A Night to Remember, and a Battle Won.

One month after the Siege of Terra, Khârn ye Betrayer was still stationed on Terra. He was alone in this, what few World Eaters that had followed him had either died or have yet to be found amongst the devistation. But that was not what worried him at the moment.

Khârn had a... lapse in his memory as it seemed. One moment he was discussing things with the Lady Primarch of the Space Wolves, and the next he found himself naked and aching in his quarters, haphazardly laying amongst the scattered peaces of his armor. Only when he had managed to don said armor did he realize the gravity of the situation.  Three whole days had passed, and Khârn was rightly confused.

When he emerged from his quarters, he was greeted by the sight of a Space Wolf. "Hail, Betrayer." He had said. "I am Bjorn."

Khârn nodded in response. "Wolf. What has..." the words died in his throat as what must have been the Nails sending a pang of pain through his head.

The Wolf, Bjorn, chuckled in response. "Was that the so called 'nails' or the aftereffect of the Mjod, eh? I am told they are similar." Khârn was once again left confused. Mjod? He remembered no such... ah.

Khârn dug his armored fingers into his temples, hoping to ease the pain. "It is the Nails most definitely." Bjorn laughed.

"Either or, either or. Anyways, I was sent to make sure you were still alive. The Primarch can be... rough." This caught Khârn's attention.

"What happneded?" Khârn asked, a pang of worry lacing his voice, "Don't tell me I fought your Primarch." And lost as it seemed. Felt like it anyways.

The Wolf let out a hearty laugh. "Ah, something like that, I suppose. Come then, you and I are set for a hunt today."

Khârn let himself smile, at least one pain would be settled today.


Two hundred years later, Khârn the Slayer had found himself summoned into materium. His chapter, The Warhounds, only called upon him when the needs were truely dire, for the strain of keeping the Slayer Lord bound to the material world was great upon the Librarians. But the situation warranted this risk.

Waves upon waves of Daemons have been pouring through a hole tore into the fabric of reality. And the chapter had found itself unprepared. One hundred of the two thousand marines had already perished, and the Chapter was in dire need. The Slayer had been summoned, and the Daemons broke.

The first company had accompanied him in a break through attempt, and had met with overwhelming success. Where the Slayer walked, the Daemons broke. Some fled into the warp, others desperately tried to fend off the assault. It was for naught.

But even with the might of the Slayer with them, the Warhounds suffered. They had been outnumbered from the start, and the numbers were only swelling. As it looked, the Chapter was to bleed that day. Maybe even its last. But fate was a fickle thing.

From on high came drop pods of tundra blue and sun yellow. The arrival of the Space Wolves had sent cheers through the ranks of the Warhounds. More Brothers and Siisters to fight beside was always welcome. This was when Khârn met the warrior.

He was a full head taller than his brothers, and he swung his chainaxe as if it were built for children. Khârn then knew he was of the Children of Russ. The direct descents born from the Lady Primarch herself. When the Wolf drew close his bare face seemed to ring familiar to the Slayer, features that seemed so close to... something. But these thoughts were for later.

When the battle was over, Khârn had removed his helm, allowing the breeze of the planet to wash over his face. When he spied his reflection in a nearby puddle of ichor and blood, did he finally realize what had happended. The Wolf had looked like him! How eluded him until the memories of that night two hundred years ago came to the surface. As the Slayer faded into the Warp, he once more saw the Wolf.