..." Dear Emperor! To say I was disappointed was an understatement, his excuse was pathetic - that was no reason to stay away, not when it had such importance attached! "Meh..." Auntie Mavis added by way of explanation.

He’d only been bitten by a Backdoor Funnel web spider - and it was just one of the teeny little ones (a dearemperorwhatinhades isthaticus in Prime Gothic), not one of the really big ones that extend beyond the average half-meter size to grow to up to four or even five metres across (the sweetemperorsmotherwhatthefeck isthaticus).

Uncle Festerous had once been in the Space Marines (an Adeptus Janitorii) so it would have added loads of kudos to turn up with him - people would see that I come from a great long line of Space Marines. ‘Command is in the blood!’ They would all think. Auntie Mavis tried, bless her little cotton socks, but she just couldn’t pull it off like Uncle Festerous could have. "Try to make it look like you were once a Battle-Sister!" I desperately begged. She did manage to look all stony and Battle-sisterish but ruined the entire effect as she bizarrely just kept saying "Meh...", sometimes she fired three or four out in rapid succession. Perhaps she was worried about uncle Festerous.

I tried to introduce Battle-Sister-Auntie Mavis to everyone but all too soon, it was time to go. I piled aboard the transport shuttle with the rest of the recruits - next stop the Imperial Bandits Chapter Fortress!

***

There is a yearly intake of 100 aspirants, plucked from the various Hives of Planet Backdoor, chosen because of their superior abilities, intellect, verve, spirit, and non-rejection of the gene-seed implant which we get before we leave. That, and we did well in the special Worthiness Test which we got at school, a 500 word essay on why we think we are worthy of becoming a member of the Imperial Bandits - I photo-copied my best friend Bob’s essay and added at the end that I would have great potential to become the Brother-Captain one day because of my superior skills. Here I was showing great leadership qualities of delegation (getting Bob to do my essay) and general leadership (by getting the best out of the men at my command and selecting the best person for the job in hand - i.e. bob was better at writing than me so I got him to do it). It seemed to impress them because I was chosen - along with Bob.

The flight was due to last four hours, there was a pair of stewards to keep us calm but 100 over-excited kids together is a recipe for disaster. The stewards did their best, but as I mentioned, we were the cream of planet Backdoors next generation so it was a matter of time before we figured out how to undo the restraints.

We entertained ourselves with a game of murderball. Because of the nature of murderball the stewards did their utmost best to get hold of the ball (which is generally made of solid iron and about the size of a hand-grenade). Each game of murderball usually results in one or two casualties among the spectators and players as well as collateral damage to the stadiums, which generally have to be re-built from scratch after each game. Nobody had brought a murderball along with them but I broke into a locker marked ‘DO NOT OPEN! and found a pineapple-like substitute that seemed the right size and weight. Both stewards joined in the fun by chasing us around the cabin screaming "For Emperor’s sake! Stop playing murderball in a shuttle you’ll kill us all!" and later on it changed to the slightly higher pitched; "dearfeckingemperorsmother - that’s a melta-bomb you stupid fecking feckers!!!"

Eventually though, they got hold of our ‘ball’ and put an end to our fun. It must have been too much for one of them as he lay in the corner clutching the 'ball' weeping quietly, the other was absolutely raging and took it out on me because I happened to be nearest; "You’re the wee fecker who wrote; ‘COS I GOT LEET SKILLZ- I WILL PWN U!!!’ aren’t you?! Well be thankful you survived the gene-seed you wee fecker, else you wouldn’t be here!"

Cool, I must have impressed with my essay, especially if even the stewards know about it! But I have no idea what he was getting at - of course I wouldn’t be here if the geneseed hadn’t taken hold! Numpty.

Oh yeah, must find out what a ‘wee fecker’ actually is.

Just at that moment though, a Brother-Pilot appeared offering us the chance to come up and see the cockpit in little groups of ten, I was in the last group and I thought the Brother-Pilots looked a little frazzled and they were in a testy mood. "Don’t touch that!" and "Leave that alone!" was all they seemed to say. When I’m a Brother-Captain I will make sure that all my Brother-Pilots are polite and tip-top smart!

I was loudly telling one of the Brother-Pilots about my Space Marine Uncle Festerous and how he never came to see me off (subtle eh?) and he told me to quit whining, when he was my age it was still fatal to get a bite like that! Wow! Bob then loudly whispered that he must have been a boy in the dark ages and the Brother-Pilot said that he’d heard that and that it wasn’t funny. We all thought it was really funny and we laughed and laughed but the Brother-Pilot got really quite incredibly angry and screamed at us all to get out, adding only; "Ferfeckssake! Stop playing with the self-destruct controls you fecking morons!!"

Before we knew it, we were there, the Imperial Bandits Chapter Orbital-Collegiums of further education, heretic slaughter and hotel management. Quite a short trip really, it was as close as dad said, and now, even though I’m in orbit, I pass over the home hive - well, pretty much all the time so I’m not in the slightest homesick!

Career Notes:

Still not squad leader, but not even in a squad yet so I’m not taking it too badly

Gibts das auch auf deutsch? Das ganze in Englisch zu lesen ist ziemlisch anstrengend.

jaja ziemlich anstrengend! *g

ne, leider nicht....gibts nur in englisch (ich kenns mal nur auf englisch)