"Let's follow Kharn the Betrayer into battle, he probably got that name ironically."

>"Let's follow Kharn the Betrayer into battle, he probably got that name ironically."
I can imagine this happening maybe once. How does he still get people to follow him?

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His fellow bezerkers give no shits.

Also he actually challenges enemies and encourage his men to fight him.

Hes only the betrayer because the World Eaters on Skahalatx or whatever were being cowards and hiding from the lethal cold.

how's his suit stay sealed and environmentally protected with his left arm exposed like that

he should die every time he steps out into a hostile alien environment regardless of his spess muhrine enhancements

Khorne says no.

And revives him if he dies in battle which is rare.

The Blood God cares not from when we it flows. Kharn is nigh on the mortal avatar of Khorne, and probably his #1 non-daemonic follower. It's like asking why a bunch of desert islamists would follow their batshit leaders on their crazy schemes. It's what their god wants - constant combat and martial pride. Who or why he's fighting had little to do with the _how_, which is what Khorne - and, by extension, Kharn - actually care about. Those who share this worldview are drawn to him. He doesn't command or strategize himself, anyway.

Khorne cares not from where the blood flows, just as long as it does.

Except for the part where he's very capable of planning and scheming. It's just that those plans involve shoving a chain blade into people's chest cavities and tearing the heads of their bodies to offer to Khorne. THere is nothing wrong with planning as long as you don't act like a bitch about it.

Isn't he a mindless killing machine most of the time? I thought the whole tragedy of Kharn was that he went from a pretty cool and witty guy to the poster boy for Khorne Berzerkers.

He's honestly not as mindless as people think he is, and that's what really makes him dangerous.

I know he's still got cunning and tactics left to an extent, i'm wondering about his old personality. Crusade era Kharn seems like a completely different character, is there even a trace left?

You'd think that Khorne wouldn't give two shits and would start looking for another champion if he died. Lucius and Slaanesh make sense, given than xir loves to pamper zir worshipers. Khorne is supposed to be the hermaphrodites opposite and rather blunt and uncaring.

They are all women who think they can change him.

Kharn hasn't actually had a confirmed death since Terra. Even that was more of a coma then a true death. It is fully possible that he's just that good.

>implying his left arm isn't just so fucking huge that it completely blocks the hole in the suit

Look, all I know is that besides the name, he's actually one helluva guy.

>It is fully possible that he's just that good.
Isn't there a short story where he says he killed one million loyalists during the siege of Terra?

>1 million
Guardsmen or the like right?

The Wrath of Kharn story I believe. It's on 1d4chan.

>I was the first to stand upon the walls of the Imperial Palace. I was the last to be borne away from Terra, my body broken by the slaying of one million of the Emperor’s lackeys through the breach at Lions Gate. None shall ever surpass my count.
I would think it includes guardsmen

Looking into it, The Weakness of Others by Laurie Goulding

Fragments in the back. If he has moments where he has to it can come up, IE, can't get through this unless you actually use your head, then can go on killing.
His battle tactics are also fully unaffected, and he can pull them out when they would be wiped out otherwise or "just rush 'em" would be a complete waste of dudes with no damage.

>The Weakness of Others.

Thanks user, will give it a read.

link to book?

I'll let you know when I find it. At work, will pursue in a few hours.

i appreciate that

Its in the 15th Birthday Collection, just a short story.

>THE WEAKNESS OF OTHERS
>by Laurie Goulding

>The flamer is bulky and unfamiliar in my grip, and far heavier than my holstered pistol. Half-remembered rote training guides my hand. Open the reservoir, adjust the ignition angle. Thumb the safety and squeeze the trigger.

>From within, there are more screams and the reports of unspent bolt rounds detonating in their magazines. The heat of the flames drives steam from the frozen earth all around.

>Movement.

>The crash of an armoured body flailing to the ground. Footfalls. Frantic.

