Editing Kharn

[[Image:Kharn fun guy.gif|thumb|right]]
{{Story}}
Kharn the Betrayer is a famous [[Chaos]] Space Marine who revels in bloodshed. All bloodshed. Exactly who is doing the shedding, he doesn't care so much, and thusly has a wholly deserved reputation as a teamkilling fucktard. Despite this, he's actually a pretty fun guy.

==Anecdotes About Kharn==
[[Image:New_Comissar.jpg|thumb|right]]
As I always say, Kharn the Betrayer was pretty fun to be around, and contrary to popular belief he actually had a sense of humor as well. Probably the best example was in the middle of the campaign during a sweeping of an Imperial Guard command post, with Khorne Berserkers and our Red Rivers company marching directly into the defensive fire. The closer we got, the more apparent it became that the only thing holding the Guardsmen together was a grizzled looking Commissar in full uniform, one gun turned on us and another firing on any of his men who looked like running.

Kharn was at the tip of the assault, and so he got to the Commissar first, plucking the screaming officer up by the neck and holding him over his head.

Then, out of nowhere one of the other berserkers grabs the Commissar's legs and roars "MAKE A WISH!". Well, as you can imagine everyone on both sides forgets about the fight, and watches Kharn and this other Khorne-worshiping marine just start pulling on this Commissar at both ends, the old man screaming out oaths and curses like you wouldn't believe! You could almost hear the sound of flesh tearing and bone snapping over the cheering.

Then, Kharn just let go. Totally not expecting it and pulling with all his might, the Khorne Berserker just falls backwards and starts tumbling with the near dead Commissar into a damaged hellhound, his armor grating off it and sparking!

Well, after the explosion we all turned back to Kharn, who had managed to keep a hold of the Commissar's fancy hat. Ol' Kharn put it on, and damned if it wasn't the funniest thing any of us had ever seen... till he turned to us and bellowed "I'M THE NEW COMMISSAR" at us.

They tell me five thousand traitor guardsmen died that day before someone could take that hat off him.

What a kidder!

----
[[Image:Kharn loev khitten.jpg|thumb|right]]
Contrary to popular belief, Kharn the Betrayer was a pretty fun guy to be around during a blood-letting campaign. Sure, he'd get so wrapped up in the blood-lust that he'd butcher friend and foe alike but it's not like you didn't get a fair warning from his name or anything.

I served in the traitor guardsman legions known as the Red Rivers, because we got sent in first to soften up the positions and you could see our progress by the red river of our blood. I kept running into Kharn during one of the bigger scourging campaigns, and he wasn't dickish about the whole him being a space marine and me being killed by laser-lights or angry glances at all.

The first time I saw him, I was on perimeter patrol at one of our forward outposts, we'd just overrun a Sororitas non-militant chapel, and the Slaanesh boys were shirking their duty to go rape the sisters in a clearing near the chapel. I was watching from afar when Kharn strides up, cool as you like holding the largest stone pillar I've ever seen. I turned back and the whole fucking chapel was falling down. He'd just ripped the goddamn thing right out and was carrying it on his shoulders!

Then, if that wasn't insane enough he went and hefted this whole pillar through the air, and crushed the entire congregation of rape in the name of Slaanesh, defilers and victims all in one go.

I was just standing there dumbfounded when Kharn looked at me, as though noticing me for the first time and yet not surprised by my presence at all. He held his palm out, and I obliged him a high five. He'd earned it.

Damn well shattered every bone in my arm doing it though.

Nice guy, that Kharn.

----

The second time I crossed paths with Kharn was in a later stage in the campaign. We were besieging one of the major hives of the planet, and I tell you what that place was locked up tighter than a Dark Eldar's pants. My commander, Oxlor the Vilest, was stuck in an argument with some idiot leader of some group of Death Guard. You could see the smell it was so bad. I could tell Oxlor wasn't happy, since everyone knows the Death Guard's answer to everything is to just walk at it and watch your bits fly off. Not so good for us soft and squishy guys.

Out of nowhere, this big hand grabs our commander by the shoulder and just hefts him aside, three whole trenches back where he rebounds off a basilisk. The crew was so shocked they fired off a round on a horrible trajectory, and the shell streaked high into the sky.

