Khorne

Man raises a rock and brings it down on another man's head.
A spear clips an innocent woman across the neck.
A million people scream as their city goes up in flames, clawing and writhing for a salvation that will never come.

In their mingled blood, I take my first breaths. With every heaving, wretched grunt of rage and hate, I grow stronger. I am the fist of the man as he shreds his enemy's face with a knife, and I revel in his carnal scream. I am the soldiers, gunning down innocents when the battle is done. I am the cry of fury as a mother cradles her strangled baby. I am the endless roar in the heart of the shattered atom, the flash that turns flesh to ash and bone to dust. I am all these things, and their pain comes to me. I have many names, but the one most know me as is Khorne, the god of blood.

An accurate name, I have always thought. I am blood, and blood is my symbol. Pain, anger, hate, all these things feed me, as they always have since the dawn of time. When sentience blossomed, I was there. When the first animal tore its enemy to pieces, ripping the dripping viscera from its throat, and roaring its victory to the heavens above, that was the moment I was born. Through evolution, DNA, the instinct of survival, I have flowed through generations, always through the blood. I am in the heart of every mortal, for what mortal does not want to slice his rivals open, deep down, bathe in their blood and make merry with their women? I am the oldest, and the most primal urge in all existence. Cowards run from battle because they believe that they cannot win. This blasphemy frustrates me, because it is merely their own cowardice that prevents them from seeing their true potential, and yet, I will show them the error of their ways. None can run forever.

Some think me foolish. Some think me bestial. I enjoy this, because it allows them to underestimate me. I am not some mere thug to be used in the plans of another. The little runts like the god of decadence, a mere weakling spawned from the cosmic orgy of the Eldar. Thinking that it can steal pleasure and bloodlust from me. Soon, it shall be shown the error of its ways, and I shall show it that its methods are not merely for the purpose of bestowing pleasure. This will be a delicious irony indeed.

The lord of decay frustrates me, because he is content to sit and wait. Hope, a disgusting emotion in itself, and despair. These are not the drives of action. Did mankind evolve because he sat in a corner and waited for something to happen? Utterly disgraceful, the antithesis of evolution and the survival of the fittest as life was intended to be. Only in persevering, in tearing victory from the still-beating hearts of one's enemies can truly create progress. I am the only one of my 'brothers' who cares about this at all. The decadent thing would rather sit and play with itself forever, and the lord of decay is no better. Once more, it falls on me to motivate life.

Tzeentch I have naught but contempt for. The fool sees himself as the lord of change, the very essence of primordial chaos. What a bleeding idiot. All Tzeentch encourages is stasis. The endless stasis that comes with an utterly unpredictable cosmos. The so called 'lord of evolution' helps evolution how? He gives the weak the tools to stay away from the battle, and kill their enemies from afar. Day after day, I see the strong struck down by the weak, the mere psychic abberants that dare call themselves evolutions of humanity. All Tzeentch does, or has ever done, is keep things the same. The end will come, my cunning friend, as no plan can last forever. The curtains will drop around you as the play ends, and I shall be there, waiting.

Some would see me as a death god. Some would see me as nothing but a butcher-lord, who is fed by the death screams of millions. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am a god of life. Those who die by the natural order were never worthy to live in the first place, and ensure that their inferior genes are not carried forward. More than Tzeentch or Slaanesh, I perfect races. Those that follow my creed are the paragons of life, the fierce, primal force of universal hunger that will devour their enemies, fight until the last breath, and spit in the face of death. No one defies the cold silence more than I, and yet, I am slandered by the worshipers of the miserable corpse. I am slandered by those who see me as nothing more than a brutal thug. These insults shall not go unanswered, and when the skies of their worlds burn red, and my legions descend, they shall see. I represent not death, but the survival of the strong and the death of the unworthy.

I am Khorne. Hatred, anger, pain, bravery, power, glory, these are all my purview. Join me and experience what it is like to follow the true way that evolution intended. If you are weak, die for your species, and strengthen them by your absence, a goal no less brave than taking up an axe and slaughtering your foes in my name. If you are strong, prepare to achieve power unmatched, glory unimaginable, and prepare to be shown what evolution truly has meant you to be.

I am Khorne, the Brass God of Blood and War. I shall bathe the universe in blood and flame, until only the worthy remain.

- Kephn