Of all the planets possible to land on, Denevar III was one of the better choices. It was a small planet, an eighth the size of Earth, and covered almost 75% with water. The one main continent stretched lazily from one pole to the other. At the northern most region, a huge mountain chain stretched for thousands and thousands of miles. It kept the cold northern weather pushed back up near the pole until winter. Beneath these mountains lay a series of rolling hills, and then further grasslands. At the equator, there was a huge white salt plain, inhospitable, and without water. It was the result of a long ago asteroid hitting the center of the planet and gouging a deep scar across the entire continent. All life was destroyed, and the incoming seawater hit the volcanic lava that flowed up from underground hissing into steam, and leaving huge formations of salt. In the very center of this, directly along the equator lies a vast gagged canyon caused by the weakened crust, and the differences in internal volcanic forces as the different parts of the planet struggled to spin at the same rotational velocity. Earthquakes were common along the canyon-line. Molten lava could sometimes be barely seen down the miles at the bottom of its depths.

The Southern Continent mimicked its northern neighbor, but in reverse. It was a pleasant planet to live on. Its weather was mild, except in the mountain regions where the cold northern air continuously collided with the warmer southern air. Only here were the lightning storms and tornadoes so horrible that most life moved underground.

Denevar III is located on the edge of the Kolarne Circle. The Circle is a densely packed cluster of systems lying near the galactic center. It unfortunately was very close to the domains of the Ork Warlords. It was not long until the Orks found Denevar III and crash-landed on the Southern Continent. It was here that they slew the local humans, or drove them further into the North. Most of the populace braved the natural, if unstable rock bridges across the great chasm, and marched across the huge white desert northwards.

Those humans that escaped to the North found a civilization already intact. Here small bands of humans had collected together in worship and peaceful meditation. The countryside was peppered with small towns, monasteries, and martial arts academies. These people were holistic and methodical in their way of life. They took their southern brethren into their orders and taught them their ways.

The monks soon acclimated and entered the academies and monasteries, leading the ways of their northern brethren. They learned of the monks spiritual practices, and began to practice the Denevarian martial arts, know simply as the Way of Do.

Scouts soon sent word that the Orks were crossing the chasm, and were going to invade the northern continent. The Masters of the different orders of monks, sent word to each of the schools. Bring your best Warriors and gather at the edge of the White Scar Desert. They would defend their homes.

The way of Do was dedicated to the sons and daughters of the God and Goddess of light. These teachings of these four figures shaped the way of life of each Denevarian. One of the daughters, the Goddess Kali the Destroyer, had a teaching, "All life is to be preserved. Always keep the mind clear, and the body sharp like an obsidian blade. When those come to threaten your existence, only then is War necessary. But when war is necessary, then be swift and complete in your battle. Let the speed of your victory be so great that none will try again, and peace will be restored"

The way of Do involved meditation and clearing of the mind. A handful of Denevarian monks had developed powers of the mind, given to them as holy blessings by the children of the God and Goddess of Light. Many of the other monks used their moving meditations to battle each other, to keep in shape and keep their minds clear and bodies sharp.

In the end, when the Denevarians gathered on the edge of the White Scar, it was not a ragged band that faced the Ork Horde in front of them, but a battle ready army of warriors, martial artists, and powerful psykers.

When Waaa Nunug finally traversed the desert, they saw the 300 "humies" in front of them, armed only with hand to hand weapons, and armored only in yellow and red robes. Chief Nunug laughed. As he looked out at the see of the shaven headed humies, he knew victory was his.

Suddenly, from the center of the group, a flare was launched. It colored the white salt sands blood red in the light of the dying sun. The mob of humies rushed forward. They were so fast the Orks could not line them up in their sites. A crimson and gold wave washed over them as Humie hands and feet struck out. Obsidian swords flashed in the twilight. On the salt plain humie Weirdheads crushed the Ork vehicles. As the obsidian blade flashed down across the head of Chief Nunug's assistant. He was heard to say, "Das one fast humie!" Moments after the flare had been launched, the battlefield was still. Nunung and a few other officers lay hidden under the bodies of the dead. Not an Ork moved. The flare still hung in the air, like a miniature sun, and then slowly floated to the ground. Even without its light, the salt plain was soaked in red, but now the red of blood.