Kharn the Betrayer just dusts himself down, and then picks back up what he had been holding. Now, I'm no techpriest and I never will be, but I know a nuclear warhead when I see it. I don't know where he got it.

No one says anything, so The Betrayer just punches the Plague marine in the face, and stuffs the warhead into the leaking mess of his stomach while he was still reeling.

No run up, no preparation. He just fucking throws the other marine into the air at the hive. For a moment it actually looks like he's thrown the warp-damned fool OVER the hive, but as he flies over the top the basilisk shell comes down and spears him through the whole hive! There's a low boom noise, the ground shakes, and then the whole hive IMPLODES!

Everything clears, and Kharn looks at me, and I feel about one foot tall. I don't know if he recognized me, but he leans down and whispers. Kharn WHISPERS to me.

"I was trying to hit the Emperor's Children on the other side" he confides in me, and then nudges me as though it's supposed to be our little secret.

I was in traction for a MONTH.

----

I've been fairly insistent to you readers out there that Kharn the Betrayer was a pretty fun guy to be around. I know he gets a bad rap for the whole 'slaughtering his own allies' thing, but unless you've been there after a battle with him you don't really appreciate how much he strives to please his chaos god.

It was after one of our many conflicts that the Red Rivers Infantry were preparing to march on to our next destination. Never mind that it was half the planet away, we as traitor guard didn't get transport vehicles. So as you can imagine when someone declared they'd found an Imperial Drop-ship in working condition everyone clamored and fought to get a free ride to our next engagement.

Knowing full well I was too far away to get on the ship, I stayed with some of my fellow traitors at the battlefield. I'd seen Kharn after the battle, and as soon as we'd gotten our marching orders he was picking up corpses and putting them down elsewhere. This took an hour before he was satisfied, and seeing an audience he happily led us up onto a hill as the drop-ship flew a pass over the top of us, probably to gloat. Proudly, Kharn gestured to the battlefield, and then waved up at the drop-ship with his other hand. I peered down the hill, and realized he'd arranged the bodies to make out words, so many killed to form:

On your drop ship hull<br/>
I planted a melta bomb<br/>
Blood for the Blood God<br/>

It was at that point the drop-ship erupted in a violent plume, and crashed down on top of the haiku. Roaring in a cheer, we lifted Kharn up together and made to carry him to the next battlefield as a sign of our appreciation and devotion to his art.

We got about five paces before our spines liquefied, but Kharn didn't hold it against us for trying.

Seriously, what a guy.

----

I've always said Kharn the Betrayer is a heck of a guy in spite of his reputation. But even I have often wondered just which side of him was more prevalent. The great guy or the butcher?

I got my answer when The Red Rivers sacked an Adeptus Mechanicus primary research facility. Aided by renegade tech priests we opened the bulkhead doors of the Head Magos's research chamber, and ended his life. In this room was a huge throne that the Magos used, a massive collection of wires around a cold metal frame used to interface with the facility.

Grinning, a guardsman jumped onto the throne and yelled "HEY GUYS! I'M THE EMPEROR!". We barely had time to chuckle before hearing a loud clang behind us.

Behind us stood Kharn, his axe having slipped from his grasp as he stared at us. We weren't sure what was happening till frothing blood began to spill out his helmet.

With a roar of anger that drowned out our own cries Kharn rushed the throne, ripping it out of the wall over his head as the guardsman remained sitting in it screaming helplessly. With a cry of "REVENGE!" Kharn drove the entire throne through the floor, utterly destroying it and the guardsman in an explosion of gore. We ran.

I was too slow and the other guys sealed the bulkhead behind them, leaving me alone and cowering as Kharn advanced. He was almost upon me when he stopped and burst out laughing at me.

"APRIL FOOLS!"

Rattled but relieved, I burst into an exhausted laugh at the clever gag. Suitably pleased, Kharn slapped me on the back and praised me for being such a good sport. The Tech Priests tell me they've never seen a bulkhead breached by a human body before, but that's Kharn for you. Heck of a guy.