>Hefting the flamer in my off-hand, I swing Gorechild in a wide arc. My timing is perfect – the shrieking teeth of the chainaxe greet the burning man in the instant that he emerges from the archway, cleaving through armoured gorget, meat and bone. His head strikes the floor before he would even have registered the fresh pain of the blow.

>The tally reading in my visor scores the kill. 1,302.

>A small red skull icon flashes next to it as the telemeter transmits the location. I do not know who receives the data. All I know is that my kills are always waiting for me when I return, fresh skulls jumbled into heaps at my arming post.

>None shall surpass my count this day.

>The old Legion had encouraged ‘The Contest’. Certainly, it was already an established tradition when I first stood before Centurion Gruner upon the training grounds of Bodt, along with the other recruits assigned to his instruction. A Terran-born veteran of the Unification Wars, the Master of Neophytes had eyed us for a long while before growling in his clipped Jermanic accent.

>‘You are weak. I see that just from looking at you. Stronger than your friends and family ever were – you can thank the Emperor for that. But I don’t think a single one of you has the fire inside.’

>We shuffled nervously under the gaze of this giant, his bare torso rippling with transhuman strength and sporting an elaborate tattoo of some canine predator tearing into its prey. Though our enhancement surgery scars were still fresh, we had been deemed ready to begin our legionary training.

>‘We do not start with boltguns or the axe,’ he continued. ‘And I don’t tell you how to tie your boots. Instead I show how the War Hounds know who is best.’

>From the burlap sack at his hip, the centurion produced an object and held it out to us reverentially. Empty eye sockets stared from between his oversized fingers in the pale dawn light, the smooth bone polished almost to a sheen.

>‘All legionaries compete in The Contest. The rules are simple – first to reach one thousand skulls wins.’

>Murmured excitement rippled through the group. One neophyte raised his hand.

>‘My lord, what do we win?’

>Gruner shrugged. ‘Don’t know. No one has come close enough yet.’

>As he carefully replaced the skull, I warily raised my own hand.

>‘My lord… where do we get the skulls from?’

>The tattooed giant had roared with laughter, drawing the attention of those other legionaries and neophytes close enough to witness my first humiliation.

>I dismiss the memory with several twitching blinks. My senses return. I shoulder the flamer and quicken my pace.

>The main causeway is treacherous underfoot, the blood which before had run freely upon the flagstones now freezing in the plummeting temperatures of the Skalathrax night. Hoarfrost rimes the armour of the fallen, marked with darker patches of cinnabar where Gorechild has done his work.

>True enough, I have never known cold like it. Not the deep cold of the tundra on Gedren V, nor the icy gales that scoured the mountain passes on Tekeli. This is a cold which burns and bites. A cold which threatens to steal away the fire inside.

>But not from me.

>Victory or death. The sons of Angron will never again know defeat. I will not allow it. Our foes will fall, or we will offer ourselves to Khorne in their stead.

>To the west, the keening of another sonic attack echoes in the darkness. My boots skid upon loose debris as I double back towards the sound, the rage building within me once more. Fulgrim may have forsaken them, but his bastard children shall pay the price for hi–

>Too late, I spot the ambush. Time slows.

>The shadows around me erupt in a blaze of bolter fire, shells detonating and peppering the flesh of my bare arm with shrapnel. In the milliseconds before I leap, I count three shooters and another concealed figure.

>My pistol is in my hand before I leave the ground, and a burst of incandescent plasma vaporises the head of the nearest attacker. Momentary regret over the loss of the skull. 1,303.

>A stray bolt strikes my breastplate, sending my leap wide and forcing me to dispatch the concealed warrior with an improvised backhand strike. I whirl around to cleave through the boltgun of the third before slamming him insensible to the floor and hurling Gorechild to the left. The chainaxe bites deep into the throat of the last legionary, and arterial blood strikes the vaulted roof of the arcade. 1,305.

