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    Kharn the Betrayer

    Character » Kharn the Betrayer appears in 1 issues.

    Kharn the Betrayer is a Character of the Warhammer 40K Universe. After the World Eaters fled to the Eye of Terror following the Horus Heresy, Kharn served as Khorne's favored son and became his avatar of death and destruction.

    Kharn Respect Thread

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    Strider1992

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    #1  Edited By Strider1992

    Kharn The Betrayer

    No Caption Provided
    • Age: Unknown but over 10 thousand years
    • Species: Astrate turned Chaos
    • Powers: Healing factor, superhuman speed, strength, senses and agility. Unparalleled combatant.
    • Standard Gear: Gorechild, Plasma pistol, Demonic armor, Aura Of Dark Glory, Blessing of the blood god

    Let The Galaxy Burn (Book):

    Takes boltgun fire (essentially small missles) without any problem at all.

    ‘BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!’ bellowed Khârn the Betrayer, charging forward through the hail of bolter fire, towards the Temple of Superlative Indulgence. The bolter shells ricocheting off his breastplate did not even slow him down. The Chaos Space Marine smiled to himself. The ancient ceramite of his armor had protected him for over ten thousand years. He felt certain it would not let him down today.

    During this single battle Kharn was confirmed to have killed over 2248 opponents:

    He scrambled up the loose scree of the rock face and vaulted over the low wall, planting his boot firmly into the face of a defender as he did so. The man screamed and fell back, trying to stem the flow of blood from his broken nose. Khârn swung Gorechild and ended his whining forever. ‘DEATH IS UPON YOU!’ Khârn roared as he dived into a mass of depraved cultists. Gorechild lashed out. Its teeth bit into hardened ceramite, spraying sparks in all directions. The blow passed through the target’s armor, opening its victim from stomach to sternum. The wretch fell back, clutching at his ropy entrails. Khârn dispatched him with a backhand swipe and fell upon his fellows, slaying left and right, killing with every blow.
    Frantically, the cultist’ leader bellowed orders, but it was too late. Khârn was in among them, and no man had ever been able to boast of facing Khârn in close combat and living. The numbers 2243, then 2244, blinked before his eyes. The ancient Gothic lettering of the digital death-counter, superimposed on Khârn’s field of vision, incremented quickly. Khârn was proud of this archaic device, presented by Warmaster Horus himself in ancient times. Its like could not be made in this degenerate age. Khârn grinned proudly as his tally of offerings for this campaign continued to rise. He still had a long way to go to match his personal best but that was not going to stop him trying. Such pathetic oafs were barely worth the killing, Khârn decided, lashing out reflexively and killing those Slaanesh worshippers who passed too close as they fled. 2246, 2247, 2248 went the death counter.
    Men screamed and howled as they died. Khârn roared with pleasure, killing everything within his reach, reveling in the crunch of bone and the spray of blood.

    Gets hit with a Lash of torment (a whip designed to take possession of your mind) and shrugs it off with sheer force of will and and bloodlust:

    Leather-clad priestesses, their faces domino-masked, emerged from padded doorways. They lashed at Khârn with whips that sent surges of pain and pleasure through his body. Another man, one less hardened than Khârn, might have been overwhelmed by the sensation but Khârn had spent millennia in the service of his god, and what passed through him now was but a pale shadow compared to the battle lust that mastered him. He chopped through the snake-like flesh of the living lash. Poison blood spurted forth. The woman screamed as if he had cut her. Looking closer he saw that she and the whip were one. A leering daemonic head tipped the weapon’s handle and had buried its fangs into her wrist. Khârn’s interest was sated. He killed the priestess with on back-handed swipe of Gorechild.

    Demonstrates his Blood Blessing by resisting sorcery and hypnotism from a Slaanesh Lord:

    As the cult leader spoke, imaged flickered through Khârn’s mind. He saw visions of his youth and all the joys he had known, before the rebellion of Horus and the Battle for Terra. Somehow it had all looked so clear and fresh and appealing, and it almost brought moisture to his tear ducts. He saw endless banquets of food and wine. For a moment, his palate was stimulated by all manner of strange and wonderful tastes, and his brain tingled with a myriad pleasures and stimulations. Visions of diaphanously-clad maidens danced before his eyes, beckoning enticingly.
    For a moment, despite himself, Khârn felt an almost unthinkable temptation to betray his ancient oath to the Blood God. This was powerful sorcery indeed! He shook his head and bit his lip until the blood flowed. ‘NO TRUE WARRIOR OF KHORNE WOULD FALL FOR THIS PITIFUL TRICK!’ he bellowed.

