Legends of the Crusade
Khârn the Betrayer
Oh, fell Angel of Disregard,
flee not now from the rage you wear.
Loyalty was never a choice you made,
Hope your only crime.
The Ire of I
I name thee turncoat, blackguard... traitor. Abandoned of thine kin, scorned of your blood, you chose truth to oneself over principal and ideal. Fie! Leave now Eversworn, knowing only that the chains you loathe are pulled by yourself.
Few could deny the benefits of rage when the blood begins to flow. Fewer still the purity that follows, clean and without thought to mar its need to release. Khârn, however, would take up the mantle of wroth and feed its flame from candle into inferno.
The Betrayer, a title given and a title more than earned, it reeks of apathy and despair, sorrow and violent fear. In truth, however, it is one of wisdom, for Khârn stood lonely in a world devoured by philosophy, recognising the dangers evident within the poisoned chalice of belief.
Reliant only upon himself, rejecting any who would attempt to lead, the Betrayer wears only the fetters he made himself. Furthering the dreams of others without concious thought, guided only by malcontent and dark fortune.
As such does Khârn practice the art of the storm, the tempest wind and tidal wave. No architect of destiny, no strategist nor subtle manipulator, he is the advent of absence through which others follow, devouring their fill from the carcass left in his wake.
So begins the story of the Crimson Knight, the flame that devours until all is ash. Their mark in history guaranteed, etched in blood and stone, each tread remembered and feared for the ash and ruin that followed.
So begins the story of the Kin-Strife, one of the greatest warriors to ever be. His present born from a past of pain...
The future sacrificed for the pyre abhor.
Born to the Leash
Born to Terra, raised amidst the rad-wastes and broken minds of bitter warlords, Khârn was selected to be amongst the first new recruits to a Legion bound by destiny for violence. A child of the Unification Wars, his childhood was one of poverty, strife and anguish.
Despite this however, the future promised hope for the first time in centuries. A warlord calling themselves the Emperor of Mankind had begun his war across the planet, conquering and claiming all those who stood before him.
As this new dominion fell over Khârn's land, those young and healthy enough were taken from their homes, sworn to a new cause that needed fresh blood for the mill. The Legiones Astartes, a new force for conquest the likes of which had never been seen.
So was the Betrayer taken from his birthplace, the first of many to be delivered to the War Hounds. As he grew up, the pacification of Terra was finished, the conquest of the stars begun, and his training started on the world of Bodt.
Gruner was to be his teacher, a veteran of the wars that had long plagued Earth. The War Hounds showed little mercy in their regime, pushing the subjects onwards with ruthless vigour, for barely had the first surgeries been completed before they were sent for their training.
Still, Khârn persevered and passed each trial placed before him. Eventually he was introduced to the Contest, the morbid competition whose challenge set forth praise for whomever first collected one thousand skulls. No prize was stated, for none had ever come close, but pride drove the Legion onwards, pride and dedication to those most ruinous arts.
Hardened however, Khârn still possessed a degree of innocence, and when in curiosity he asked from when the skulls must come, only mockery and derision greeted him. The answer was simple to those who killed for sport, and from this did the Betrayer learn his first lesson... It did not matter from whence the skulls came.
Bloodlust
Despite this mistake, a jest taken at his expense that would long haunt him, Khârn proceeded to pass his trials, achieving the status of full Astartes. With the Great Crusade now in full sway, it did not take Khârn long to show his prowess, the legend of his superlative skill in battle growing with each broken blade and bloody kill.
Eventually would he take up the mantle of Captain, leading the 8th Company into battle. His fame for close quarters violence and brutal engagements had become legendary, even amongst a Legion notorious for its love of visceral murder. Few alive could name a more proficient killer, fewer still would pray to meet them, for the Betrayer had no equal in the realms of slaughter and ruin.
That is until one fateful day, pushing forwards the boundaries of humanity, word came of a wonder long sought after. Angron, Primarch and genetic father of the War Hounds had been located upon the world of Nuceria, and as one the Legion rushed to attend him.
Alas, dreams of a loving sire, a noble being with poise and elegance, were shattered. The Emperor travelled down to the surface and soon returned with the Primarch in tow. No Prince of War was this...
But an Angel, Red and Broken.
Harrowed
Caged on board their
capital ship, Angron
raged against the night.