>The rage fades. I stand over the prone warrior as he scrabbles to find a weapon.

>Words. Anger. His face is familiar to me.

>Gruner.

>Backed into a corner amongst the bodies of our fallen brethren, he speaks of madness and of betrayal. He curses me, the berserker champion who would strike down his own Legion once more.

>Whelp-master. Who are you to doubt me?

>I was the first to stand upon the walls of the Imperial Palace. I was the last to be borne away from Terra, my body broken by the slaying of one million of the Emperor’s lackeys through the breach at Lions Gate. None shall ever surpass my count.

>The Contest is over. I won.

>The weakness of others is the reason we were defeated. Weakness in the other Legions, and our own. If this is all that remains of the honour of the World Eaters, then I am glad to be called their betrayer.

>1,306.

And that's it.

the collection has a few other stories im interested in. is it in one of the megas?

Because Khorne worshippers are all about being the baddest mother fucker on the block. They're keeping Kharn close because they want to learn how he fights and eventually challenge him.

Khorne worshippers are like hippies or commies. They all gather together from all walks of life for the slaughter and then disband. They dont care too much and respect eachother in general. Before the nu-canon came into being, khorne was also the god of might and war, and berzerkers weren't retarded raging kids, but tactically adept warriors that lived for war and carnage.

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This one, in Anthologies

You wouldn't ask that if you have seen his twitter account.

thank you my son

As the first reply stated, the title was earned from only one instance of betrayal. Which any "proper" Khorne worshiper would agree that those fuckers deserved.. Pussy ass World Eaters.

Space Marines survive in the vaccum of space, (Primarchs can survive reentry into the atmosphere AND landing) and breath poison like it ain't no thang. It takes A LOT to get them to care.

Not to mention Kharn is a Chaos God's Champion. The rules will not apply to him because his god has enough reality breaking power to fix it. C'mon, Lucius literally cannot die because if you kill him, you become him with no way to avoid it. Typhus has a hive of murder flies living inside him, and Ahriman can't stop epicly fucking up. If you want to call out a Champion on their bullshit, Kharn is the least guilty.

>zir
>xir
I know you're doing it ironically; but cut that shit out.

Khorne cares for his followers that Khorne right. In the same way that all of Veeky Forums assumes Slaanesh is sex drugs and rock n' roll, it's really a lot more nuanced than that. Khorne isn't about just tearing heads off and making blood spill, it's about HONORABRU COMBAT (to an extent. Stealth is A-OK, but Sorcery is for bitches.) To that note Khorne isn't 100% anti-psyker, he's just anti-battle magic; someone still has to summon deamons and get mutations to get the job done right.

Unfortunately for Khorne's public image, he's got the World Eaters as his poster boys, and because of his influence coupled with the nails, they're mindless jack offs who just want to lop your head off. You don't see EVERY Slaanesh-lover rocking noise weapons, it was just inherited from their Legion days.

There weren't 1 million Space Marines, let alone Loyalist Marines, let alone Loyalist Marines at Terra. That number is primarily Guardsmen.

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>Space Marines survive in the vacuum* of space
For a very short time, and then they go into a hibernations thingy.
>Primarchs can survive reentry into the atmosphere AND landing
Only Vulkan could do that because he's a perpetual. Any other primarch would've died a thousand times over.

It's stated that only the most batshit insane World Eaters are willing to fight alongside them. And at that point they don't care from where the blood flows or whose skulls Khorne gets.

>my body broken by the slaying of one million of the Emperor’s lackeys through the breach at Lions Gate.
Wasn't he just foddered by Sanguinius at the Eternity Gate?

I like to believe it was Sigismund who did him in.

Sigismund is the best, no doubt, but i love the idea of probably the most wanked (by both writers and fans) champion of Chaos pathetically dying like fodder to the windgust of Papa Sang tearing a Lord of Change in half or something. Not that i don't love Kharn, but he could really use humbling like that.