    One of Kharn's most impressive close combat feats. Taking on upward of 30 Khrone berzekers in close combat at the same time:

    Suddenly the rest of the berserkers were upon him. Khârn found himself fighting for his immortal life. These were no mere Slaanesh cultists. Newly tainted though they might be, they had once been worthy followers of Khorne, fierce, deadly and full of bloodlust. Mighty maces bludgeoned Khârn. Huge chainswords threatened to tear his rune-encrusted armor. Bolter shells tore chunks from his breastplate. Khârn fought on, undismayed, filled with the joy of battle, taking fierce pleasure every time Gorechild took another life. At last, these were worthy foes! The body count swiftly ticked to 2460 and continued to rise.
    Instinctively Khârn sidestepped a blow that tore off one of the metal skulls which dangled from his belt. The Betrayer swore he would replace it with the attacker’s own skull. His return stroke made good his vow. He whirled Gorechild in a great figure-of-eight and cleared a space all around him, sending two more traitors to make their excuses to the Blood Good. Insane bloodlust surged through him, overcoming even the soporific influence of the Heart of Desire and for a moment Khârn fought with his full unfettered power. He became transformed into an unstoppable engine of destruction and nothing could stand against him.
    Khârn’s heart pounded. The blood sang through his veins and the desire to kill made him howl uncontrollably. Bones crunched beneath his axe. His pistol blew away the life of its targets. He stamped on the heads of the fallen, crushing them to jelly. Khârn ignored pain, ignored any idea of self-preservation, and fought for the pure love of fighting. He killed and he killed.
    All too soon it was over, and Khârn stood alone in a circle of corpses. His breathing rasped from his chest. Blood seeped through a dozen small punctures in his armor. He felt like a rib might have been broken by the last blow of that mace but he was triumphant. His counter read 2485. He sensed the presence of one more victim and turned to confront the figure on the dais.

    His blood blessing again allows him to shrug of the enticement of a greater demon before using Gorechild to suck out its soul:

    The Betrayer advanced upon the throne. It pulsed enticingly before him. Within its multiple facets he thought he saw the face of a beautiful woman, the most beautiful he head ever seen – and the most evil. Her hair was long and golden, and her eyes were blue. Her lips were full and red and the small, white fangs that protruded from her mouth in no way marred her perfection. She looked at Khârn beseechingly, and he knew at once he was face to face with the Daemon trapped within the Heart of Desire.
    Welcome, Khârn, a seductive voice said within his head. I knew you would triumph. I knew you would be the conqueror. I knew you would be my new master.
    The voice was thrilling. By comparison, the cult leader’s voice had been but a pale echo. But the voice was also deceptive. Proud as he was, mighty as he knew himself to be, Khârn knew that no man could truly be the master of a daemon, not even a fallen Space Marine like himself. He knew that his soul was once more in peril, that he should do something. But yet again, he found himself enthralled by the persuasiveness of a Slaanesh worshipper’s voice. Be seated! Become the new ruler of this world, then go forth and blast those meddlesome interlopers from the face of your planet.
    Khârn fought to hold himself steady while the throne pulsed hypnotically before him, and the smell of heavy musk filled his nostrils. He knew that once he sat he would be trapped, just as the daemon was trapped. He would become a slave to the thing imprisoned within the throne. His will would be drained and he would be a decadent and effete shadow of the Khârn he had once been. Yet his limbs began to move almost of their own accord, his feet slowly but surely carrying him towards the throne.
    Once more, visions of an eternity of corrupt pleasure danced in Khârn’s mind. Once more he saw himself indulging in every excess. The daemon promised him every ecstasy imaginable and it was well within its power to grant such pleasures. He knew it would be a simple thing for him to triumph on its behalf. All he had to do was step outside and announce that he had destroyed the Heart of Desire. He was Khârn. He would be believed, and after that it would be a simple matter to lure the Khorne worshipers to ecstatic service or joyful destruction. And did they not deserve it? Already he was known as the Betrayer, when all he had done was be more loyal to his god than the spineless weaklings he had slaughtered. And with that the daemon’s voice fell silent and the visions stopped, as if the thing in the throne had realized its mistake, but too late.
    For Khârn was loyal to Khorne and there was only room for that one thing within his savage heart. He had betrayed and killed his comrades in the World Eaters because they had not remained true to Khorne’s ideals and would have fled from the field of battle without either conquering or being destroyed. The reminder gave him strength. He turned and looked back at the room. The reek of blood and dismembered bodies filled his nostrils like perfume. He remembered the joy of the combat. The thrill of overcoming his former comrades. He looked out on a room filled with corpses and a floor carpeted with blood. He was the only living thing here and he had made it so. He realized that, compared to this pleasure, this sense of conquest and victory, what the daemon offered was only a pale shadow. Khârn turned and brought Gorechild smashing down upon the foul throne. His axe howled thirstily as it drank deep of the ancient and corrupt soul imprisoned within.

    Kharn killed 2487 in just a days fighting and this is apparently not his personal best:

    Once more he felt the thrill of victory, and knew no regrets for rejecting the daemon’s offer. 2487. Not his personal best, but still a good days work.

    Galaxy In Flames (Book Pages 94-95):

    Kharn Vs Loken: Kharn appears to be winning the fight until he is impaled on a Land Raider:

    It was later revealed that despite being hit by almost 100tons worth of tank and having his chest completely torn out Kharn's healing factor had kicked and he regenerated.

    Chosen Of Khorne (Audio Book):

    Kharn Vs Flesh Tearer: Kharn one-shots a Khorne/Blood Angel champion with a small blade. The same Champion that was seen butchering Khorne Berserks that same day. Great skilling showing from Kharn.

