Transcripts

+++The following are transcripts of selected verbal recordings made by Lord General Preone Commode. These were made according to his whims and were never organized. A loose chronology has been assembled from the present materials.+++

Entry 1

Confessor Highmaunt is boring.

Bla, bla, bla, bla. Remember to say your prayers, remember your sacred duty, in the evening remember to put aside an hour for the contemplation of thy deeds and all that. As if I have the time! I am leading an intensive campaign here on Parle, not the common sub-sector name but the world. The perfidious and effeminate Eldar are conducting their devious plots on this world and I will not tolerate it!

My adjutant is boring too. He lays around and does that paperwork nonsense. He talks about supply lines, being on good terms with the other Adepts, bla, bla, bla...and he has no sense of humor. He did not laugh at my joke about the starving guardsmen and the Primer salad.

Anyway, my work here has been pretty time consuming but now it is time for my final stroke! Intelligence told me where they are so I am sending my regiments to that location. To think, people always tell me how difficult it must be to be in charge. It really isn’t that difficult.

<A shuffling noise, a tentative voice.>

The Feast of St. Gelmius is coming up, a local figure, and apparently...I can’t eat meat.

<The voice again.>

I don’t think so!

<Voice is plaintive.>

Fine! Now leave me to my work!

<Footsteps retreating.>

To make matters worse a worship service will be interrupting my work this evening. Ugh! Those are boring.

<Ends.>

Entry 2

Yesterday was the worst day of my life! My regiments went to the Eldar’s location but...they weren’t there! Again! It makes no sense. I read all the tactical manuals front to back, but they weren’t there. Consternation consumed me! Oh well, I tried to ease my nerves through various amusements.

I am always down for a good cake and if history has proven anything, I mean anything at all, it is that the juiciest fruits of labor are borne from desperation and hardship. So I grabbed a company from a penal battalion and divided them into two groups. The first group was led by Krazy Kris (The Nightmare Man) and the second was led by Notetaker, no, Nosetaker. I gave each group certain ingredients and cooking utensils and ordered each to bake me a cake. I promised that the first group to bake me a cake would be pardoned of their crimes. But there was a catch, each group did not have the necessary ingredients, in order to bake a cake they would have to put aside their differences and work together! In doing so they would redeem themselves, another example of my genius!

While that was going on, I also decided that I needed a companion. My adjutant is a bore, always ogling at orbital picts and sitting around. Highmaunt is...dry, he’s no sister. Now that’s a woman I’d like to have on my staff! One of those that really, really, enjoys the burnings and after that I would lead her...But I digress, I wanted an animal companion, a dog. It is well known that it is the quiet ones who are the most capable, so I sent my adjutant to the 76th with a message that I needed them to fetch a stray.

They are a peculiar strain of guardsmen, the 76th, their emotional range seemingly consists of stoic indifference and irritability. Ornery ones they are, and they don’t really get along with others either...but they don’t talk back like some of those other colonels, that's all that matters!

Anyway, I got Highmaunt in my office and told him I wanted a member of the Adepta Sororitas on my staff. He gave me the records of several that he knew personally.

“Sister Lustica is very intelligent, Sister Bayala is very good at languages, Sister…” He droned on and on.

I was flicking through the picts of them. “Where are the...hot ones, father?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Pardon my use of guardsmen vernacular, what I meant was, why can’t we have a voluptuous woman here for a change, father? I mean we have the astropath but she drools too much.”

Highmaunt gesticulated and sputtered wildly. He looked like me whenever I had those troublesome fits.

Come evening it all went wrong. The adjutant brought back a monstrous dog with spikes and curved teeth and wild, maroon eyes. Even now, I can still hear the straining grunts it made as it  struggled against the chains. The strays here aren’t much for looks. I told my adjutant to take it out back and give it a bath. He gave me a haughty look but complied, I couldn’t believe it. Not only was he my underling, but he was from the 14th Bucellarii, my father’s regiment that I served with when I was just a mere child, my regiment loves me! The cataphract company serves as my bodyguard at headquarters.

Always an impatient fellow, he led the beast in with the help of an electro-lash.

I was sitting down at the table, Captain Desiderus was with me, cursing those Eldar in that earthy plebeian language of his. I trust this man with my life, he was with me during my youngest years and he even made me a pair of little boots to wear while we were all marching.

“The Eldar in this sub-sector are supposed to be dying,” he was saying, “that’s what the latest report from the Logis Strategos said, So, Emperor forbid it, how are they able to pull off all this shit? Pardon my language, sir.”

“What was the offensive word, ‘shit’ or ‘Eldar’?”

Our laughter was interrupted by our silverware shaking and clattering to the floor, the smashing of the fine porcelain was consumed by a loud roar that sent pict frames falling off the walls.

“It was from the field kitchen!”

“Stay here, sir.” He was putting on his scabbard and holster. “Damn xenos love surprise attacks, sir.”

“You don’t understand, it's my bakers!”

