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Kharn

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Kharn

Postby chilledmonkeybrains » 18 Apr 2014, 21:37

Here follows the tale of Kharn at Skalathrax, WHW M.04.08.2013. I will be updating this with little snippets of events as I write them. Think of it not so much as a battle report, but more of a carnage report...




Towering ruins of warped metal and stone rose up in front of the World Eaters vanguard; their heavy boots crunching through the debris underfoot. They were strangely cautious in their advance, swinging weapons left, right and above to cover a multitude of potential hiding places. A contemptor dreadnought stood sentinel on a balcony above, whilst behind them a detachment of Blood Pact setup thudd guns in almost total silence. One soldier dropped a spanner and the sound of it striking the ground echoed up and down the street. His reward; a blade drawn across his throat.

A thick fog of war shrouded the ruined city in a cold, damp embrace. The depraved offspring of Fulgrim were out there somewhere, hiding amongst what remained of the devastated buildings. But, despite their undoubted proximity, the sworn enemies of the World Eaters were not foremost upon the minds of Angry Ron’s men.

“There!” A traitor astartes shouted, pointing up towards a building at the corner of the junction ahead of them. A flash of red and bronze and a shape leapt from a first storey window, landing with uncanny deftness that belied his size upon a pile of rubble and bones. The World Eaters were momentarily awestruck as the mighty figure rose to its feet to regard them through the soulless lenses of a twisted helm.

“Blood for the blood god,” it rasped through the grill in its mask; a sonorous whisper that carried across the silent battleground to the ears of the hesitant World Eaters. They raised their bolt pistols just as the Betrayer brought his great weapon to bear, unleashing an immolating blast of unimaginable heat, liquefying the armour of four astartes before any of them could react. Holding their hands up against the light and heat, the remaining six staggered back as their erstwhile brothers burned, their bodies collapsing in on themselves from star-hot promethium, unable even to scream in their excruciating deaths.

Bolt pistols cracked, sending a volley of shells through the smoke billowing from melted flesh and metal. The contemptor above swivelled at its waist, servos whirring as it brought its deadly assault cannon around. Another blur of red and bronze, and the Betrayer disappeared back into the building.

He had others to hunt.


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The battle had commenced. Tracer fire and las beams lanced back and forth, visible through the arched window as the Betrayer walked with deadly purpose towards a large blast door. Huge explosions detonated in the distance, shaking the foundations of the building he was in. The Betrayer ignored all of this as he reached the portal. A fist the size of a man’s skull reached out to the control panel and pressed a button.

The door hissed and parted in the middle, the two halves sliding into housings in the flanking walls. A gust of wind washed over him as he stepped out onto the landing pad. Above and behind him, a quad laser fire repeatedly into the distance, where hundreds of muzzle flashes indicated heavy fire being returned with interest. On the broad landing pad itself was a large group of twenty cultists; their dark uniforms covered in sigils that displayed their devotion to the degenerate Slaanesh. They turned as he stepped out onto the platform and immediately backed away in fear. In doing so they revealed the warlord in their midst.

The Betrayer almost casually blasted half a dozen cultists with his burning brand, causing the rest to scatter. Placing the terrible weapon on the floor, he instead unslung his enormous chain axe and pointed it at the warlord.

“You”, he growled.

“With pleasure,” hissed the degenerate lord, striding arrogantly towards the hulking servant of Khorne, drawing a fell blade as he did so and spinning it adroitly in his clawed hand in a display of superior swordsmanship that had patently been honed over many decades of practice.

Kharn shrugged and slammed Gorechild into the Slaaneshi’s skull, cleaving the doomed warlord in twain, his two halves flopping to the floor in a shower of viscera. He spat on the floor.

“Weak,” he said.

Then he turned to the cultists and began throwing them one-by-one, screaming, over the edge of the platform.


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As he tossed the last cultist screaming over the edge, the Betrayer heard the sound of many heavy-shod boots running up to take position on the roof above the blast doors behind him. Before he had even turned to regard his latest victims, Kharn inhaled deeply through the grill of his mask, snorting in disgust at the sickening perfumed stench that assailed his nostrils. His mighty brand still laid there on the floor several metres behind his current position. He did not have a moment to lose.

Spinning with unnerving speed he leapt for his great weapon, still smoking heavily from its most recent discharge. As he hit the metal floor and rolled with his momentum, bolt shells blasted small holes in the metal floor behind him as they traced his movement. Swiftly heaving the Burning Brands as he rolled onto his back, Kharn unleashed a torrent of fire from the dread weapon, consuming several Emperors Children who cried out in agonising ecstasy as they rapidly turned into pools of liquid flesh and metal.

But the danger was not over. A squad of traitor astartes formed up on the rooftop and pointed their heavy weapons at him. Almost immediately a missile shrieked from one of the launchers and impacted on the floor right in front of the Betrayer. The ensuing explosion blasted the landing pad to shreds, causing the remaining Emperors Children to duck behind crenellated battlements. A column of thick smoke billowed into the sky.

