The Blooded Hand left the Warp at a location undisclosed even to Kharn himself, although he knew that it was well within the reaches of the Eye of Terror. Kharn stood on the foredeck of the bridge of his ship, surveying the huge arcs of lightning surrounding them. All manner of Warp lightning and disturbance danced across the background of the visage playing before Kharn's eyes and those of his crew. Before them was a planet, and the fleet assembled around it was of a group that Kharn himself hadn't seen before anywhere but Terra.
There were dozens of ships, of all manner and size. Kharn's own vessel was dwarfed by three in particular, all of which were surrounded by a retinue of smaller and tiny ships that were exchanging battle blows and small salvos in hatred for each other. Kharn let out a pleased growl as he found other ships decked in crimson and brass and with the rune of Khorne upon their great sides. Kharn ordered the direction of his own ship to be diverted toward those who also served Khorne. He was very pleased to see that not everyone had gone unnoticed, and that his fellow berserkers would manage to have sway within the council that was to take place on the surface of this Chaos-twisted planet.
The Blooded Hand entered firing range of the other ships in the service of Khorne, and communications flickered to life behind Kharn. He spun to see a servitor with a large viewscreen grafted onto his chest striding forth and turning the thing on. Immediately, the face of another champion of Khorne was revealed, and Kharn turned his entire body to face the man's image.
'Kharn of the World Eaters?' the champion asked.
'You know my name, but I don't know yours. I should know the name of a fellow berserker,' Kharn replied, letting Gorechild rest across his shoulder lazily. The other champion yelled something to a few men in the back of his own command deck and then turned his attention back to Kharn.
'I am Dhar Bloodgorger of the Skull Takers. It is a bloody honor to meet another champion of Khorne,' said the man, clamping a fist to his chest. Kharn regarded him in the same manner and the viewscreen went to static. The servitor nodded to Kharn and scurried back to its duties as the champion turned back to the view of the planet ahead. Not for the first time, he wondered what the Fallen could be planning. Kharn was still bitter over being killed by one of the original Dark Angels on Terra after a teleportation field had brought what few green-armored warriors there were to be had. His bitter hatred and distrust of the Chapter ran deep, and even one who served Chaos was not going to earn his trust, ever.
Planet-side, Kharn met up with the gathering of berserker champions, and they had obviously been waiting for him. There were the Apostles of Minthras, whose armor was red with a silver trim. Their champion was flanked by two bloodletter daemons and the man himself carried a banner of red with a black skull on it, the forehead of which was branded with n eight pointed star of Chaos. Another faction was the Claws of Lorek, who adorned black armor with a red trim. The Skull Takers had traditional red armor with a brass trim, and their champion, Dhar, was impatient to get into the huge, warped building that was to be the council chamber until further notice.
Kharn strode up to the huge building with the other Khronate champions, hoping that this council would end sooner rather than later. He wanted to be done with this invasion and be back to his own accord and devices. He did not like being drawn into a conflict where he was not the deciding commander. And looking around at his fellow berserkers, he could tell that they didn't like this either. They would much rather be slaughtering things of their own choice. Who knew, maybe Kharn could recruit some of them to the World Eaters and begin rebuilding a chapter consisting of purely berserkers and close combat infantry?
Kharn threw the thoughts aside as he entered the massive blue structure made of stone. He had seen hundred of Gothic-styled buildings destroyed and turned to rubble in his time, but this was bizarre even so. The entire building, the interior as well, resembled an Imperial Gothic structure, but it was ruined and destroyed as well. The stones were uneven and warped all manner of color by the taint that surrounded this system. Gargoyle and daemon faces shifted and screamed with agony and pain from every angle, and some of them even had dark, murky liquid spewing forth from their mouths. Even more bizarre were those that looked as if they were daemons of Nurgle, faces completely unrecognizable save for a gigantic maw for each of them, filled with shark teeth and snake fangs alike.
Kharn and the others made their way through the hall, trying to ignore the strange and provocative noises filtering through the faces lining the wall. The ceiling had gotten progressively higher, and it looked as if some of the gargoyles that hung by clawed feet were actually, livng and breathing things that had spilled over from the Warp. Many watched with stone gazes as Kharn glared all around, expecting some manner of trickery or sorcery to betray him. He had very little to lose from being wary here. All of his rivals and mortal enemies had gathered here for a meeting, which could only end in bloodshed.