The monks left the battlefield. Nunug and his officers laughed at the stupid "humies" for not scavenging their lost equipment. Once they got back to the Southern Continent, Nunung called for reinforcements. Unfortunately for him, the vast electrical storms that had caused his fleet to crash on the planet also made transmission impossible. Nunug was stuck. "Ise gonna get those humies if iss da last ting I do!" the Goff commander swore. Thus begun the terrible conflict of wars that would plague Denevar III for centuries.

It was on a dark summers night, 300 years to the day that the babe Kahn fell out of the Warp. It was one of those rare clear nights, and Kahn's pod streaked across the sky, leaving a long trail of fire across the night sky. The monks watched this with apprehension, thinking it perhaps new enemies to battle against. They sent scouts out to search the landing site. On the edge of the great salt desert, they found a strange pod, and in it a child. The child was brought to the monks, who decided that it must be the unwanted child of a god. Their histories and beliefs told of stories where the sons and daughters of the God and Goddess of Light would sometimes lie with mortals. These would often produce offspring, who would be unwelcome in the kingdom of gods, but would be raised instead by their mortal parents. There were many tales of such heroes and heroines among the ranks of the monks. There had only been a handful since the Orks started to invade, and none had arrived in such auspicious terms as this.

As the child began to be raised by the monks, he learned their language and customs with astounding speed. By his 5th birthday he was discussing philosophy with the elder monks. By his 12th birthday he had become as strong a warrior as any of the brothers or sisters at the monasteries.

He was taught the way of Do, and how to mimic the animals in his moves to fight in harmony with the will of the God and Goddess of light. Soon his levels of ability far surpassed even his teachers. He was taken to the Old Master. The Old Master was not the leader of the four sects of monks. However he was so old, and had reached such proficiency with the way of Do, that all revered him. The Old Master sensed the great power within the young man, and began to teach him the inner secrets of Do. He taught him how to channel and clear his mind, so that the child would have enough wisdom to temper his power.

For years they would walk on the tall mountain passes speaking of philosophy and training in the ways of Do. Try as he might, Jaghatai could not beat the Old Master. For days they would fight sometimes, and though Jaghatai could crush rocks with is hands he could never lay his hands on the Old Master. Finally after one day of relentless training, he asked the Old Master, "Master, how is it that I have so much strength, but I cannot defeat you?"

The Old Master replied, "I am very old, and my strength has long faded. Raw power is not the way of Do. What good is strength if you cannot hit your opponent? Come and watch with me."

The Old Master led Jaghatai to a plateau off the side of the mountains. There they came across a brunon (A massive bear-like beast native to Denevar III). The Brunon was trying to raid a rock cobra nest, to eat the large tasty eggs for breakfast. Jaghatai and the Old Master watched as the brunon skirted around the nest, waiting for an opening. The rock cobra was very still and watched, swaying almost imperceptibly.

The brunon rushed in, raising its powerful arms to crush the cobra. Muscles bulged under fur on its back as it reared up on its hind legs for the final strike.

But faster was the cobra. Like a bolt of lighting from the Denevarian storms the cobra struck out and bit the brunon. Deadly poison flowed deep into the animals blood. Within seconds the brunon fell over dead.

Jaghatai thought for a long time, looking at the powerful lifeless body of the brunon. "I must learn to fight like that" he thought " I must become as quick as lightning" "Yes" the Old Master's thoughts whispered into his mind. "You must become the cobra"

The monks of Denevar III were neither misogynistic nor celibate. Both males and females served in their ranks, sharing the tasks of work and spiritual meditation. The different orders would often co-mingle in holiday gatherings or for harvest. During these times, the normally reserved and contemplative monks would celebrate a love of life. Their quiet simple songs would lift up in the air and be carried up into the mountains. Dancing and storytelling were common, as well as drinking rare Denevarian Blue wine, made by the monks themselves.