Stolen from his fitting death, forced to
abandon those he loved, the Red Angel
sought only silence and the void. One by one
did the Captains of the War Hounds descend into the pit, never once returning as their blood lent fuel to the fire within.
Finally was it Khârn's time to descend. He expected nothing more than what had already occured, and heavy with the weight of imminent demise did he enter the chamber of his lord. Violence met him, swift and bloody, intermingled with moments of silent solace. Broken and battered, shattered and near torn to pieces, Khârn endured his sire's rage, even as he felt life slipping from his form.
This calm complacency surprised Angron, or merely calmed him in equal turn. Never once did Khârn beg, never once did he reach for his blade, instead only regaling the Angel with tales of war fought across the stars.
In turn he learned of those who had fought besides his sire, rebels and gladiator slaves dedicated in their goal of freedom. They had been known as the Eater of Cities, and so in turn did Khârn and his brothers become his Eaters of Worlds.
Emerging from the darkness with Khârn, broken and bloody, Angron took upon himself the mantle of his Legion. Thus began a new age of war and destruction, so dark as to scar the very night with its passing.
In recognition of his success in bringing the Primarch back from the brink of madness, Khârn was awarded the dubious honour of Equerry, diplomat and seneschal for the World Eaters Legion. Mostly a symbolic position due to the very nature of the Astartes he represented, The Betrayer proved effective counsel, even as he did little to mitigate his fathers more brutal tendencies. This was not a man of peace after all, for Khârn followed blood first and foremost.
Like Father...
The Great Crusade continued on, with no time for celebration made. The Imperium prospered, and those who fought beneath its banner was celebrated as heroes across the stars. Unfortunately, stretched thin as it was, cracks began to emerge within the realm.
Gehenna, a once compliant world, had severed all communication with Terra. Curious as to what had happened, the World Eaters were dispatched to uncover what darkness had befallen the world, and to dispel it by any means necessary.
Upon arrival, it became apparent that the local population had rebelled. Modifying their own form through arcane science, creating an Abominable Intelligence to guide their path, they had fallen fully into the arms of divergent science.
War was the only answer, and Khârn joined in the fray with abandon. Thirty-One Hours, had Angron declared, and then the world would be reclaimed. Alas, the techonlogy of their foe was great, the weapons brought to bear potent and unknown...
The clock ran out.
...Like Son
Forced to return back to their ships, the World Eaters stared in horror as Angron screamed for their heads. Decimation, he called it, and already once had it been inflicted. Centurion Mago, the officer in charge of the attack, refused to sanction the order.
Angron lost his mind, turning on his sons with brutal violence as scores slain in moments. Only the intervention of the Librarius brought his massacre to an end, but from the silence inflicted upon him would not awaken.
The Legion fell into shock, even as Khârn followed through with a plan as dark as it was dangerous. Long had he sought to replicate those implants forced upon Angron, the Butcher's Nails, in a vain hope of understand his sire. With the technology of Gehenna however, the near certain fatality of the procedure showed some promise of success.
Mago, however, upon discovering this, was horrified. He ordered all further attempts to stop and, when he was ignored, launched a full attack upon the Apothecary responsible. It was to no avail however, much to histories regret, and so emerged reborn Khârn, Captain of the 8th.
Forced to relent, Mago began to plot, even as Khârn ordered more Astartes to undergo the surgery. Angron would awaken from his slumber and, with his enhanced sons by his side, unleash havoc upon the world below.
The Kin-Strife
The war came to an end, the dark secrets of Gehenna destroyed. Khârn and Angron were then faced with a further problem. Mago, along with many other veterans from Terra, begged the Red Angel to relent, to forbid any further implementation of the Butcher's Nails.
Merely amused, Angron refused, and violence born of chemical rage and betrayal erupted across the fields. Amidst the screams and battle cries, Khârn met Mago in the middle of the field, duelling the ancient commander and rending the life from his form. With the clatter of ceramite, the growl of a final curse, the Betrayer stood victorious as the rebels surrendered to their lord.
The future had been decided, and so did the World Eaters submit to their lord, surrendering their souls to the Butcher's Nails, condemned now only to rage and hate. This would not be the end of the matter however, for
word would soon spread of the depraved violence
that marred their every move.
A disagreement turned violent between Wolf
and Hound, censure from the Lords of Terra, and a
reputation soaked with gore, Khârn rose through it
all. Infamous for his relentless nature, feared for his
brutal skill, no simple murderer was he but an
executioner, an ender of life.