He sighed with displeasure, finding his only comfort to be that there were others devoted to Khorne with him. He wasn't going to have to fight alone if a disagreement called for such a thing. Vaguely, he wished that he had brought more than Veridun, one of his trusted Chosen Bloodletters. The berserker walked silently, a twin-headed power axe in his tightly-closed fists. Kharn could always trust this berserker to help him in any fight. Veridun's brute strength and fury had won many battles and turned the tides of several campaigns. Kharn could only recall a few times where Veridun hadn't killed at least fifty foes in a battle.
But for the moment, Kharn was waiting for this damned hallway to end! He could see straight ahead, but it seemed like he was turning. He knew that the Warp had many twisted, often impossible features, such as moving forward while falling down. Kharn could grasp only the most basic complexes of the Warp, and he held to them. No Thousand Son was going to trick him here. He understood that there was sorcery here, and the Warp did not bend like this at random. No, Kharn was sure that sorcery was keeping the real location of the council hidden until his mind was unaware.
As if by its mere being thought of would cause it to be revealed, Kharn found himself walking into a massive, domed room with a circular table made of black stone, with similar black chairs set around it. Most of these chairs were already filled by those who had come to earn their place in the council. Kharn saw that several sorcerers of Tzeench were seated at one section, their blue and gold in stark contrast to the deep green and red banner that was set upon the wall behind them. The black walls were lined with such banners, and many trophies of skull sand weapons and helms of all kind. Absent were those of the Space Marines, save for a single green one of the Dark Angels pattern.
Off in another section were three champions that talked amongst themselves. Kharn recognized their colored armor as the Night Lords, the Word Beares, and the Iron Warriors. The Night lord had a large, swirling cloud of black miasma and smoke about his form, and a double-headed flail in one hand. The Word Bearer held a massive human flesh-bound tome written in blood runes in one hand and a massive, spiked staff in the other. He seemed to be a sort of Dark Apostle, although he was not said spiritual leader of the legion. The Iron Warrior was a massive marine at the very least, decked in terminator armor. His head was encased in a large, if not excessively thick helmet with deep, sunken eyes that glowed yellow. A power hammer was slung over his shoulder lazily, green light emitting from its head.
'Bloodmaster, the followers of the Hated One have not arrived,' Varidun said, apparently searching for the Shaaneshi cult champions. Kharn shrugged at the empty seats that had the symbol of the pleasure god before them. Shaanesh was not known to be wise or talented at anything besides having things rammed into every orifice upon his tainted body. Kharn couldn't wait for the day that Khorne would shove his huge runesword down the god's throat and end his defiled existence. Looking across the table, the Khornate champions found Nurgle's servants sitting in their oversized thrones. Their bloated, rotting bodies were surrounded by flies, and little nurglings danced upon their massive bellies, causing the elk-horned monstrosities to laugh and gurgle with their distorted voices. One of them coughed up a huge ball of snot and stomach acid and grinned.
'Khorne's servants come to help Grandfather Nurgle in his quest to kill all that lives! Please, join us over here! There are seats aplenty left by the Fallen's table of Chaos!' one of the large champions blurted, a few of his tiny nurglings dashing across the table to dance in front of the seats that their master was talking about. Kharn didn't hesitate to move, and let the band of Khornate champions over to the black table. They rounded it and took their seats near Nurgle's servants, glad to be away from the magic users and hedonistic cowards. Nurgle was Khorne's rival as well, but a lesser one compared to the other powers of Chaos.
'Yorrik Phlegmspitter, the last time I hacked at you was Carikus. Everything there was already bleeding to death before I arrived,' Kharn spat bitterly, though acknowledging the champion's prowess as a sign of respect. Yorrik coughed up a ball of mucus and glowing bits of organic material, shaping it with his power of plague into another nurgling that danced before Kharn like a thing gone mad. The berserker slapped it away and it cried out in terror before splattering against its master's bloated and open belly. Ropy intestines and innards that were sticking out of Yorrik's body tangled around the thing and sucked it back in, only to be purged again from a hole near Yorrik's shoulder.