“Them? How…”

We hopped in a chimera and found the field kitchen completely ablaze. The convicts were hacking each other with knives, battering each other with rolling pins, one cackling maniac was swinging around a frying pan. The metal sang and it slammed, just destroyed the faces of his enemies, sending their broken forms to the floor. A toothless recidivist made to stab his back but the maniac turned round and brought it down over the backstabbers head. Krazy Kris, known in better circles as The Nightmare Man, had half of his face burned and was yelling wildly.

“That wasn’t a box of eggs, it was a bomb!”

Nosetaker brandished a butcher’s knife opposite of him. “You assaulted my man bringing you the batter!”

“You’ve done it now!” For decency’s sake I can’t repeat what Krazy Kris said next but, suffice to say, these criminals are dirty, dirty people.

Nosetaker swung the monstrous blade down but Krazy Kris sidestepped it and wrestled it out of his hand and the two resorted to fistcuffs. Landing blows on each other that would kill a normal man, Nosetaker eventually gained the upper hand and laid a open palmed strike on Krazy Kris’s chest and sent him down. Notetaker tackled his prone form and went for the kill.

Battles are filled with violence, and He knows I’m not squeamish, but this was pure, naked carnage. You haven’t seen anything until you see some grizzled delinquent known as the Defiler of Mothers (a censored name) using a cheese grater on a poor wretch’s face.

It would appear that working together was too alien a notion to these brutes. My faith in man is misplaced…

Headlights blinded us and another chimera pulled up. The hatch opened with a clank and the penal company’s commissar practically leapt out. He was holding a dataslate.

“I swear to the Throne they do this every week. Close your eyes, I’m going to pop a few collars.” He tapped away and collars popped indeed, their heads too. Krazy Kris and Notetaker, I mean Nosetaker, lay in a crumpled, decapitated heap. Flashes danced among the mob and bodies fell, the convicts dropped their weapons and raised their hands. “Alright my boys, load up the bodies and form up.”

The bodies were stored in the chimera and they formed up ranks in front of us.

“Now, what do we say to the Lord General?” The commissar asked.

“Sorry,” they all said.

The commissar gave me an apologetic shrug. “They get a little rowdy sometimes. Have a good evening, general.” He drove off slowly with the bloodstained survivors marching after him.

“Well I’ll say. Looks like we’ll be having leftovers.” Captain Desiderus always kept a stiff upper lip, as the praetorians say.

We drove back and a new disaster awaited us. The harsh reports of hellgun fire came from within my headquarters. Robed scribes clutching scrolls to their chests, staff officers weighed down with medals, chattering servitors, all fled from the monstrous growling that came from what only could be my dog. The doorway was open and the interior was filled with brilliant red flashes.

“Wait here, sir!” Desiderus ran into the fray and I couldn’t help but follow. Inside my pet threw tables and cogitators aside as if they were just toy blocks. Undaunted, my cataphracts dodged the thrown objects and fanned around the creature, pouring shots endlessly into the beast's hide. The bright impacts reflecting off of their polished carapace armor. But it was invulnerable! The spikey growth just absorbed my bodyguard’s fire, it snarled at me.

“Bad! Bad! Sit down!” I chastised.

It made to charge but shrank away from my captain’s whirring chainsword. It made a noise halfway between a hiss and a moan and fled. My cataphracts followed but it was gone, it had disappeared into the tree cover.

A damage report was quickly compiled. Apparently, the beast broke free of its chains, wrecked the tactical room, soiled the sheets of my bed and ate my adjutant. I had to grab the long limb of a servitor dedicated coat hanging in order to catch my breath, which came in deep gasps. Then it happened.

“Sir.” A timid little woman was squeaking at me. “New orbital picts came from fleet, the xenos are at these coordinates.” She showed me a dataslate and my struggled breathing stopped.

The other side of the sector. They had somehow gone dark, slipped past my lines, including the territory held by the 76th with their defence in depth tactics and all those trenches...We would have to pack up everything and move, the regiments without vehicles would have to do a forced march...Again!

My vision swam, I tasted mint and fell to the floor. The last thing I remembered was Desiderus gripping my arms and another cataphract forcing a gag between my teeth.

“Hold him down!” My personal physician was shouting. “Watch his legs!”

<Ends.>

Entry 3

<Rumbling of a vehicle can be heard in the background.>

It is very stressful to being on the move and Highmaunt should have known this.

Most of this stress came from, oddly enough, the well disciplined 76th. As I said earlier, my little morose fanatics don’t get along with others. The first party they offended was the 60th Askaris. Now, the Askaris have only recently undergone conversion to the Imperial Creed. They are completely faithful but some questionable practices are still practiced. Most notably, they believe the material possessions of a dead man to be cursed, so they hide these possessions under sacred cairns of rock. Well, the 76th have been suffering from chronic supply problems after some military disaster and when they saw these cairns the inevitable happened. Their quartermasters toppled them over and took everything. Rations, clothes, weapons, ammunition, everything! The irate Askaris descended on them and if it wasn’t for the efforts of the 76th’s commissar (who actually decided to do his job) a small skirmish would have taken place.