Jaghatai had come down from the mountain, his training complete. For several years he had taken control of the defense of the Ork Raids. His reputation as a warrior and commander had become legendary. That autumn, during the harvest festival, he met Ariana Turs, of the Sisterhood of Siva. Her outward beauty surpassed the sunset, and could only be evenly matched by her inner calm and her reputation in battle. They courted, and later under the rumbling clouds, on the Peak of Heaven, they took vows of binding. Jaghatai felt complete.

The winter was spent in laugher, locked away in the vast mountain caverns and tunnels safe from the violent lightning storms and the harsh winter. Legend has it that Jaghatai and Ariana would spar for weeks in the depths of the mountain, their laughter and fighting cadence echoing up through the store-rooms to the other monks living above. In the spring, she bore a child. None could remember prosperity like that which crossed the palm of Jaghatai Kahn.

Come summer, the monks moved down to the plains, as was usual, to plant. Jaghatai trained the troops, reading for the Ork raids that always followed warmer weather. Come they did. Scouts reported Orks forming on an eastern tip of the White Scar Desert, where they had rarely come before. It was a massive formation, obviously trying to sneak around behind the summer settlements and flank the monks. Jaghatai gathered his brethren together. He told them that they would stop this invasion and send a message to the Ork King that would send him whining back across the desert for years. He gave his warriors white robes, to blend in with the salts of the desert, and tattooed their arms with the visage of the Cobra. Lined in formation, with shaven heads and dark obsidian blades drawn, they were a fearsome sight.

When the Orks crossed the desert, the monks were ready. The Ork column pulled to a halt, waiting for spies to scout the area ahead. All around them, white robed figures rose from the salt like specters. Before they could cry out, Jaghatai launched a single red flare into the sky. The victory was quick. The Orks looked different. They had the same green skin, but were much smaller. They ran from battle, but were hunted down and killed quickly enough. Though the force was five times larger than they had ever faced, the battle lasted only mere hours. Jaghatai looked over the dead, and noticed weapons that were rusted and broken, or without ammunition. Dread passed over him. It has been a feint.

"To home!" Jaghatai cried. "Run like lightning, for our families are at stake!" For two days the monks ran non-stop. When they arrived at the summer camp, it was too late.

The plumes of smoke could be seen for miles. The bodies of Orks littered the fields, but also, the bodies of monks. All around could be seen the remnants of the warriors. Only a few had survived. As they stacked there dead and on giant pyres, they told Jaghatai the story.

The Orks had attacked two days after they left. It was a huge force, filled with weapons that could kill at a distance. All the reserve warriors had taken the young back to the hills. Then, both priest and priestess had launched themselves forward to protect their homes and the food stores for next winter. Master Monks had used their great power of Do to call lightning from the storms above and smashed the Orks repeatedly. The Orks had new weapons that rang like thunder, and rained liquid fire down on the warriors. All had seemed lost, till the Dancing Fears came down from the mountain. The Dancing Fear was an order of female warriors. Thought myths, they had been long ago banished for embracing Kali of Death, without the balance of Siva the giver of life. The order had been disbanded and the Masters had stricken them from the record. They had hidden deep in the bowels of the mountains, recruiting in secret those female monks they thought were worthy. They had come down the mountains with a screeching wail that stopped every warrior, monk and Ork, in mid swing. They rushed onto the battlefield. They were dressed in blasphemy of tradition, heads unshaven and long hair spiked up upon their heads. Dressed in black burial shrouds and masks, they fell upon the Orks like a pack of ravenous hounds. Their howling cry broke the resolve of the Orks. Their wild whirling blades carved the orks like the autumn harvest. The Orks could take no more. They ran in retreat. The Dancing Fears chased them to the desert, cutting down any too slow to evade them, and then disappeared.

Jaghatai asked for Ariana. The monks shook their head, too sad to answer. They led him to the center of the village, still strewn with stacks upon stacks of Ork bodies. In the center was a giant mound of Ork corpses, and on top of them, lay the remains of Ariana.