    Kharn stood unspeaking. He appeared to be sizing up the Flesh Tearer in return. Tarrogar raised his voice over the din.
    "If the Betrayer is to fight then let it be an even contest have him put aside the Gorechild"
    Mavin scoffed. It was a desperate ploy but before Mavin could give voice to his derision Kharn replied.
    "Agreed. Give me a weapon you deem a suitable replacement"
    Tarrogar gestured to one of his World Eaters a scarred veteran with a double headed power axe across his back.
    "Drogen, give the Betrayer your blade"
    The named berserker made to reach for his axe but the warlord halted him. A savage smile on his lips.
    "Your sword Drogen. Give him your sword"
    The World Eater, Drogen unhooked the short blade strapped at his waist and tossed it into the circle. Kharn retrieved it and drew it from the simple leather scabbard. It was forged from unadorned dark steel with a wide blade and a plain hilt. Tarrogar's laughter was taken up be several of his retinue.
    "The fool thinks he has already won" Mavin muttered before Brond stepped forward.
    "This is an insult" he made to unhook his own axe but to his surprise Kharn shook his head.
    "No" he spun the short sword in his hand testing the weight of the blade. "This will suffice"
    Mavin threw an alarmed look towards Brond. The Warlord simply shrugged as Kharn moved to the edge of the circle and laid Gorechild on the hot sands at Mavin's feet.
    "Touch it and you'll die" Kharn warned before turning back to the task at hand.
    The Flesh Tearer watched him closely eyes narrowed to points, taking in every nuance of his movements and stride as Kharn stalked back to the center of the fighting circle. Kharn drew up on the sand flexing his great muscular arms and neck. He beckoned to the beast.
    "Come its time to draw blood"
    "BLOOD!" with a scream of bestial rage the Flesh Tearer lunged forward. The beast was fast, supernaturally fast and barely seemed to touch the ground as it moved. The mighty chain glaive it wielded whirred deafeningly as eager for blood as its master and the Flesh Tearer brought it down overhead in a deadly arc. Kharn made no attempt to dodge the blow or feint to the side, nor to bring his blade up to block the powerful strike. As the Flesh Tearer screamed its horrifying war cry Kharn flipped the sword around into a reverse grip in his left hand and at the very last moment dropped down to one knee. The churning barbed teeth of the glaive tore threw the air only a millimeter from his forehead as he slid under the blow. Before the Flesh Tearer could turn for a second strike Kharn rose and still using his forward momentum plunged his blade into the side of the Flesh Tearer's head. With the flat of his right palm pressed against the butt of the hilt he guided the sword as he rammed it home with the full weight of his body behind it. Kharn roared and twist the hilt so sharply that the blade broke off inside his opponents skull. The Flesh Tearer was dead before his body hit the ground. Silence descended over the area. It had all happened in barely a few seconds.

    Kharn kills the Terminator Lord Tarrogar:

    With a roar Kharn barreled into the Warlord from behind and Gorechild bit deeply into the back of Tarrogar's right leg. It's shrieking teeth spraying blood and shards of ceramite onto the arena floor. the blow did not fell him but he staggered and swung around lighting claws slashing through empty air. Kharn avoided their touch side-stepping neatly around his heavier foe and aimed another blow at the same leg striking hard into the weak armor at the back of the knee. Tarrogar howled i agony crashing to the ground his leg almost completely severed. Kharn was upon him instantly. He pinned the hulking beast his knee pressing one claw to the floor. He brought Gorechild close to aim his final and decapitating strike. With his free hand Tarrogar caught the mighty chainaxe by its hilt as Kharn brought it down towards his throat. The servos in his guantlet whined in protest such was Kharn's strength but he held fast the axe a safe distance away from his face. "You loose. Little man" Tarrogar grinned evilly and began to squeeze Kharn's fist in his servo powered gauntlet. Bare knuckles began to creak and crack under the terrible pressure. Kharn snarled wordlessly but smoothly drew his plasma pistol and aimed it into the joint of Tarrogars elbow. "No Devourer. You loose!" There was a flare like a miniature blue sun and Mavin was forced to cover his eyes. The Warlord had turned away from the shot but he not howled in pain and impotent rage. Armor, flesh and bone ran together dripping onto the ground and small flickers of flame danced in the charred joint where his arm now ended. Kharn tossed away the severed arm and gripped Gorechild in both hand. It was hard work to get at his enemies thick bull-like neck protected as it was by his terminator armor nut Kharn was not to be dissuaded. As Tarrogar cursed and spat Kharn worked the keening chainblade back and forth liek a demented surgeon. Sending razor shard of ceramite flying. With a sickening wet sound as the teeth bit home Tarrogar was silenced and bright red blood sprayed over Kharn's armor plate and exposed limbs. With a savage roar of triumph he hacked the Warlords head from his body and atrial pulses gushed from the ragged stump of his neck. Kharn lifted the severed head up high and roared.

    Random Feats:

    I'll update this tomorrow as i'm to tired to go through anymore books atm.

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    Pierpat

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    Strider1992

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    #3  Edited By Strider1992
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    Pierpat

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    @strider92: thanks for the call, that one is even better!

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