The next incident had to do with the 90th Praetorians and I was witness to it. We fording a rushing river filled with slippery eels that enjoyed wrapping around guardsmen's legs and toppling over. Clinging weeds dragged at the treads and wheels of the vehicles that ponderously made their way across. Too often, tanks or basilisks would get stuck in the weeds and cables would have to be used to drag them out, but carefully, lest they snap and send them floating away downstream.

Once the vehicles made it across the infantry began to cross. Major Blighsterman, not wanting to get wet, was carried by a sergeant across. Then the colonel, or oberst of the 76th, standing on the shore spotted them.

“Any guardsman who can’t walk is a liability. Drop him.”

The sergeant, seeing the insignia that identified Colonel 76 as a superior, was at a loss for words.

“Do it now. The advance must not falter.”

Major Blighsterman cuffed the back of the sergeant’s head and that did it. The major went for a swim and was abducted by the eels. The sergeant got on the shore and saluted the Krieg colonel, not looking unhappy at all. Blighsterman would later return unharmed, covered in slime and bruised but perfectly healthy, but at the time the praetorians were crying foul play and the 76th’s commissar had to settle things down again. By the Emperor, talk about a job I don’t envy.

The final straw came when we stopped in a floodplain to catch our breath and to wait for any stragglers. The 76th, believing that a static defence is the best defence, immediately began digging in. The unsuspecting stragglers arrived and fell into the anti tank ditches. Moving quickly, the Krieg guardsmen grabbed them and began interrogating them. Asking where their superiors were and why were they behind. Hundreds of stragglers were rounded up and once again the commissars from the other regiments had to talk to the 76th’s commissar and it took forever for the whole mess to be sorted out.

This was the last straw, so they wouldn’t get into anymore trouble I put them in the rear of the column, a dangerous position prone to xenos raids, and their they performed admirably. Going down the column with Desiderus at my side, I observed how the Krieg guardsmen would dig two trenches, move up with the column, did two trenches, then go up with the column again. At first I thought it was tedious until I saw how they handled the raids.

The thick walls of solid brush so widespread on this planet rustled and the singing xenos with the swords emerged. They were graceful, I admit, but they stood no chance against the raw firepower of the entrenched companies. The near constant cracking of lasfire brought them down and yet a few managed to jump into the first trench. I held my breath, thinking it was the end, but not so! The majority of the Krieg guardsmen retreated to the second trench while a courageous, or suicidal, few remained behind, threw their lasrifles to moving hands, and tackled the screaming xenos. Once the xenos managed to extricate themselves from the clinging human mass the guardsmen in the second trench, reinforced by the survivors of the first trench, had set up overlapping firing lines that could not be overwhelmed. The once frightening and awe inspiring screams met a silent and pitiful end in the killing zone.

This strategy was repeated and the results were inarguably positive. Sometimes, a howling xeno would manage to jump over the second trench but mobile squads of un-entrenched infantry would quickly silence the shrew.

This tactic was a sight to behold. Defence in depth brought to a devastatingly effective high. And yet...it was wrong. The guardsmen who remained behind in the first trench...I can’t help...no. This is how it must be done. Using this tactic the 76th conducted several successful rearguard actions and the raids have stopped.

But the casualties! How long will they last if they keep doing things like this? I have moved them to a more secure place in the center of the column, I don’t care how many other regiments they piss off!

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself and then Highmaunt had to come and ruin everything. It was in the evening and I was settling down for a grox steak when he burst into my tent and yelled.

“Your eating meat!”

“So?”

“It’s the feast day!”

“No it isn’t.”

“There is, I told you about it!”

All I could do was stare. What else could I do? He was quite up in years, the elderly do tend to get a little batty.

“Believe me, I understand your frustration, father. But you really should have told me about this earlier.”

“I did!”

“You did?”

“Yes, yes. Listen to the past recording you made.”

I confess, I lost my temper. I have a bad one, another thing Highmaunt should have known about. “Now listen here, I don’t organize those things and I’m not going to dig around for your sake, father.”

“Just put the fork down.”

“No!” I opened the flaps of the tent. “Out!”

“And when I come back…”

“Your fired! I don’t need you on my staff!”

He sputtered and gulped like one of those clingy eels. “You can’t do this! I’m the only one in your circle with any type of spiritual background. Campaigning is important, but while your doing your planning the light of the Emperor must…”

“The light of the Emperor, not the old, saggy face of a nagging senile! Out!”

He shut up when he realized I was serious. “Where w-will I go?”

“I don’t know. Surely the Emperor will be guide you...Farewell!” Desiderus came and dragged him out.

Can anyone just sit down and relax in this sub-sector without something going wrong?

Now, thinking about it, I really do need a religious person on staff. It’s just the right thing to do. <Gasps.> I see it, so clearly, another genius idea! I will have one of those men from the 76th be my chaplain! One of those quartermasters, the angels of death, will do the job! Another genius idea on my part.

Hey, Desiderus, guess what!

<Ends.>

Entry 4

My new chaplain is a little eccentric.

He doesn’t observe the sub-sector’s local feast days. He does not really pray or preach...He talks a lot about...uh...dying. It was amusing at first but then it started sounding downright apocalyptic.