----

It was a normal day, just like any other, almost. Commissars were shooting their men, Slaanesh followers were orgasming to death, and you know, the same shit. But there I was, with the Red Rivers, sitting on some shithole of a bunker, when we just heard this loud crash. Of course, we thought it was an attack, it being in the middle of the damn night and all. A few of the guardsmen jumped next to the bunker wall, while I hit the ground. Suddenly, another crash was heard, this time closer. It sounded like it came from the inside of the bunker.

“IT’S MY DAY OFF!” Kharn spoke as he broke the reinforced concrete wall, smashed a few guardsman directly in his path, and ran off. I didn’t know what had happened until a bit later.

Across the land, several hundred kilometers out, lived a farmer, who took care of his heard of bronto-cattle. When he awoke this day, he grabbed his boots, put on his hat, got his tools, and stepped out the door, where several hundred dinosaur sized cattle were flipped on their backs with their insides scatter around the field. Carved in each one with what looked like a rusty fence post was the words “IT’S MY DAY OFF”.

Blood of the virgins, skin of the innocent, bones of the pure, all laid out in a complex pattern. The cultists performed the exact ritual, syllable to movements, all in accordance with whatever Tzeentch had wished. Skies were darkening, wildlife fleeing, storms that shouldn’t happen this time of year started appearing. Then, out from the bushes, Kharn leapt, slamming a cultist into the arrangement, and instantly turning him into liquefied pulp. Across the land, a sound of a giant record stopping was heard.

A single cultist watched as Kharn continued on his way, oblivious to the ritual.
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that”. He was then instantly destroyed.

The commissar watched the mountains surrounding him. Fortified in his city, waiting for the forces of Chaos to come, all he needed was to wait until-
“ENEMY SPOTTED. FIRE ON COORDINATES” A voice screamed through his earpiece. The basilisks quickly responded, firing at all the coordinates shouted through the comm. units. Eventually, they exhausted their ammo.
The Commissar looked on the mountains, expecting to see the ruined army of Chaos. Instead, he saw nothing but splintered trees and rocks, and the craters from the barrage, which seemed to spell out “IT’S MY DAY OFF!”

----

You know, being a part of a Chaos Campaign isn't just one great big conga line of decadence and killing like they probably tell you in the cults. There's lots of long moments where you're sitting in some shattered ruin waiting for the sorcerers to finish divining the next place to move. During these times I try to find whatever books I can and just read a bit, I help it takes my mind off the sounds of the Slaanesh worshippers playing 'Piggy In The Middle' with someone they've caught (in the middle of *what* I won't say). Sometimes you just get propaganda, but occasionally you find something someone has hidden away from all eyes. Heretical stuff.

I found this one book in the city of Majoris Prime, bound in black leather with a big funny looking cross on it. It was full of verses and stories about a single God who did a lot of crazy shit to his followers, then had a son and killed him. It was like reading about Tzeentch without the tentacles.

That was about the time Kharn found me, apparently bored with beating the Slaanesh worshippers with their piggy. He asked me what I was reading, and unable to quite explain it I passed the book to him. The berserker flicked through the first few pages idly, then as though captivated kept flicking through rapidly, head turning as he ran down the pages at lightning speeds as though possessed... I waited for him to say something, but for the longest time he just seemed entranced.

At last he looked up, staring not at me but into the distance as if struck by a revelation. I was scared, more than usual.

"I..." he started, "I have completely forgotten how to read."

Then he dared me to eat the book. A great time was had by all.

----

Down time between raids can be pretty boring, especially in the case of the Convent Complex of Decapitus IV, where the victims kill themselves before you get to them, and the crazies have nothing to torture. The Slaanesh guys are the worst. Without something to toy with they get all antsy and bother everyone.

The Red Rivers had deployed to a hillside nearby the complex, mostly just taking stock of our own dead's gear and handing it out to one another. Most of us were Khorne boys, but there were always a few that had to be different.

I was doing a quick search for more gear when I heard a series of almighty squeals, and a pair of bodies hurtled through the trees to my feet. I didn't have time to do anything before a head also came flying out and struck me in the face with an almighty crack. Broke my nose and knocked me dizzy, hell of a hit.

When my head cleared I found Khârn standing over me, with a small beret on. In one hand he had a paint brush, the other a little board with paints on it (though they were all just shades of red).