The Betrayer's star grew ascendant, placing him alongside those heroes such as Sigismund and Argel Tal, his cunning bringing acts of note into myth and legend. None could best him in battle, and those few who might match blades with him refused, for the only battle Khârn cared for was the battle between life and death.
The Crusade continued on, but the end was nigh. Khârn grew morose, bloodier and even more psychotic. The Nails raged within his skull, never relenting, as piece by piece was he devoured whole. Day by day, pleasure faded bar for those acts violent and inhuman...
To Kill, Maim and Burn.
The Revenant Rage
It was of no surprise then, that the foundations upon which the Imperium were built would come crashing down. Championed as humanity was by the ravening madmen of the World Eaters, the betrayal of Horus was inevitable. Mankind was split in twain, the Dark Gods thirsting for violence and war, as upon the worlds of Istvaan was destiny written made manifest.
An ambush was planned, enacted against those still claiming loyalty to the Emperor, and for the first time did brother turn wholesale upon brother. The skies above lit with fire, the very air ignited as the Traitors turned hellfire upon their kin.
A single message sent just in time, however, would thwart the plans of the Warmaster. Alerted to the imminent betrayal, the Loyalists took cover, surviving the onslaught as they began preparation for the struggle that was to come.
Unwilling to wait for cowards to resolve their problems from afar, Angron broke free of chains bound by loyalty and oath. Leading his host down, Khârn close behind, the World Eaters crashed upon the surface, a wave of rage and howling blades.
Wholesale was the slaughter, through tunnels and glittering spires, across ashen plains and buried ruin, Khârn was let loose as a snarling beast of vindictive spite. Blood flowed, bodies fell, and Khârn stood lonely amidst the storm.
Battle after battle did he move through, a wolf without a pack. Where he tread, carnage came and like the spectre of havoc unleashed did he turn madness and strife to the still calm of death. That is, however, until the final days of his life.
Deep within the rubble, the final stand of the Loyalists prepared to meet their end. Here would Garviel Loken, once a member of the Mournival, a rising star within the Sons of Horus, clash against the frenzied Betrayer. Axe against blade, ruin to match a world collapsed, each fought knowing no was future left for themselves.
A tragic twist of fate, however, brought final
the end of Khârn. The ground rumbled, the
engine quaked, as he was impaled
upon a tank adorned with
blades and dark spite. So
did Khârn pass screaming,
from this life
into the
next,
raging into the
dark goodbye.
These Shackles Sundered
Or so destiny prayed. Alas, the Betrayer would not fall in such a way, too much left to destroy, too many left to rend. Whether through spite or iron will, Khârn would survive, and to the Heresy would he plunge headlong in madness.
He would be sent to Prospero, tasked by the Warmaster to recover a wolf medallion, once a gift to Magnus, now a weakness that could not be tolerated. While accepting of his role, Khârn had an ulterior motive for this journey, for the Lords of the Thousand Sons knew much, skilled in the arts of healing and restoration.
For Khârn had grown forlorn, caught between harrowed quiet and screaming riot, and sought now a cure. Prospero, realm of the Magisters, would have the answers he needed.
So did he descend upon the desert world, now broken and shattered in the aftermath of its scouring. A small group of refugees had come before him, and quickly did he ambush them, cutting down many but capturing their leader before curse nor loathsome spell could be cast.
His captive was Captain Kalliston, of the Thousand Sons, and the two engaged in debate, back and forth trying to unlock the secrets the other kept quiet. Desperation drove Khârn on, fear burying the rage that burned within his veins, screamed for the head of his savior.
Finally admitting to what he desired, the removal of the Butcher's Nails, Kalliston told truly that such was unlikely. The machines required were long destroyed but and he alone still held the knowledge of how it could be done.
Hope flared within Khârn, and fast did it strike. It could not be allowed, the future was writ. A scream and roar, fists rent skin and bone, the Nails refused defeat. Kalliston
died laughing, knowing the truth of
Khârn's damnation...
It was his choice.
Purgatory Lost
Barren of life did Khârn rejoin his kin, empty of thought did he burn his way through Ultramar. He scoured all in his path, vain in the hope that another could end him, the choice stolen by the Nails that would not quiet.