It started off normal enough, we were sitting in my mobile command post and he started criticising one of the uniforms of my staff officers. He said that Major Vartix’s medals ‘attracted enemy fire’, that his boots were ‘useless for marching’, the he was ‘overweight’ and that his mistress was taking up space and should be ‘conscripted.’ Major Vartix eyes screwed all up but I stepped in and changed the conversation.

“So, Quartermaster...one, two, three...Epsilon?” I ventured. “You certainly have plenty of opinions, what would you say is the greatest thing a man or woman could possibly do?”

His answer was instantaneous. “Dying for the Emperor, sir.”

“That is a very polarizing opinion. Many would consider starting a family, building a nice looking monument, commanding a ship, or getting an impressive promotion the best thing.”

“Does it involve the Emperor, sir?”

“Why yes...Many, if not most, people serve the Emperor in the offices of the Administratum or within the factories of the many forge worlds. Service to Him does not necessarily involve dying.”

“Dying for Him is the supreme act of faith, sir.” Epsilon stated matter of factly.

“Supreme? As in the best?”

Epsilon then went on a spiel about how laying down one's life was a victory in itself as long as it harmed the enemy, no matter how small the damage. His homeworld had inflicted terrible harm to the Imperium but the loyalist forces won. Suffering a horrifying, mind boggling, price in doing so. I really don’t want to talk about this price, even now it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Anyway, the 76th is making up for the harm their ancestors had done through their unquestioning service.

Vartix, who was once so mad, was completely pacified by all this. He apologized to the quartermaster and hurried away, showing an emotion I had never seen on him before. Fear.

If Epsilon’s beliefs are valid, that would mean the best way for atoning for one’s crimes is by throwing themselves into the fray regardless of personal safety. Now this is where it gets uncomfortable, this sacrifice must be done willingly. The Krieg guardsmen don’t go into battle with explosive collars around their necks, that is disgraceful, they do it all out of faith in the Emperor. My thoughts turned to the doomed men in the first trench…They probably didn’t view their demise as a tragedy. They were martyrs, they must have...enjoyed it? No, they don’t enjoy themselves, I don’t want to know what goes through their minds. Morbid, fatalistic… <Inaudible muttering.>

I told Epsilon to go on some errand and I sat there. I thought nothing would ever stun me but hearing this...person talk about these things without any signs of distress…<More inaudible muttering.> This guardsman has me in a bad mood.

<Sounds of tent flaps being moved aside. Soft, but not timid, voice.>

“Time for the service? Well, alright…”

<Aside.> He still has that rebreather on...

<Ends.>

Entry 5

Quartermaster Epsilon is gone.

The service was a nightmare. It started out nice, we listened to some beautiful music and the quartermaster conducted the usual mass. It was all peaceful, I sat in the mobile command post’s shrine with the others and everything was alright with the world. I nearly fell asleep.

Then the quartermaster wanted to show us a friend of his. A very upstanding and pious fellow, by his description. Now this woke me up, a stone cold guardsmen like this, having a friend? He never mentioned this before...Now bear in mind, he didn’t use the word ‘friend’ but something in the local dialect that sounded like comrade.

We were all leaning out of our seats, eager to see what kind of person our strange quartermaster would associate with. With a smooth gesture he put a hand in that big coat of his and took out a small wooden box. A hush descended over the room. I was instinctively nervous...but fascinated.

“There's not a head in their is their?” He didn’t laugh at my joke, I don’t know what I was expecting. “Of course not, it’s too small...How can you fit your comrades in their.”

He popped the lid and I saw…

“Bone fragments?” I leaned in and took a closer look. “Human bones?”

Louds gasps came from all around, I glanced around and several of my most battle hardened officers looked sick.

The quartermaster nodded. “My Kameraden are always with me. They paid their debts in full.”

“How did they-”

Vartix broke the spell and stood up. “WHAT THE (I dare not repeat).”

The room was pandemonium and I had to quietly escort the quartermaster out through the backway.

“Is my conduct questionable, sir?”

“Not at all, your just a little...extreme. It might be prudent for you to go back to your regiment.”

“Apologies, sir.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone has their place and your place is with your...comrades, you called them? Oh look, we’re outside. Off you go, send your colonel my regards.”

Before he left he handed me a strange letter. Apparently the strange beast that was in my headquarters before we moved out was brought by the 76th. Odd… Here is what the letter said. It’s a little difficult to read, I don’t think this sub-sector’s dialect is the author’s first language. A lot of words are completely foreign to me:

<A physical copy of this letter has been recovered.>

Dear Lord General Comode:

	It iz-is sad that yoo-your pet died. Hauptmann ordrd me to catch a dog and they have vier legs and fur und the sentrys spottd der dog and it had vier legs and fur so we used net und dog bit gefreiter…<Aside.>a bunch of numbers<Aside.>...politischer offizier told me not dog and we...“Oh nein, a tragedy,” we say…Apoligies concirning adjootant...hop finding a new eins not too dfficult. Politscher offizer still instucting me in der wryting...Condolenses.