'You never did like anything that didn't bleed excessively. Oh well, Papa Nurgle can provide a few plagues that will make things bleed through their eyes. I remember the last time we met, you ripped a hole in my shoulder and spilled most of mine. Tell me, is it still there, the hole?' Yorrik asked as if he were talking about something that hadn't almost killed him. Kharn leaned back and saw that the gaping wound was not only still there, but had grown and been polluted. Bubbling boils and black ooze dripped from its form. It had grown teeth as well, needle-like things with a large bone connecting two of them near the middle. It seemed to be smiling at Kharn, a tentacle writhing around in the wound like a tongue.
Kharn shrugged as he saw the other berserker champions talking amongst themselves, eagerly wanted to be gone from this place and get closer to the killing. They were in the Eye of Terror, nearly six thousand light-years away from the Guratin system in the Segmentum Tempestus. He examined how Yorrik had changed since their last encounter.
The huge champion had definitely gotten much fatter and bloated, and looked more rotten than their last encounter as well. He had more puss-leaking wounds and his skin was tinted a bit less green, to be replaced with white and grey mixed into the color of sickness and filth. His head was no longer a head, but a bloated tumor of flesh upon what looked to be massive, squat shoulders. Yorrik's eyes were shining white with green pupils, but sunken deep within his misshapen skull. Out of the right section of his forehead, two great antlers sprouted up and forked off, sometimes connecting back and entangling with each other.
On the right side of his head, there was a large orkish tusk jutting from his temple, yellow pustule and bile squirting from its end at random, dripping down the side for one of the Nurglish champion's two tongues to lick up. That led Kharn to the monstrous mouth. It was filled with every sort of teeth, flat and square, some like those of a shark, many like tiny needles. There were even tusks like those of a walrus. Behind them lurked a tongue that looked more like a tentacle than anything, its purple form slinking around, waiting for something else to devour. The other tongue was a long, serpentine thing of a pale pink color.
The rest of him seemed only bloated, discolored, or rotting, huge shoulders and tree trunk arms. His belly was gigantic and many organs, a few that had never been part of his anatomy, spilled out onto his girth. Kharn couldn't see his legs, although he could only imagine how warped and misshapen they looked. Maybe Yorrik had grown a few slug parts like he had desired and was able to simply crawl around without hindrance. It seemed very likely considering the champion left a trail of slime wherever he "scuttled" anywhere, or whatever he did to get around.
Varidun nudged Kharn and both World Eaters looked over to another doorway directly across the large table from where they were sitting. It was opening slowly, and it was making a fair amount of noise as it did so. Soon enough, it was open and a retinue of small daemons made the way for a large, armored man in deep, pristine green armor with black paudrons and a green trim as well. Upon the man's armored form was a monk's robe, black and splattered with dried gore here and there, and with a thick robe around the waist. Upon each of his paudrons was the eight pointed star of Chaos Undivided. He made his way into the room, flanked by a Thousand Son sorcerer lord on either side.
Kharn was immediately wary and distrusting of this man. Even a follower of Chaos could not be trusted, and Kharn was sure that this one was most definitely not going to keep to his word. If need be, Kharn could kill him here and be done with this silly gathering soon. Gorechild's jagged teeth whirred with the anticipation of blood and slaughter.
'Welcome, all worthy champions of Chaos. I trust you all know why you have been gathered here?' the Fallen said in a snide voice. There were nods of affirmation from most of the champions. The Fallen was about to take his seat on a dais that was beginning to float a few hands above the floor. The sorcerers walked back to their own chapter's allies and took their seats. The Fallen tilted his head to the side.
'It seems that our brethren from Slanesh's cult have not arrived yet,' said the man, running a green-armored hand over his completely shaven head. His grey eyes did not share the concern in his voice. They looked sinister, as if plotting something.
'Too busy shoving hooks and poles where they don't belong,' Kharn offered up with a snarl. The other champions had mixed responses. All of those who followed Khorne bellowed great laughter, and even Yorrik and another Nurglish champion chuckled. The Wolrd Beared and Night Lord champions simply nodded in agreement. The Fallen shrugged.