She alone had stood against the main invasion force, while the others had taken the children to safety. She had slain Ork after Ork until the corpses were too high to move. She had then climbed on top of the corpses and fought from the higher ground. By the time the warriors had returned, it was too late. The molten fire had it home, and Ariana had fallen in battle.

Jaghatai screamed in defiance. Staring at the broken body of his true love, his calm collapsed and his inner spirit shattered. "I will pay for every drop of her blood spilt with a thousand lives," he cried wildly. "No longer will the Orks attack, for I am the Cobra! I am the lightning! Today I will drive the Orks from the name list of the Gods and tonight I will drink on their lost souls!"

All around him cried horribly, for his mind had broken all of its control and filled each of them with the sadness and loss he felt. They cried and gripped their hearts and head, unable to bear. Jaghatai's veterans knelt before him. "Our families also lie in the arms of Kali the Destroyer. We do not fear death. We welcome her embrace. Let us drink the souls of the lost with you"

Jaghatai ran into the desert with his followers. Wilder than the Dancing Fear they were. Across the white sands they ran. They crossed the great scar on the same bridges the Orks had entered, Denevar's lava blood rolling angrily below. On the Southern side they found a simple civilization. Orks too farmed and hunted. Every sleepy farm they ran across yelled out and was silenced. Every hunting troop became food for scavengers. Onward and onward Jaghatai ran. Whole towns were laid to waste by his Soul Drinkers. Until he arrived at the Ork capital.

Greeg, great grandson of Nunug the Magnificent, was now the current king. He had worked hard at staying alive, but he now had a problem. He had lost all his good officers in battle against the "Humies" and it looked like there was no way out of going into battle. Strange noises floated up from outside. Sounds of fighting. "Damn Gretchin," he thought. "Just cas we use dem in da sneak attack, dey tink we treet dem bad. Well better dem dan me!" The gretchin had been restless lately, but this was the first battle he had heard outside the fort. The countryside had been strangely quiet for the last few months. None of his scouts had returned. "De jus don like me cas I da king. So a few o der brodders die in da battles. So wat! Better dem dan me!. Pluss, da more food we steal, da less we have ta work! Das why I have da greymatta. Das why I da king!" The fighting grew louder. Greeg hoped his guards were killing lots of gretchin.

Suddenly the door burst in and creature about the size of a humie burst in. It was covered in blood from head to toe. "Heyyyyyy..." thought Greeg, "Das one of doz Humies! Das not da way its supposed to be, we suppose ta attak dem, not dem attak us!" The figure strode across the room and swung his sword down at an arc. "Oh well" Greeg thought his last. "Das da way it goes."

Jaghatai Kahn emerged victorious from the Ork castle. Every Ork here and elsewhere was dead or so far run into the southern mountains, that they would never return. Jaghatai and his officers were drenched in blood. He stood holding the slick handle of his obsidian blade, and the events of the past nine months came flooding back to him. Nine months his band had ravaged the countryside. For nine months he had killed day and night. Nine months ago, his beautiful Ariana had died. Jaghatai Kahn dropped to his knees in the silent, empty city and wept.

Above him, cutting through the electrical storms that raged the upper atmosphere a ship appeared. It slowly descended, its whine of electrostatic engines groaning louder. Jaghatai's officers roused him and pointed to the sky. Jaghatai arose. The Orks must not have been finished; this must be their last weapon. Jaghatai and the others stood in ready formation for their new enemy to attack.

The ship landed in the empty market square. Underneath the ship's bulk, worthless shop stalls and Ork bodies were crushed. The engines stopped and a door slipped open. Out of the ship a tall figure strode. He was no Ork. He stood straight and tall, and power rushed out of him like the master of all Old Masters. He walked straight up to the blood soaked Jaghatai.

"Long have I looked for you. You are the last to come back to the fold." The man said. His cold blue eyes spoke of a deep understanding of all life. Jaghatai took a defensive pose in front of his men.