<To himself.>This goes on some more but you get the gist of it.

Sincerely,

Gefreiter 76-3474-Theta-76. Infanterie Regiment-A Kompanie-Gott Kaiser Mitt Uns-Wir Ausharren

PS. From the bottom of our hearts we apologize about sending you that beast. Please understand, my guardsmen come from a deathworld where the most complex form of life is this radiotrophic fungus that grows in the ruins. They also grow these mounts in vats underground but our regiment does not have those anymore. Wildlife is new to them so they really thought that thing was a dog. Again, I apologize. I pray to the Emperor this does not ruin your opinion of our glorious regiment.

Sincerely,
Commissar Emil Crostadt. :^)

<To himself.>Things just get stranger and stranger. Are they playing a joke on me? No...I need to consult my physician after we dig in.

<End.>

Entry 6

Troubles upon troubles upon troubles! I swear to the Emperor I’m going to snap if this keeps up!

We are all dug in and, even better, have completely encircled the Eldar. For what that's worth anyway. The knife ears have a habit of slipping away no matter what I do. It’s not my fault! I do whatever is humanly possible, I swear!

Anyway, the 76th, the 90th and the 60th have the xeno wargroup pinned while Vartix oversaw the flanking regiments going round either side. It was fitting that he was given command of these units since he came up with the idea of an encircling movement. Risky business… but he he assured me that he would lead us all to success. The 14th Bucellarii having the place of honor leading the right flanking wing. Liaison officers from other regiments felt slighted by this and accused me of playing favorites. Well, the truth is…. Yes! I’m playing favorites! Too bad!

 Vartix believes that if we move fast enough we can stop them from slipping away again. Sounds easy, but the catch is that this is happening at night.

I am wary of nocturnal maneuvers. Especially nocturnal maneuvers conducted by guardsmen exhausted by forced marching. If Vartix pulls this off I’ll give him a promotion… and maybe other things…

My physician cornered me and the news was very disturbing. My physician was originally a medicae in my father’s regiment, by virtue of his experience I made him my own physician. He’s still a medicae but in my opinion, ‘physician’ is much more classier sounding than ‘medicae’.

“Strange things have been happening,” I explained to my physician. “First I hear this news about a field kitchen going up in flames and then there’s this business about a feast day I was not warned about.”

“I have been-”

“And the 76th dropped a beast off in my headquarters? I’m not even mad, just confounded. I have a letter I can show you talking about it.”

“I have been,” my erstwhile physician continued, “watching your condition for a long time.”

“Yes, yes, yes… That’s what I expect you to do.”

The physician asked some questions and I answered them. I could tell it was all pointless. My physician spoke and moved with the confidence of a man who had reached his conclusion a long time ago.

Eventually my physician said, “For the longest time I was convinced you were epileptic. A condition that has plagued your family for many generations.”

My temper came back in full force and I found myself scowling at him. My epilepsy is a sensitive topic that is known only to those in my inner circle. That hasn’t stopped my rivals from spreading harmful rumors to my detriment. Those anklebiting miscreants… It’s because of them I haven’t gotten any more promotions or why all my marriage proposals have been rejected by noblewomen who should have  considered themselves honored to receive the charming attentions of Lord General Preone Commode! <Panting.> Anyway…

“My lord, don’t be alarmed. I never officially diagnosed you with that and now I’m glad I didn't. Your condition appears to be special. For instance, your seizures manifested in adulthood while epileptics usually suffer since childhood. Also your seizures are followed by a fugue state where you sit down and sometimes make audio recordings. But it seems that after these states you forget-”

“Your wrong,” I growled between gritted teeth. “I don’t forget.”

My physician sifted through the clutter in one of my drawers. Picking up and examining the low tech recording devices I’m so fond of. There nothing fancy but they're easy to use. “Listen to these, my lord, they’ll prove you right. If your using them you must know on some level...” He saw that I was barely containing my rage so he hurriedly made himself scarce.

Maybe I will listen to these things… But I write all sorts of trivial things on scrap paper too, do I have to read those?

<Distant las and artillery fire. Commode emits a loud sigh.>

Oh Emperor, don’t let them get away. The flanking wings must have made contact and…”

<Footsteps and voices. Shufflings of papers and dataslates. Intermittent vox chatter.>

The 76th, 60th and 90th are reporting raids all along their lines. Usually the Eldar only conduct raids when the regiments are more vulnerable in marching order. Could these raid be presaging an all out assault? Are the damned xenos planning on escaping the flanking wings by breaking through my entrenched units? So much uncertainty. If only I could look into the future, if only to see a few seconds ahead!

<Shouting.> Adjutant! Get out there and figure out what the hell is going on. Check the status of the flanking units and tell Vartix to keep them moving! I don’t want him getting cold feet and if the regimental commanders don’t follow Vartix’s orders then tell them that the major is my man! That makes Vartix a living saint as far as their concerned! If you can’t fetch a ride at the motor pool than use your bloody legs for once! Out you go!