"SORRY ABOUT THAT" Khârn yelled, much to my chagrin with the headache and all. He explained that he was painting, and the two fellows (Slaanesh, typical) had been giving him critique when all he wanted was a bit of peace. Once I'd gotten my bearings, I stood up and he showed me his work.

"Khârn it... it looks like a painting of my eyes?" We shared a deep stare for a moment, then Khârn looked back to his work with a sigh.

"I WAS TRYING TO DRAW A DUCK"

----

The Annual Red Rivers costume party is more than just a traditional excuse to get drunk and invite some Daemonettes over, at least to me and those few of us who lived through last years: it will forever serve as yet another shining example of how Kharn's just a great guy to party with.

There we were, in the middle of fun. The disco light was going, and we had an entire (formerly) Imperial planet all to ourselves to get dressed up and destroy in a drunken orgy of bad techno music. Everyone had shown up, it seemed, and even Abaddon was fairly relaxed; he waited a whole three hours before killing the DJ, and we were all drunk enough at this point to not mind the smell wafting over from the plague marine contingent, who spent most of the evening moping over the fact none of the daemonettes would sleep with them.

As I'd said, the party was in full swing when all of a sudden there was a horrible scream of rage, and then in through the window came everyone's favorite party guy, Kharn. He'd painted his armor all pink, and he'd ripped shreds of carapace off something to make a crude tail coming off his back. In the window he came, and landed squarely on the Daemonette I'd spent the last half hour chatting up, crushing her to a pulp and covering me in a spray of bits. He then proceeded to stand there for the next eight hours of the party, ignoring any and all attempts to lure him into conversation, or to get off the daemonette, who was still half alive after being crushed.

I was kind of despondent after that, and spent the rest of the night drinking while Kharn spent the rest of the night standing still. Finally, just before we were about to dim the lights, Kharn took in a deep breath, and in a tone of horror and fear, shouted, "LOOK OUT, SLAANESHI WHORE!"

The entire room burst into laughter. Man, what a kidder.

----

"WHERE IS MY EQUERRY?!" Angron's roaring voice echoed throughout the ship, buckling two bulkheads and killing an astropath within the 'anger zone'. The World Eater's Primarch stormed through the corridors with his head held high, smashing it through several ornate archways as his feet battered and dented the floor with each step like the beating of a war drum.

Captain Khârn of the Fifth Assault Company, Equerry of the World Eaters had been admiring the ornate workings of a dreadnought sarcophagus, a low sigh issuing forth from his helmet as he heard his lord approaching. With a thunderous crash, Angron threw his weight against the loudly snoring construct, sending it bowling into a nearby row of its fellows, knocking them all about like skittles.

"TREACHERY! BLOOD! TRAITORS!" Angron screamed, flecks of spittle splattering all over the equerry's armor, "I'LL HAVE MY REVENGE! IN BLOOD! I'LL KILL HIS FAMILY! ALL OF THEM!"

"What's wrong, my lord?" Khârn asked, his voice low as to not startle his already over-stimulated commander.

Angron thrust a small plastcrete cube in front of the Captain's face, three little movable rows covered in colored squares. Even if it weren't practically being crammed up his nose, Khârn could clearly make out the shapes of Angron's armored fingers forced into every tile.

"WHO MADE THIS?! I WANT TO EAT THEIR SKULL AND LINE MY BED WITH THEIR BONES! BLOOD!" Angron screamed again, utterly soaking Khârn head to toe in spittle.

"I AM AWAKE?! IS IT TIME TO BATTLE?!" One of the dreadnoughts cried out, the sarcophagus merely wobbling on its side without being connected to its proper frame, as Angron and the Tech-priests continued screaming at everything.

"And that" Khârn the Betrayer spoke to his audience of Red Rivers infantrymen, as he ineffectually plinked a skull full of blood against his mouthpiece and spilled it all down his front, "is why I decided to start killing everyone"

----

There were victory celebrations, that much I can remember. The sort of debased, bottom-scraping indulgences they never let us have back before we became traitors. The alcohol flowed, and if some guy or girl in the Rivers strayed too far from a group they usually disappeared. Then the blood and other body fluids flowed.