"What kind of creature are you?" he demanded, though he could not keep the awe from creeping into his tone.

"I am the Emperor of all Humanity," said the Emperor softly.

Jaghatai shook his head. "What does that mean? Are you a god?"

The Emperor smiled a thoughtful smile. "Some would say yes."

Jaghatai heard his men kneel behind him and begin chanting the holy blessing. Jaghatai lowered his sword. "What do you want with me?" he asked.

The Emperor smile grew larger. He looked at his creation and wondered how one with such innocence and inner strength was capable of the bloodletting fury as he witnessed from orbit. He was lucky to find this one. He was the last and Chaos had more time to look for him than any other. Fortunately he arrived first. He would tame the rage inside this one.

The Emperor walked up to Jaghatai and grasped his shoulders. " I " he said "am your father."

Once the transition period had passed, and Jaghatai understood who he was, he thirsted for knowledge. The Emperor was able to spend a lot of time with him. The Emperor was concerned about Jaghatai possible taint. The Emperor was also concerned with the deep sadness inside his last returned son. Jaghatai told the Emperor about Ariana and the rage against the Orks. The Emperor feared that the Lords of Chaos had almost reached Jaghatai.

The Emperor gave Jaghatai a ship, a massive space barge, Constantinus. He said, "Now it is time for you to meet your brothers." The Emperor and Jaghatai left together. For years they traveled from system to system meeting the other Primarchs, gathering each, and a small force of Marines, each loyal for their leader on board the Conatantinus. They returned to Earth where the Emperor presented Jaghatai with his own Space Marines. In honor of his homeland, and his victories over the Orks, hey were dressed in white, to match the sands of his planet. The Emperor said, "These are yours, my son. Once the White Star Legion, now renamed. They were trained from some of my finest troops. Welcome Jaghatai Kahn, Primarch of the White Scars." Jaghatai's brothers cheered. He saluted Warmaster Horus, shook hands with Rogal Dorn, and was grabbed in a massive bear hug by Leman Russ. The Emperor took all twenty of his children together and said, "My children, the Empire is falling. We face massive enemies from throughout the galaxy. Orks, the dying Eldar, but even more powerful, the dark forces of Chaos. You, my children, must go forth and re-take the galaxy. I call a Holy Crusade! My children, take your Marines and go forth!"

Jaghatai took his brethren, tutored in the litanies of activation by the Tech Priests of Mars. On board the Constantinus the White Scars traveled south, through the galactic center, towards the Ork Empire. World after world the White Scars carved out of the Ork empire. The site of the White Scar's lightning standard became the nightmare of many Ork warlords. Every battle was the same. The Orks would advance on the still Marines, ready to destroy them. Every time, one lone flare would signal the attack. Then all that would be heard are the Death Cries of the Orks. Their lightning attacks became legendary. All through the Empire, the White Scar's victories were daily news. Single handedly, they drove back the Ork Empire, and carved out the second largest piece of known space of any Space Marine Chapter.

Of all the Primarchs, Jaghatai was not the strongest. That title was held by Horus, Primarch and Warmaster of the Emperor. While his Chapter also took over many wayward worlds, Horus would often travel back to Earth to consult with the Emperor and to plan strategy. The two were very tight, and it was rumored that some day, Horus might replace the Emperor as his successor. This was not enough for Horus. His Chapter, the Sons of Horus had taken much of the galactic North and East. He was given control over more and more troops. Not only did he control his own troops but he replaced the Primarchs of several other Space Marine troops, leading thousands upon thousands of Marines into battle.

Horus had power, but he wanted it all. The forces of Chaos reached out and touched Horus. Chaos found his pride easily manipulated and eventually Horus renounced the Emperor and claimed that he should be the new ruler of the universe. Several of the Space Marine Chapters under Horus' control sided with him. Several others stayed out of the way. The loyalty of the White Scars was never doubted.