<A massive detonation. Walls and ceiling reverberating. Shouting increases.>

Did the xenos send a team here? Desiderus go out and check the perimeter, will you? What? An ammunition dump blew? I hope it’s not the 76th’s, they need every shell they can get. Desiderus! You still here?! I changed my mind, have the cataphract company reinforce the 76th. Hurry, man! Headquarters will be alright, don’t worry we’ve got others protecting us.

<Distant sounds of shrieking. Starts together but grows more discordant. Xenos origin.>

This is going to be a close run of things…

<Time passes. Shouting, small arms and artillery fire. Vox chatter and shouted orders. The sounds of war.>

VOX OFFICER: Left wing not moving. Right wing reporting success. This damned vox… I can’t get anymore. Unconfirmed reports of the ammunition dump belonging to the Askaris.

Tell them to move! Where in creation did my adjutant go off too? Someone vox Vartix and ask if the adjutant made it. I don’t care if the left wing is lost tell them to move! Send a runner if the vox is all fouled up! Send another runner to see how the defending regiments are fairing.

<Commode swears under his breath. More time passes. Fighting continues.>

VOX OFFICER: Wings are moving. Praise be to the Emperor! Vartix is reporting success! No word on the adjutant.

RUNNER: <Out of breath.> 76th… and 90th… are holding. There’s an inferno where the Askari artillery batteries use to be…

Will they hold?

RUNNER: I don’t think so. There's skulkers heading to the rear and… and their commissar’s gone. A lot of Askaris are having to stop fighting so they can put out the flames, sir.

Dead? Has their resident black coat been killed?

RUNNER: Their commissar is just gone, sir. Caught in the blast I quess. Bless his soul, the poor commissar was just… vaporized.

My adjutant?

VOX OFFICER: No word. He’s in the Emperor’s hands now.

We can’t count on the 60th now. Are the reserves in position?

STAFF OFFICER: Yes, sir.

Throw them in. All of them in! I want you to personally oversee it so no one thinks of turning back.

STAFF OFFICER: If the reserves fail and the xenos get through our center, sir… There’ll be nothing between us and them. Perha-

You don’t think I know that you useless bastard?! Do it!

<Receding footsteps of Staff Officer barely audible. Humming noise. Xeno weaponry?>

I’m in my own quarters now, just me and this device in my hand. It all seems lost… Will the reserves even make it in the dark? Of course… ha…. Of course…. All they have to do is follow the screams of the wounded and the glow of flames. And I am responsible for it all. I create and I destroy! Ha…

If I win? My enemies will eat their words. Epilepsy? Bah! Slander, all of it! I will earn the respect that I deserve.

If I fail? I will be stuck on this fern choked ball of dirt until the Eldar are dealt with.

I hope Desiderus is all right. By the Throne, what would I do without him?

What if the reserves fail and headquarters is left exposed? Like a naked man stranded in a deathworld… Would a long limbed and tall xeno, its plumed crest bobbing up and down as it examined our clunky instruments, delicately picked it’s way through strategy room before finding my body alone and ravaged?

The noise outside is unending. I know what I must do. The best commanders lead from the front after all. I must go. I’ve done this before and I can do it again. There is a conflict that is waged in every man’s heart before he puts himself in a lethal situation. This inner conflict being between his will and his innate fear of death. It’s a battle every guardsman has to wage this private war every time he goes into the breach. Most guardsman at least, I’ve seen for myself that everyone in the 76th decisively conquered that conflict a long time ago. There hearts don’t cry out, there's only will. One does not become a martyr through a lucky coincidence. They WILL their martyrdoms.

If my army dies I die with it. I am not seizure ridden incompetent! I am Commode!

Once more into the breach.

<Commode’s footsteps recede. Shouting is heard.>

STAFF OFFICER: Where are you going? Sir? Come back!

<Ends.>

Entry 7

At last, good tidings! We won. Emperor be praised, we won!

It was close. Too damned close. My careful oversight of the flanking maneuver caught the foul xenos by surprise and in their rush to get away they slammed against the regiments I had entrenched. The xeno attack was perfectly done, but it was no match for superior firepower, firing positions, defence works and most importantly, my leadership!

They nearly got through. The newly raised Askari regiment didn’t store their shells away properly and a well placed plasma grenade sent the whole stock flying up in flame. The cowards amongst the 60th took advantage of this to run away while the brave defenders had to deal with the mess. Charred bodies, wounded men covered in burns stumbling around a violence filled night lit with strobing lights, leaderless privates calling out for help in vain while the Eldar picked them off one by one in the din. Only the arrival of my reserves, led by me, saved them from anniha… Ah! <Sneezes.> Annihilation!

The 60th is pretty mauled now. Looking at them now you would have thought Lord Marshal Kadornna had decimated the whole lot. I’m having them do garrison duty and administrative tasks now. Soon they’ll be transferred to a barracks world where’ll either be brought to full strength or merged with another regiment.

Or the Munitorum might just send them to the slaughter again in one of their stunning displays of competence.