As the traitor astartes peered cautiously over the top of the wall to peer through the receding smoke they beheld the broken and twisted rooftop where the Champion of Khorne had been. Howls of sadistic amusement escaped the throats of the Emperors Children.

Kharn was no more.


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The wind whistled about his ears as Kharn clung with one huge hand to the window ledge. Bits of masonry pattered harmlessly off his armour as a shower of debris fell down to the ground several storeys below. The sound of battle raging across the city was music to his ears and he took a very brief moment to savour it. Then there was a loud crash in the distance and the building shook slightly, the vibrations reverberating through his body. This was followed by another loud crash, then another; each time the building shaking more fiercely than the last.

The Betrayer looked down to see a balcony two storeys below and to the right of his slightly precarious position. He began to swing his body from side to side in a pendulum motion, increasing his swing with each pass. Then he released his grip on the ledge and dropped down several metres, landing with a thud on the small balcony, just in time to see the warped snout of a Slaaneshi warhound titan poke around the corner of a large building further down the street. Devious reptilian eyes darted back and forth in the enormous metal skull and a long purple tongue flicked in and out of its fang-filled maw. A terrible burst of fire from its Vulcan megabolter was accompanied by explosions and death screams in the distance as a thousand gigantic shells tore into the unseen enemy.

Kharn hefted the Burning Brands onto his back and lifted his huge axe to the sky, roaring an almighty challenge that echoed between the buildings.

“Beast of war! Your skull will make a fine addition to my master’s throne!”

And with that, the Betrayer leapt from the balcony.


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The warhound loped with some considerable speed down the wide avenue, sending a torrent of deadly fire into the World Eater ranks where they tried to take shelter a hundred metres further down the street. It was unleashing almost apocalyptic carnage on the followers of Khorne, killing dozens with every sweep of its rotating barrels. Body parts, broken vehicles, blood and fire filled the streets before it as it marched inexorably forward, a perverted grin of rapturous glee upon its giant lupine head. It hissed between razor sharp teeth and a high-pitched shriek from its warhorn told of its absolute delight at the butchery it was wreaking.

Kharn sprinted down the avenue behind it, running at full speed as he attempted to catch the towering behemoth. Emperors Children filled the streets in the titan’s wake, but the Betrayer was not interested in such pathetic foes; his eyes were firmly fixed upon the warhound. He shoulder barged his way through their ranks, sending armoured bodies flying. Some of them tried to halt his flight, but they were easily swatted aside. Bolt shells glanced from his pauldrons as he closed in on his prey.

Clear of the astartes, Kharn was metres behind the titan now as it slowed its pace to fire another ear-splitting burst from its cannon. It loomed above him like some sort of metal god. It was truly enormous. Kharn grinned behind his mask at the prospect of felling such a mighty machine.

There was a shimmer and the smell of ozone as he passed through its void shield and went straight for an ankle the size of a dreadnought. Gorechild swung around in a blistering arc of screaming teeth and the chainaxe struck exposed pistons, biting deep into the metal in a shower of sparks. Hydraulic fluids the colour of blood spurted from the gaping wound, showering Kharn and covering him in the foetid stuff. Corded muscles and sinew worked to their limits as he heaved to pull the axe free, bringing it around again in a sideward swipe that clove through cables and armour alike. Again and again he struck and the ground soon became slick with the machine’s blood.

Finally sensing the damage inflicted upon it, the titan reared and lifted the injured foot, hurling Kharn through the air to come crashing down on the wreckage of an armoured vehicle. The wind temporarily knocked out of him, Kharn could only look up as the warhound screeched in pain as it brought its ravaged foot back down onto the ground, dark liquid still pumping from ruptured arterial pipes. It finally looked down to search for the cause of its pain, its black eyes at last settling upon the prone form of the Betrayer. With a speed that was quite unnatural for a machine of its size it brought its terrible Vulcan megabolter to bear, pointing a dozen brutal barrels point blank at Kharn. With the whining sound of a plasma turbine, the barrels began to wind up.

Without hesitation, Kharn quickly got to his feet and jumped up onto the ten metre-long weapon. As the titan reeled in surprise, the Betrayer ran up the length of the barrel and hurled himself, Gorechild held in both hands high above his head, at the wolf-like skull of the metal monster. The huge axe smashed into the top of the beast’s head and Kharn clung there with grim determination as the titan howled in agony and shook its head from side to side in an attempt to be rid of this dangerous parasite. But the World Eater’s determination was fuelled by his devotion to Khorne, and he held on fast as the teeth of Gorechild continued to bite deeper and deeper into the gigantic skull. Blood, oil and cranial fluids gushed from the savage gash in its head and the machine spasmed violently.

At length, the monstrous warhound gave out one last groan of aberrant bliss and it toppled ever so slowly to the ground with a resounding crash that caused nearby buildings to collapse in a cacophony of noise and great clouds of dust.


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My sculpting blog: chilledmonkeybrains.com
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