The Journal of Snake Napalm

[Snakes in the Tiki Lounge]

The Journal of Snake Napalm, Battle Brother of the Star Wolves and Deathwatch Marine.

Entry 37
Always felt it was important to get my thoughts down, even back when I ran with the Snakes and before the Wolves chose me. If nothing else, this usually seems to make the end of mission report back to the Chiefs easier than it otherwise would be.

Finally managed to escape that dreary holding-cell of a Watch-Station. It was like a waiting room, a half dozen Marines sharing close quarters and endless days without missions, without meaning. Have been assigned to an established Kill-Team that was brought in under strange  cirumstances. Word is they've done great things, but something went wrong on their last mission and all their memories of it were stolen. Even worse, an Honoured member of their team gave his life during the mission but no-one remembers why or how so no songs will be sung of his deeds or his valiant last stand against the enemies of man.

I can only hope I prove worthy to take his place in the team.

The task involves escorting a Major Brandt to the Moon-base of the Death Whispers chapter, where he hopes to be reuinited with lost brethren. Sounds to be a quiet mission, more of a milk-run than anything, but a worthy cause. The other members of the new Kill-Team have kept to themselves on the journey, a number of them sleeping the whole time in Suspended Animation. The thought of letting our guards down so totally is strange to me, but I shaln't question the wisdom of it, not whilst aboard the Inquisitor's transport. I took it upon myself instead to learn the layout of the ship and the strength of the crew whilst they rest, incase events should conspire to threaten my recumbant brethren.

[Snakes in the Tiki Lounge]

Entry 38
We arrived at the moon and have now done our part in this small task. The Major and the icon-less Grey Angels who are providing the Death Whisper Honour-guard seem to have much to catch up on, history shared and lost that suggests a great calamity somewhere in the past.

Strange people, these Grey Angels. The Major seems an honourable sort, but there is a shiftyness to the eyes of the ones I found on that moon that does not sit right with me. They distrust the Inquisition with an unguarded fervor and refuse to display the symbol of their own chapter.

We engaged them in feast, drinking and fighting like warriors and they kept up admirably in both. We had them howling like wolves by the end of the night, but still they guarded their secrets with all the subtlety of a surly youth. I feel uneasy leaving the Major to their mercy, but he would take no heed of my warnings and so our time on that moon came to an end, but not before our host honoured the saviors of this moon, my new Kill-Team Brothers with new and prestigious wargear, it seems.

We have left the moon behind us now and so I cast it from my mind. The mission that they have lost the memory of eludes us still, we tracked down the last known location of their former command-ship, but there was only the sign of it having left the region via the warp, it's location shall remain a mystery to us and the blasted rocks that make up this System shed no light on the mysteries it left behind.

What comes next is left to the Inquisitor and our newly re-appointed Team Leader, a battle brother of our parent chapter the Space Wolves. In that at least, I can take comfort.

[Snakes in the Tiki Lounge]

Entry 39

Having no way to further track the missing command ship, our efforts at figuring out the mystery of my Brethren's stolen memories was interrupted as another, more immediately pressing mission presented itself.
As a favour to the Inquisitor who travels with us, we were to board a tribute ship and aid the guard in retaking it from strange, ratlike mutants who have begun to emerge from the first hold compartment.

How in the Emperor's name they managed to get into this situation escapes me, but the guardsmen though undoubtedly valiant had proven incapable of pushing back the intruders to any meaningful degree. We had no such problems, the first few encounters being trivial. The creatures used simple improvised devices and base cunning well enough, but melted away at the first sign of real resistance and our righteous fury swept them before us. Our Brother Tech Marine, Maleficus, proved invaluable. He appeased the ships disgruntled machine spirits, choking life from the mutants attempting to ambush us via the many air-ducts and hidden passages, as well as eventually pinpointing the location of the source of the invasion which I will write further on later.

It troubles me, however. My illustrious brethren, gloried by their success in saving the Death-Whispers Moon-base, seem to harbour an inexplicable loathing for Brother Maleficus. They joke freely about abandoning him to his death or worse. I am sure that it is all in good spirits, but I cannot help but feel uncomfortable. I have always been taught that a Marine should afford his brethren greater respect than that, regardless of his parent chapter or personal failings, for his every deed is on behalf of his chapter as a whole, and dishonouring yourself would bring vast shame on the Chapter.

