Warhammer 40k : Starting as a Primarch

The common perception of Khorne's followers paints them as mindless berserkers, but this is a gross oversimplification. Khorne, the Lord of Skulls, despises psychic sorcery for its reliance on powers external to one's own strength. However, technology, as a manifestation of mortal ingenuity and skill, earns his grudging respect.

Guns, explosives, and even nuclear weapons are seen as extensions of mortal will and tools for spilling blood. The Blood God finds grim admiration for inventors and technologists who dedicate their genius to the art of destruction. These minds could have pursued endeavors like curing diseases, eradicating famine, or fostering prosperity. Yet, they chose instead to harness their talents for the glorification of slaughter.

In Khorne's eyes, this dedication is pure devotion. Swords and firearms, crafted through mortal effort, are worthy tributes to his power, unlike cowardly sorcerers who draw upon Warp energies for strength.

This philosophy of technological acceptance makes Khorne's Daemon fleets among the most advanced in Chaos, teeming with Daemon engines and devastating weaponry.

The void battle was unlike any Dukel had faced before. The Khorne Daemon fleet, bristling with weaponry, proved to be a formidable opponent. Even the most advanced firepower systems of the Imperial expeditionary fleet struggled to gain the upper hand in the brutal exchange.

Realizing this stalemate, Dukel employed a strategy befitting the grim theater of Warhammer 40K: ramming and boarding.

The expedition's flagship, Soulfire, spearheaded the assault. Its void shields flared under enemy fire as it plowed through the Khorne fleet, macro-cannons and lances blazing. Smaller enemy frigates were smashed aside by the Soulfire's immense golden ram, scattering debris and bodies into the cold void.

Within the Khorne fleet, captains roared in anger and disbelief.

"What is this madness? The Human Primarch charges at us like a frenzied beast! Does he not understand void warfare?"

One of the demon captains, a seasoned commander, ground his teeth in frustration. "Retreat? It's too late for that. Forward! Let the Blood God decide!"

Under his command, the Chaos fleet surged ahead. Engines roared, and both fleets closed the gap, exchanging furious salvos of plasma fire and torpedoes. The void erupted with light as ships exploded in fiery blossoms, spilling wreckage and corpses into the endless expanse.

The Soulfire's golden ram pierced the Chaos flagship's hull, tearing through its daemonic shields and armored bulkheads. The impact sent shockwaves through the ship, and Dukel led his warriors into the breach.

With the battle cry of "For the Emperor!" echoing through the void, Dukel leapt onto the Chaos ship's deck, his chainsword roaring with righteous fury. His boots dented the bloodstained metal floor as he smashed through the nearest blast door. His guards followed closely, their bolters barking death into the corridors.

The interior of the Chaos flagship bore Khorne's unmistakable mark—walls of brass and crimson, skulls piled high on either side of narrow walkways, and grotesque displays of mutilation. Human corpses, impaled on spikes or fused grotesquely with the ship itself, lined the walls. Some still groaned in torment, their twisted forms pleading for mercy.

Dukel gave them their release. His warriors wielded chainswords with grim resolve, severing the ties that bound the unfortunate to the Warp-corrupted vessel. Prayers were whispered for their souls as the fires of the Emperor's mercy consumed them.

Suddenly, a blast tore through the bulkhead, and a tide of cultists and Khorne daemons poured forth. Brass armor gleamed, and daemonic roars filled the air.

Grenade launchers barked, and chainswords howled as the Imperial soldiers met the heretics head-on. Dukel was a storm of wrath, his chainsword slicing through corrupted flesh and daemonic steel alike. Blood sprayed, and the stench of ozone and gore filled the corridor.

The cultists, adorned with brass spikes and draped in flayed skin, fought with reckless abandon. Yet even their fervor could not withstand the might of the Imperial warriors. Sisters of Battle crushed the heretics beneath their ceramite boots, and Space Marines unleashed volleys of bolter fire, reducing daemons to steaming piles of ichor.

Dukel charged like a living battering ram, his footsteps shaking the deck. Heretics who tried to block his path were reduced to gory chunks, their Warp-tainted bodies unable to withstand the Primarch's holy wrath. His burning chainsword purified their flesh, leaving only ash in its wake.

As Dukel and his forces neared the ship's core, a towering Khorne champion stepped forward to block their path. Clad in brass armor etched with runes of blood and fury, he raised a massive daemon blade crackling with Warp energy.

The blade whispered to him, its voice a hymn of slaughter and bloodshed. He felt the daemon within stir, lending him strength as he prepared to face the Primarch.

"This is the end for you, Imperial wretch!" the champion bellowed.

Dukel merely tightened his grip on his chainsword, its teeth spinning with eager ferocity. "The Emperor's wrath be upon you, heretic."

The two warriors clashed, their weapons meeting in a thunderous collision. Sparks flew as the chainsword ground against the daemon blade, the air itself seeming to scream from the raw power unleashed.

The corridor became a battleground for the ages, as mortal strength and daemonic fury collided in a struggle that would echo through the annals of history.

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