Chaos Champion of the Emperor

Summery: A Chaos God's control over their subject's mind is an absolute rule. But you know what they say, "There are exceptions to every rule…"

Helloooo people! See the newest project that has been on my mind for some time, but be forewarned that this story won't be updated or expanded upon much until I get more sources to gather research data about the universe.

This story will be based around the one thought that I've always had for the Warhammer verse: has there ever been a traitor to the Chaos forces?

Just reread the summery above if you think this is a bull-shit idea.

The whine of my chain sword, battered and chipped as my own soul, sings the herald of their doom.

The roar of my Bolt pistol sounds the passing of another life as it's bolt passes through their head. Time has taught me well on my aim.

I hear the Space Marines in the trenches behind me shouting over their vox's.

"Look! The Chaos Traitor!"

I can't help but smirk under my white, horned helmet at the name. It fits me oh so well too. And I can imagine perfectly what their faces look like right now. Torn, because they just don't know what they should do with me.

Should they ignore me and keep fighting?

Should they provide covering fire?

Should they shoot me for my-?

Something slams into my back and launches me across the field like the ball in that old Holy Terra game golf.

As I tumble across the ground after landing, I feel my weapons ripped from my hands, and I can't help but feel enraged at that fact.

…No. I've got to calm down or I'll lose what I've fought so hard to regain.

It took me a few seconds to collect myself before getting back up again. I noticed that much of the fighting around me has stopped. All the Chaos Marines and the Daemons had made a rather large circle around both me and the one who launched me.

An extra large Chaos Dreadnought slowly stomped it's way towards me, the chain bolter on one side oddly silent. But that silence was more than made up for with the rusty screeches of it's skeletal arm as it powerfully squeezed the air

"Traitor! Do you have any last words to say?"

I stand calmly, only stating, "Emperor Protects."

I could hear the hissing of pain or revulsion to that statement from the crowd around us. I glance up at the Space Marines and see them pointing all of their guns at me.

I knew it.

I've always known it.

This will be my final battle.

I will make it my grandest yet.

"SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!" The Dreadnought brought itself up to deliver the final blow against me with it's 'boney' fist.

The only answer I have to this is the very pledge I once swore so long ago.

What is my life?
My honor is my life.
What is my fate?
My duty is my fate.
What is my fear?
My fear is to fail.
What is my reward?
My salvation is my reward.
What is my craft?
My craft is death.
What is my pledge?
My pledge is eternal service to you, Emperor!

I took the Plasma grenade from behind my back and toss it into the open vents of the Dreadnought. The explosion was spectacular.

Turning my back to the flaming wreckage, I slowly pulled out the knife from it's hidden sheathe, staring at the seething hordes of Chaos in front of me.

"Here I stand. Here I fight. Here I die. Emperor forgive me."