It was here that he met Argel Tal truly, forming a fast friendship with the Word Bearer whose soul was split in twain. Both of them were monsters made by their own choice, both drowned in their regret. Both served out of apathy, seeing no other choice but to follow the dying star... Both were failures, rejected perfection at the hands of gods that never truly cared.
War came and swift they followed, from one slaughter to the next. On Armatura, where Angron faced near death, would Khârn retrieve the discarded axe of his father. Later would he bear it into battle, ignoring the traditions of old that stated such weapons be cursed, for Khârn feared no witchcraft or sorcery... He was damned enough on his own.
Or so he thought. Argel Tal was murdered, blood spilt to ensure no redemption could ever be found for the Betrayer. Treason was in his blood, turncoat by nature, and no kinship could ever endanger such destiny.
Erebus, Architect of Destiny, Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers... Dead man walking. Khârn sought him out and found him. Without rage nor bluster, no anger or madness wroth, he challenged the Chosen of the Gods, and piece by piece removed him from this world.
Though Erebus would escape through sly trickery and magic, Khârn would not care. The Nails sang and the Betrayer drowned, lost now and forgotten. What emerged from the ruins would cast shame upon even the greatest workings of the Thousand Sons, for no automaton could equal the hollow knight of ruin that remained.
Empty, he cared not as his father achieved divinity upon the plains of Nuceria, cared not as he was sent after blood kin in search of skulls for a throne to build. He cared not when the call came for the last battle they would ever fight.
Carrion Call
So long had passed since Istvaan, and yet barely had Khârn noticed. On Deluge however, reality returned once more, the Iron Warriors sent to marshal the errant forces of the World Eaters for the Siege of Terra.
Perturabo, the Lord of Iron, called upon those oaths sworn to Horus, as Khârn laughed. "Leave now, or perish, no words can reach our father... Only blades." Such were not threats, but warnings, and not made idly.
The Iron Warriors could not be convinced however, and as rejection met their demand, violence spilled out across the world. Daemon and brother, darkness and shadow, all collided upon the surface as reality bent before its masters.
Sanity won out however, ruin rent as the Warp laughed left the two brothers battered and bloody. Finally agreeing to join Horus upon Ullanor, there travelled Khârn and his legions already damned, there and then to Terra.
Arriving to the midst of a world aflame, Khârn watched as Terra burned. No stars filled the sky, only the wreckage of a thousand ships, no music but the riot of Chaos and decay. The Siege of Terra had begun, the last bastion of humanity engulfed by rage and hate.
Ill-minded was Khârn, what little control he had managed to retain quickly fleeing in the face of such brutality. The Nails burned bright in his mind and his mouth was sour with the taste of blood.
When the first attack was launched, Khârn waited eagerly to step forth onto Terra, but the Warmaster had other plans. Mortarion was summoned, and the Death Guard deployed, as Angron lost his mind.
Literally berserk, the Daemon-Primarch stalked through the corridors, hunting those loyal to him until the pipes dripped blood and gore. Concern grew as it became apparent that Angron would not relent, and so Khârn sought out his sire, before the ship itself was devoured.
Storm, Then Thunder
Finally would the two meet, a beast of flame and smoke facing off against the unliving son, both hollow in their strife. Axe bared to fang and blood, Angron roared as he unveiled his hatred of Khârn. Stood before the Red Angel was a mortal, broken and surrendered, and yet still he stood, the most favoured son.
Scorned once by the Emperor, ignored now by Khorne, Angron could not bear to be cast aside again. As water burned black against his flesh aetheric, he swore to take from the Betrayer that title he had never wanted; Chosen of the Blood God, Champion of the Brazen Throne... Khârn the Betrayer, who stood now against his sire who once he loved more than any other.
The battle was brutal and bloody. Khârn stood no chance against his father, still mortal as he was. No Primarch was he, no spirit of the foulest kind, just a son stood ruined before the storm.
But a sharp mind can overcome any odds, and Angron was lost beyond reason. The Betrayer's armour shattered, his weapon lost, Khârn tricked Angron into defeat. A teleport homer placed at the last second sent the Red Angel into the Abyss, spiralling through the Warp into a prison aboard the Night Lord's ship.
Too late had it come to consider his actions however, for the call was sounded, the battle-cries roared. Khârn would descend to the world below, and let loose the rage of old. Never stopping, never slowing, Khârn charged on into the thick of war for one last time.