My Bucellarii have done me proud and we will be holding a triumph this evening. Afterwards I will turn them all loose in the Staff Officer’s Brothel. Field brothels will also be provided to the other regiments. Some old windbag called Highmaunt started a petition with other Ecclesiarchy officials protesting my idea of thanking the men for their wonderful performance. In response, I told them that it’s highly unlikely the prudish 76th will take part in the debauchery which means that their celibacy will outweigh the sins of my carousing victors. Oh, the look on Highmaunt’s face!

Still there are troubles that plague me. <Sniffs.>

The Eldar’s center has been effectively destroyed. Odd xenos constructions which intelligence suggests they used to slip around my army for so long were destroyed. Reduced to piles of rubble and then that rubble was incinerated. Still, they have scattered into small groups and it is up to me to hunt them all down. It is highly likely that this will devolve into an irregular conflict, oh… Those are no fun at all… The Eldar have stooped lower by fighting like primitive partisans.

It’s almost like they want me to stay here… Why?

Then there's my adjutant. He is not the same one I had before. He says that he’s the third one but I don’t remember there being any others. But everyone else agrees with my new adjutant, even Desiderus! Odd, an adjutant is an important person to have around. I feel like I’d remember someone important. My physician been haggling me but he knows better to interrupt while I’m preoccupied with matters that take precedence over my health. Ah! How I suffer for the Emperor. <Coughing.>

But the biggest problem has to do with Major Vartix. In my report to subsector command I rightfully made it clear that all the laurels of victory belonged to me. Didn’t I not lead the reserves to battle? Wasn’t the encircling maneuver, brilliantly executed, a creation of my mind? NO! NO! Says Major Vartix. It was my idea but NO NO NO IT WAS MINE! IT WAS- <Coughing.> Ugh…

This is what happened! I just sent off the report, a confidential report mind you, but Vartix stormed into my office waving a hard copy of it in my face. Such impudence!

“What is this?” Vartix’s eyes were bulging and his great red face was bloated inside it’s high collar. He looked like a frog in a bowl. “What is this? My name is nowhere in here!”
“Of course not. Pen your memoirs if you want your name somewhere,” I replied evenly.

“Maybe I will. Just so that everyone with half a brain will know your a fraud!” Vartix’s sword rattled in its hilt as he shuddered with rage. Curious faces appeared in the doorway.

“Out now!” I shouted and the faces disappeared. Vartix and I were alone. “How could you say that, after all I’ve done? It was my battle, my plan, my men, this army is MINE! You are MINE!”

Vartix did not back down before my righteous rage. “Your only accomplishment was stumbling out of headquarters when we needed you the most!”

“I will destroy you major! Body and soul! I will destroy you for that comment!”

Knowing that I was right, Vartix feigned injury and played the part of the righteous hero who was being unfairly treated. “You promised me so much. A promotion, marriage into your family, a planetary governorship…”

I started laughing in his face.

<Coughing.> Ack! This cold… continuing.

“Please! Please, sir… Just mention me in your dispatch…”

“A higher chance of that happening than letting you get your clammy hands on one of my beautiful sisters!”

“So…”

“Isn’t it obvious? No. And you’ll be lucky if I don’t send you to that penal legion under my command.”

Vartix made to advance on me but I stood up and went round my desk. The truculent major backed up before me. He spoke in broken starts and stutters but, right when I had him backed to the doorway, he spoke clearly. “Your not the hero you think you are. They found you passed out naked in the underbrush. Your uniform was missing, some miscreant took advantage of you oh mighty lord general! No one had any idea where you were. A fatigue party from the 76th found you. One of their quartermasters said you must have been thrashing all over the place because the underbrush was torn up. You had fisfulls of it in your clenched hands!”

“Get out,” I growled.

“You had one of your damned seizures again!”

“I don’t have seizures! There just these little fits I have-”

“Your epileptic! Or else your possessed!”

“You’ve done it now, Desiderus! Arrest this man!”

Desiderus, who no doubt was waiting right outside, suddenly materialized behind Vartix and tackled him to the floor. All that weight on Vartix proved to be partially muscle and the major threw Desiderus up, no mean feat mind you, and slammed him on my desk. My papers and dataslated went everywhere! The papers wafted around the room in a fibrous storm as the two men battled, more of my faithfull cataphracts came in and wrestled Vartix to the floor.

I shouted, “I want him alive! He will be part of my triumph!” <Wheezes and coughs.> Hrmph… where’s that medicine… Right… the triumph.

I issued a general order to my commissars and provosts that all guardsmen in MY army were to be arrested if they ever made any comments about me being epileptic. A severe order that nevertheless, did not disrupt the gaiety of my triumph.

All of my regiments marched, my Bucellarii in the front of course. Their booted feet made a rhythmic stomping sound that made its beat all down a road paved with armor from the fallen xenos. The sun set behind them, the lengthening rays spilled through the twisted foliage and painted their shoulders in shades of crimson, pink and gold. It was as if they were draped in gold leaf, as the icons of the God Emperor are covered in in any respectable house of worship. My men walked proudly, bathed in His radiance.