'Well, even so, we have gathered five champions of Tzeench, four champions of Nurgle, four champions of Khorne, and three from Chaos Undivided. We have gathered for a purpose: to bring about the destruction of the Imperium. There are many adversaries to be fought, and many more to be sacrificed to our gods to summon daemons to assist us. We have but to turn the key and open the path to victory.' The Fallen's voice carried sway with a few of those who had been wavering. Kharn folded his arms across his chest, Gorechild still in his firm grip. He was not convinced in the slightest.
'Did the sorcerer of the Thousand Sons tell you of my demand in joining your folly?' Kharn asked in a bitter tone.
'Indeed. And I am…most troubled by the lack of trust you have put in me. Nevertheless, what you have demanded shall be provided,' said the man as he drew his great blade and slid half of it onto the table. With a mighty swing, the Fallen brought his free hand down and snapped the blade in half. The power sword's hilt flickered for a moment and then fizzled. The Fallen tossed Kharn the blade half and the berserker smashed it to pieces with Gorechild's axehead. He swept the pieces onto the floor.
'Now, with that...demand out of the way, what are we to discuss?' asked the Word Bearer champion, idly reading his great tome of horror and dark rituals. The Fallen sheathed what was left of his blade and sat upon the floating dais, surveying the gathering closely.
'Troop deployment, my friend Tolarak,' replied the Fallen. Immediately, there rose a hologram of the Guratin system, the two suns and twenty eight planets all present, as well as the many moons and other satellites that were present. seventeen of the spheres and their moons were tan in color, two grey, and two green. The others were a plain white color. The Fallen pointed to the cluster of brown planets. 'Here are Imperial garrisons and a chapel of the Raven Guard Chapter. The Mortificators have also set up outposts upon two of these worlds. We are sure to encounter naval forces and Ecclesiarchial reinforcements for the Space Marines already there. I am open to suggestions gentlemen, proceed,' finished the Fallen, sitting back in his dais.
The Thousand Sons lead sorcerer lord took the lead and the large holographic map shifted towards him slightly.
'We should move in near Gertai I and Gertai II,' he said. As he did, two planets darkened to deep blue. 'It is at the edge of the system, and furthest from Imperial fleet movements. From here, we may establish a foothold and move from there.'
'I believe,' started Yorrik, the holographic image flickering and then shifting towards him. 'that we should enter the system through the most populated area, such as Guratin IV and let the plague we of Nurgle have provided, spread from there. Both Nurgle and Khorne can increase the likelihood of a victory, and we will have a firm foothold in the system, including several thousand corpse-slaves. Our brethren of the Iron Warriors will not tarry so long with siege if they have slave-help. This satisfies all our needs,' he stated. The designated planet turned deathly green and all the tan that had been there faded. Kharn stood up and swept his axe through the planet in the dead center of the system. It turned crimson red and the berserker shouted.
'Strike in the middle and spread from the planet in all directions!' Everyone looked at Kharn as if he were speaking of returning to the Emperor's service. Yorrik raised what looked to be his eyebrows and then raised a huge talon above his head.
'Spread a plague through the second rim of planets to slow them down maybe? You can't have all the fighting done yourself,' he chided. Kharn glared, but nodded all the same, never once removing his axe from the image. The Fallen looked over to the Thousand Sons and whispered something. The Word Bearer stood up and the image shifted towards him.
'Enter through the death world and spread the word of Chaos to the garrisons of normal Guardsmen present. Our forces will be bolstered, and the Iron Warriors will have less siege warfare to be burdened with.' The champion of the Steel Brethren stood and the image shifted yet again. He spread his arms out wide.
'Enter through all of the outer rim planets through orbital drops and spread inward! Trap the Imperium's finest in a vice and let no one escape!' he shouted, a fist clenched in the air. The rim plaets shimmered silver. Others threw in their plans as well, but nobody was able to agree with anything anyone offered. The Fallen simply sat and waited, watching every plan rise and fall due to conflicting preferences and loyalties. And so the council began, and ran on for a great many hours without an end in sight, tensions running high. It seemed that this great invasion was falling apart at the seams before it was to begin!