I am certain that I am simply misunderstanding the situation and shall hold my tongue. I simply need to get used to my new Brothers, for their ways are not the ways of the Star Wolves.

The mission became complicated after this point. Our progress through the holds was breifly halted when we discovered that the hold we had just entered had been rigged to explode. Brother Maleficus valiently attempted to disarm the bombs, but the cowardly mutant scum had rigged the devices to explode on proximity. He was saved only by the Emperor's grace.

We circumnavigated the obstacles using the path the mutants had left for themselves, but shortly thereafter we encountered the unexpected. A strange woman, the size of a marine and equiped with power armour marked with inquisitorial iconography. She claimed to be an Inquisitor, though her presence had been unknown to the Tribute-Ship's captain and our own lord Inquisitor. Her claimed identity was confirmed by our own inquisitor however. Apparently she had a reputation for appearing in such inexplicable locations, alone and unexplained, before dissapearing again. She also apparently was of great age, despite looking nothing of the sort. Extensive use of stasis and other techniques, she assured us.

I must confess, I distrusted her instantly. My brethren took her at her word, however, so I contented myself with watching my own back. I must trust my instincts, ever watchful for deceipt and betrayal, but it is not my place to dictate the actions of the team nor to question the assurances of the Inquisitor who is travelling with us and whom our own Watch-Commander trusts. When it was decided that the teams would split up and move in on the device spawning the foul mutants, I volunteered for the team that would make a direct assault via the ducts, along with my Black Templar brother and the Dark Angel, Brother Dorn.

Our passage was simple, aided by brother Maleficus's controlled venting of the ducts before us, killing the Rat-beasts before they could mount a defence. Upon finding our way to the final hold, however, we had to make our way through a passage marked with the foul inscriptions of the Great Enemy. As the external team had been intended to make their way surrupticiously to the objective whilst we attracted the mutant's attention, we were forced to improvise when they encountered greater resistance than expected on their external route. As they drew the attention of our foe away from the foul device that was creating them, we were able to assault it un-opposed.

The device was clearly ancient, though whether it was of human or xenos design I cannot say. It's foulness was obvious however, and it was perfectly situated in the last hold as the cargo contained within was entirely imperial armaments. Whatever foul plot was afoot, it was our duty to stop it at all costs and so myself and my Templar Brother destroyed the device. The resulting explosion cost the life of Brother Dorn, who had left his post for reasons of his own. Lacking a jump-pack, he was unable to escape the blast radius as we did. The resulting explosion detonated the demolition charges in the hold, cracking the ship's hull and crippling it. I am glad of this, for it gives the inquisition time to investigate the captain and his crew and find out the source of the heretical device and whatever plot it was that we crushed whilst the ship is forced to wait for repairs.

During the explosion, the Inquisitor dissapeared. Not consumed in the blast, I am told, she merely dissapeared as mysteriously as she presumably appeared.

I did not know Brother Dorn well, but I morn his loss. Had he remained at our insertion point as requested, he would have been spared from the destruction. I presume that it was his desire to better cover our advance that drove him to venture further in, fully knowing the risks. Such dedication to his brother marines should be remembered. I carved a rune for him into my flesh, alongside those of my Brother Star Wolves who have fallen alongside me in past missions, may their spirits guide me to the throats of my enemies!

[Snakes in the Tiki Lounge]

Entry 40[/i]

This entry will be breif, as I am writing it whilst we prepare for our newest assignment. My spirits are troubled deeply. Perhaps it is the sudden change of location and command structure, but I find myself expecting betrayal and intruige in the mission to come. Simply put, the first half of it seems no job for a marine, let alone a Deathwatch Kill-team. We are to secure and question a Planetary Governor suspected of dealing with Xenos, before going on to deal with the Alien Scum. It seems to me that the former is exactly the kind of trivial endeavor that the Inquisition is for, but the team responsible and who will be further breifing us must not be up to the task.

We have decided to take the direct route, insertion via gunship directly into the heart of his palace, take him by order of the inquisition or by strength of arms, tolerating no interferance. If we must be wasted on such a mission, we should make it breif and uncomplicated so that we can move directly onto more fitting tasks. Alternative, going in with strength means that if there are external complications or betrayals to come, we will be better equipped to deal with them. We have been granted extensive resources for the double mission, which does nothing to assuade my fears but has at least allowed us to prepare for several eventualities.