Against the Lion Head's Spaceport would he go, battering against the defences both psychic and material, cleaving flesh from bones, rending both living and dead. Frothing like a rabid dog, charging on without concern, the Betrayer through all in his path.
None seemed capable of stopping him, nor willing to even try, for those whose shadow graced his form soon turned crimson in their final cries.
The End at Last
Even Sigismund, Champion of the Imperial Fists, could not halt the path of the berserker. A peerless warrior, the Black Templar could not master the white rage that had devoured the Betrayer, not without dying himself.
Only Rogal Dorn himself was able to halt this rampage, tossing Khârn aside into the rubble, screaming even as his body was broken. Such meant little to the Betrayer however, for his form was powered now not just by sheer will, but by the dark power of the Crimson Lord.
Rescued by Abaddon, no word of thanks were given, for off the hound went once more, ground breaking beneath his tread as he sought more death to satiate the rage inside his skull. Against the Sisters of Silence would he burn, slaying their commander in a ghastly duel. Against the Army and the Astartes would he scream his murder, every battle fought, every conflict started, led now by the madling son and his thirst for blood.
The war became a whirlwind, a blitz of sonic rage and artillery thunder. The eye was upon Khârn, for where he stood, no foe remained, peace even as he sought the tides that span around him...
And then it was over, Horus slain, the forces of Chaos broken as the Emperor lay dying in his victory. Cries of defeat, of betrayal of rage and anguish echoed across the battlefield. Legends of the Dark Gods, masters of nothing but ash and dust, each splintered and fled.
All except Khârn, lonely in his death. Atop a pile of corpses was his cairn made, his body peaceful for the first time in so many decades, his mind at last resting from the strife that knew only noise.
So ends the saga of the Red Ruin, never once accepting of the chains he chose. So ends the story of the Hollow Knight, devoured by himself. So ends the legend of Khârn...
And begins now the story of The Betrayer.
A New Dawn
Perhaps through dark magic, the blessing of the Lord of Skulls. Perhaps through sheer will and bloody rage, or perhaps through destiny and fate, regardless, it would not matter. Khârn's body was recovered, and so Khârn woke once again, free and unbound by oath and burden.
Though the Heresy ended, the Betrayer's rampage knew no end. On Skalathrax would he turn flame against the Emperor's Children, and then against his own, earning the title Betrayer truly and shattering any hope of cohesion either force may have aimed to maintain.
Throughout the Eye of Terror did he hunt, cutting down every Champion he could find, ending early any destiny writ great, any challenger to a life he cared not to continue.
In the Diamor Campaign, as Cadia burned for the last time, Khârn was there, his Butcherhorde beside him. Though eventually driven off, he cared not as the system was engulfed in madness and vile magic. Blood was spilled, heads were taken, murder was made, and Cadia shattered to the laughter of Dark Gods.
And on a countless thousand worlds would he linger, a revenant incarnation of destruction without equal. Human and Xenos, great and small, legendary and forgotten, none were spared the axe, none were spared death.
Even gods were not safe from the hunger in his mind,
for on Tsadrekha did he claim the skull of Celestine, shattering those effigies to a hope he had spat on so long ago. The war could only continue until nothing was left.
But the hour is late, and history repeats once more. The galaxy lies split in twain, and blood sings loud for one last battle. Khârn marches forth once again, and this time he has no intention of ever returning. His soul for the darkness, his skull for the throne...
Blood will flow.
Gorechild
Once one of the legendary axes of Angron, Gorechild was discarded after it was destroyed. Possessing the teeth of a Mica Dragon, it is capable of rending through any material with ease. Combined with its prodigious size, it is a weapon that knows no equal in the arts of brutality.
Art
1: Khârn, pre-heresy by d1sarmon1a
2: Khârn The Betrayer by d1sarmon1a
3: Unknown
4: Legacies of Betrayal Cover
5: Kharn, pre-heresy by d1sarmon1a
6: Unknown
7: Unknown
8: World eater by Diamondaectann
9: Trials of Azrael Cover
10: Kharn the Betrayer by Orniris Terensi
Afterword
I hope you all enjoyed this installment of the 40K Lore by Jackeyblob. If you have any feedback or criticism, please don't hesitate to let me know. The next chapter will be taken from the suggestion most interesting to me, so I look forward to hearing from you then.