You know what the worst thing about besieging a hive for the Ruinous Gods is? It's not being forced to run at the hive so your bodies pile up high enough so your uncaring Traitor Astartes types can climb up you (and boy, when you're pinned under a pile of your dead comrades don't you ALWAYS get an itch?). No, it's the waiting.

We were into the sixth month of the Draxian Persecution. Hive Draxia Primary was this pretty huge hive that had somewhere along the line hopped onto the backside of a mining facility and never gotten off, burying halfway into this huge mountain that tried to race to the top. No biggie for the Red Rivers. They were going to hold us back until a small crack appeared in the defenses and then send us in to die in horrible droves.

The Khorne guys in the army didn't take so well to that, and neither did Khârn. Big fella got really antsy after about the second minute of the siege, and the ball of yarn just wasn't working the way it used to when it came to distracting him.

So we're just waiting for something to happen and Khârn grabs a bunch of us, and asks us politely to come with him. After screaming a little due to his polite request (he had charts about what he was going to do to the entire planet if we didn't. I don't know where he got the stationery), about fifty of the Rivers joined his party to ascend the Draxia Spire-Mountain.

After ten days, three dares of "I bet you can't jump that gap", an avalanche caused by Khârn punching a mountain goat and almost all of us dying in horrible ways, we finally reached the summit of the mountain. Flat on top was that summit almost eerily so... like it had been hacked off by someone with a large axe.

Anyway, we get there and what does Khârn do? Breaks out the marbles. I don't know, I don't know where he keeps getting these things. He challenges the last four of us to a game, and since we had nothing better to do we had a run of it.

Three more fatalities later and it was clear I was going to win. Khârn just didn't have the patience for marbles. He could see my smiling and in return nodded his helmeted head as if to say "Just watch THIS shot, Smug McSmuggy" ... shortly before screaming "TRICK SHOT" and hurling his sole marble down the side of the mountain.

We stood there in silence and watched as the marble plinked from sight, and a rather large amount of debris followed it. This debris loosened even more of it, and the entire mountain began to shake and tear away from the hive. Draxia Primary shuddered a moment, and then began to collapse.

Neither of us looked away from the sheer destruction and loss of life that had just been wrought, and the sound of our respect knuckles tapping together and my entire arm dislocating in the aftershock were muffled even from the great height we were at. It took a further two days for things to settle, and through it all neither of us said a word.

It was Khârn who broke the silence, that competitive look somehow burning from what little I could see of his crazed eyes set in his helmet, as he bent forwards simply so he could stare right into my face. I could see up his nose too. It was pretty gross.

"RACE TO THE BOTTOM"

Don't worry, Khârn made sure it was fair by giving me a head-start. Even pushed me hard enough that I cleared about half of the mountain. Medics are telling me that I should probably be dead instead of unable to move or feel my anything, but Khârn himself told me no one ever won a race by not landing head first in the twisted wreckage of humanity's folly.

He's a deep guy.

What a great guy tbh.

one hell of a marble

It was a normal day, just like any other, almost. Commissars were shooting their men, etc. But there I was, with the Red Rivers, sitting on some shithole of a bunker, when we just heard this loud crash. Of course, we thought it was an attack, it being in the middle of the damn night and all. A few of the guardsmen jumped next to the bunker wall, while I hit the ground. Suddenly, another crash was heard, this time closer. It sounded like it came from the inside of the bunker.

“IT’S MY DAY OFF!” Khârn spoke as he broke the reinforced concrete wall, smashed a few guardsman directly in his path, and ran off. I didn’t know what had happened until a bit later.

Across the land, several hundred kilometers out, lived a farmer, who took care of his heard of bronto-cattle. When he awoke this day, he grabbed his boots, put on his hat, got his tools, and stepped out the door, where several hundred dinosaur sized cattle were flipped on their backs with their insides scatter around the field. Carved in each one with what looked like a rusty fence post was the words “IT’S MY DAY OFF”.

Blood of the people, skin of the innocent, bones of the pure, all laid out in a complex pattern. The cultists performed the exact ritual, syllable to movements, all in accordance with whatever Tzeentch had wished. Skies were darkening, wildlife fleeing, storms that shouldn’t happen this time of year started appearing. Then, out from the bushes, Khârn leapt, slamming a cultist into the arrangement, and instantly turning him into liquefied pulp. Across the land, a sound of a giant record stopping was heard.

A single cultist watched as Khârn continued on his way, oblivious to the ritual. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that”. He was then instantly destroyed.

The commissar watched the mountains surrounding him. Fortified in his city, waiting for the forces of Chaos to come, all he needed was to wait until- “ENEMY SPOTTED. FIRE ON COORDINATES” A voice screamed through his earpiece. The basilisks quickly responded, firing at all the coordinates shouted through the comm. units. Eventually, they exhausted their ammo. The Commissar looked on the mountains, expecting to see the ruined army of Chaos. Instead, he saw nothing but splintered trees and rocks, and the craters from the barrage, which seemed to spell out “IT’S MY DAY OFF!”

What a kidder!