My Cataphracts brought up the rear with an old cargo box being carried in the center of their column. Desiderus at the front. Usually I would never put them in such a dishonorable position, but their special purpose did more to make up for it. The procession halted in a large drillyard that had been cleared of foliage and stamped flat just for this magnificent occasion. The columns neatly separated from each other, their colours catching the evening wind and spreading over immaculate uniforms. My men were well prepared for this occasion. Before I knew it they all formed a massive square around the yard, facing inwards.

No more false rumours doubting my ability. This display utterly destroyed the will of any dissenters in the ranks working against me. My army loves me!

On my stage, I stood up from the comfy cushions I had been lounging on (a lord general must be comfortable) and shouted at the assembled guardsmen. The vox speakers magnified my voice that a few sleepy guardsmen hopped in surprise and sent birds flying out of the trees.

“Men and women of the Imperial Guard!” I spread my hands to encompass them all. “Upon the commencement of this campaign we stood round on another field, on another continent, together with familiar faces that while they are not with us now, they are with us in spirit.” There was a quiet murmur among the Askaris whose ranks had thinned considerably, I thought I saw some tears on young, dark faces. I put more compassion into my voice, “We have traversed great distances, leaving our mark upon this world with the stomp of our boots, the stamp of our machine’s treads and the ruined bodies of our enemies. The xenos still live, but they are now on the run, victorys is all but assured.” There were murmurs in some of the ranks that the commissars had to hush.

I let that sink in before continuing, “In this sea of impossibilities one thing remains the same. I am here. When I first stepped onto this world I made a promise that I would never abandon you, and I still hold on to that promise. But…” Again with the pause before starting again, “But that promise was not made lightly. I will never abandon you, my brave troopers, as long as you never abandon me. I require your the devotion of your arms, your hearts and your minds. I don’t question your loyalty. Oh no, my concern is solely with those who seek to poison your minds, who seek to turn your wills against mine. Against those who are against me I will act with the same decisiveness which has driven off the xenos that have plagued us for so long.”

On that note the box was brought to the center of the yard by my Cataphracts. Desiderus opened the door and stepped into it. The ranks stirred in agitation, even the commissars were on edge. Presently, Desiderus emerged with a bound and gagged Major Vartix hauled out. Another group carried a wooden tripod to the center. The guardsmen where whispering in alarm now, some of the less disciplined even shouted. To be expected.

There was one however, whose reaction troubled me. He was a private in one of the 76th’s flanking companies. I remember seeing him craning his neck forward and shifting about excitedly, as if this whole thing was a very entertaining operette. I was reminded of the onlookers in fighting pits of Cyriaca.

Vartix was tied to the tripod and his jacket was ripped open at the back. The major’s eyes were bulging out of his sweat lathered face. I took up my whip, hopped down form the stage and marched to Vartix. Such hate was in his eyes! I walked round him and held the whip up high. For the longest time I just listened to his panicked panting .

I raised it high for all to see...and then I lowered it and, after a moment, dropped it.

“I am merciful!” I shouted. I don’t mean to exaggerate but everyone there can attest to my voice making birds fly from the treetops. “I will not strike you, dear Vartix. I shall never harm you nor anyone that serves me. A just master never beats his servants!”

Before I could say more I was overwhelmed by an extreme revulsion that wasn’t against anything in particular. So strong was it I dropped the whip and wandered off in a bit of fugue. My head ached and when I looked back at Vartix, on a whim perhaps, I fancied I saw lights shimmering over his head like a mirage. I remember being distantly aware of the guardsmen murmuring, of Desiderus taking charge of the field, my Cataphracts’ armor jingling as they surrounded and escorted me. I’ll have to ask them if I said anything embarrassing. There in the hallway outside, I can hear them breathing through the walls as sure as they can hear me cough in here. I remember this much, it was when I returned to my office that I really started hacking. Still am a little bit.

I must sound pretty bad off to them. Maybe their thinking that their earlier escort was part of a funeral procession. Ha ha…

<Coughs.>

<Ends.>

<Ends.>

+++Unknown if Commode was even aware he made the below recording.+++

Entry 8

It’s coming back! I see it all now see it all now fever is making me sharper see it all now.

Dancing dancing dancing onfootofbed dancing long limbed laughing things they were over Vartix’s head. Miming a flogging. Invisible laughter hahhahahhaaha <Coughs.> Ah….

Fantastical jesters! One leg up one down twist the waist a pretty pirouette round and round.

Am I dying? Did someone poison me? Are you trying to kill me now Vartix!

Tap tap tap tap tap tap outside tap tap tap tap the jesters are dancing taptaptaptaptap

Emperor preserve me! Don’t let me die! Who will lead...the xenos are still out there…

Desiderus! Call him in! If I die you must give him...my little boots…

Oh almighty God Emperor, if you’ll spare me. Oh, if you will spare your humble servant…things will change…I promise!

PHYSICIAN: He’s delusional. Soak the cloth in cool water please…

Have my guardsmen line up outside and take turns walking through this room so that I may see them...like the great pre-Imperial king…

Physician: Calm down, sir.

I’m calm but... Oh! Don’t let me die! I can’t! Not now, when so much needs to be done…

Entry 9