I woke up on some busted old bed in the remains of what was the Planetary Governor's palace, some of my blood-and-filth encrusted clothes half-draped out a nearby window. My head was ringing and as I groaned and rolled to my left, I came eye to eye with what I thought was one of those Sororitas. For a moment my heart skipped a few beats, and I damn near made a mess of the sheets.

It all came back slowly. She was one of those holy ladies once, but she realized she liked burning and cutting things more than actually praying. Now she was just like me, only with more tattoos to Khorne and a rusty nail put through her lip.

"Hey there beast" that fallen lady grinned, before kissing me on the cheek and giving me a big ol' scar in the process with her 'jewelery', "You guys were phenomenal"

"'You guys'?" I groaned out, whilst rubbing my cheek. It was then I became aware of a shuffling behind me, and hurriedly I rolled over.

There was Khârn, still in full armor, reading a newspaper that was a week old, a cigar jammed in his helmet's respirator.

"Hell of a lay" the fallen sister remarked.

Kharn glanced up from his newspaper and stared at me. After a very long moment, he put out his fist. I did the same, and as we brought our fists together, we both shouted "RESPECT KNUCKLES!" as I felt my entire arm shatter.

----

Despite all the stories and rumors of him slaughtering his own men, Kharn was actually a fun guy to be around. 

I remember a game he would play. "Toss the guardsmen" it was called. Simple game really. You basically picked up a guardsmen tied to a pole and tried to throw him as far as you could into a field of big pointy metal spikes. Whoever threw the farthest would win. Kharn encouraged me to give it a shot and despite my misgivings about how weak I was, the big guy talked as if he believed I was the best person for it. So not wanting to disappoint him (and also figuring "Why the hell not?") I gave it a go. Not too surprising, I was too weak for the game and only managed to lift the pole (and the guardsmen tied to it) up just enough to have both fall on top of me. At first the Chaos marines started to laugh, well at least some of them did, the others made loud grunting noises that sounded like they were trying to loosen some phlegm.

Kharn then walks up to me and says "Here, let me show you how it's done.", and proceeds to grab the pole. He takes a step back and launches it into the air. It keeps getting higher and higher and higher. It continues its accent into the sky until eventually; we lose sight of it and just assume that it landed in some random location. As I’m beginning to stand, up alarms go off. We hear from some random cultist that some random regiment from the Imperial guard is attacking us. I get my gear and run into position. I run into a trench and begin to watch for any movement. It takes only a few minutes before I begin to see guardsmen charging towards us. The Khornite cultists and marines do their thing. Screaming “BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” while they hack and bludgeon the loyalists into bloody chunks.

Now, during this, I become aware that Kharn has been standing next to me the whole time. He does nothing but stand perfectly still, neither looking at me nor saying a word. Now during my little space out, the sound of a Baneblade heavy tank approaching us reminds me that I was in the midst of a battle. As I see it get closer and closer to us, I begin to slightly freak out as to how I’m gonna possibly deal with that. The thing stops to aim and proceeds to blow up a group of Khornite berserkers and cultists. Now absolutely terrified, I attempt to run for better cover but find myself paralyzed with fear (along with a need to find a clean pair of pants). Kharn then gets on one knee; rests his hand on my shoulder, points to the Baneblade and says, “You’re going to love this”. Then a most peculiar sound catches my ear. I hear a slight whistling sound, like a basilisk shell falling back to earth. Kharn then points to the sky and sure enough I see a faint object falling toward us. I take it for a shell at first, but then I realize that there would be more if the loyalists were launching an artillery strike. So ruling that out, I continue to stare at it. It gets closer and closer until I can make out its shape slightly. To my amazement, it’s the very same guardsmen tied to the pole from before. He continues to fall, getting faster and faster. Finally against all odds he actually hits the Baneblade and penetrates the armor! Now I’m not sure what exactly did it, and I do have some ideas, but whatever the case was, the tank explodes. The shrapnel and debris go flying and rip several guardsmen (a quite a few cultists as well) to shreds. Kharn turns his head to me and says in the calmest voice, “And THAT is how it’s done.” He jumps out the trench and charges toward the enemy.

Every single one of them died.

Fun guy, that Kharn.

[[Category:Chaos]] [[category:Stories]] [[Category:Warhammer 40,000]]