Horus had pledged allegiance to the Chaos Gods, Mighty Deamons that lived within warp space and wanted to take over the real world for their own rule. In exchange, the Chaos Gods gave Horus evil power beyond imagining. Power even beyond the incredibly enhanced Primarchs. Power rival to the Emperor himself. Chaos-corrupted warriors fought loyalist Space Marines on thousands of worlds. Much of what had been gained during the Crusades was lost. Like a cancer the Heresy infected the entire structure of the Imperium. Finally the forces of Chaos made their way to Earth.

The Emperor finally knew that Chaos would take the upper hand. His greatest son, Horus had been tempted by the Dark Gods, and gave in. Now he watched in horror, as his own Space Marines, warped by the powers of Chaos fought all across the galaxy. The Emperor's vast psychic perception stretched across the galaxy. He was horrified at what he saw. Planet after Planet fell to the tides of Chaos. The Emperor knew that Horus would come for him. Horus wanted his throne.

The Emperor called the closest of his Space Marines. The Imperial Fists, lead by Rogal Dorn, were based on Earth as Earth Sector's main defense. This and the Royal Imperial Guard were not going to be enough to withstand an assault. The Emperor sent out an emergency signal to any of his Marine Chapters that could respond. Earth was about to be attack, come at all cost.

Many of the Marine Chapters were already engaged, fighting from planet to planet keeping the outer regions of the galaxy out of the grip of Chaos. Of all the Space Marine Chapters still loyal to the Emperor, only the Space Wolves, the Dark Angels, the Blood Angels and the White Scars responded. The Space Wolves and Dark Angels were far on the edge of the galaxy. They might not make it in time. So Jaghatai Kahn gathered his Marines and left for Earth.

The Emperor had a plan. The Imperial Fists would take the first defense outside the Imperial Palace. Inside the palace, Sanguinius would lead the Blood Angels. The Imperial Guard would hold the two massive spaceports, making the forces of Chaos unable to land troops since the Imperial City was covered in towers and massive buildings.

To the White Scars, he gave the honor of ambushing Chaos. The Emperor had heard Jaghatai talk of his ambush of the Orks. Instead of hiding underneath the plains of desert salt, the Emperor hid them inside old buildings and abandoned warehouses. Once the forces of Chaos had swept past them and on towards the Imperial Palace, the White Scars would attack them from the rear.

Chaos arrived. The Dark Angels and Space Wolves were still a day away. Right before Chaos began to drop their troops, the greatest of betrayals took place. The Imperial Guard, who had been holding the spaceports, turned on their brethren. Now loyal to Chaos, they killed division after division of Imperial Guard. The 1st Armored division, loyal to the Emperor, escaped the slaughter and retreated back to the warehouses of the White Scars. They were admitted and their wounded were treated. When Jaghatai heard of this he was furious. Through clenched teeth he growled, "I will make Chaos pay for their treachery towards my Father."

Chaos boiled past them. Hideous beings of every kind of vile contamination made up their force. They seethed around the buildings that the White Scars were crouching in silently. Soon, the first wave was gone. Jaghatai heard the sound of the fighting from the palace. He went to his troops and said. "White Scars, Now is the time. For everything we hold sacred, if we are to survive today, we must have the speed of the Cobra, and the power of the Lightning. Today I plan to win, or else I plan to die. Call the litanies of activation with strength and reverence. Today we die with glory and honor in the name of the EMPEROR! WHITE SCARS! FORWARD!" The White Scars launched themselves from their hiding place and shot across the destroyed city ruins towards the Imperial Palace. Standing on top his personal Rhino, Jaghatai Kahn announced his presence to the vile lords of Chaos, and to the loyal defenders on the Palace walls. Lifting his pistol into the air, Jaghatai launched one lone flare into the sky.

That day more died than on any other. The bodies of the dead lay in the rubble higher than the tops of doorframes. Vehicles drove over them, and troops marched on top of them like they were ground. The White Scars fought with a ferocity that rivaled, and sometimes surpassed, the berserk rage attributed to the Space Wolves. These warriors who were trained by the Emperor, fought like immortals, but they were not enough. They did not have the way of Do in their souls, and even though they took out a thousand Chaos warriors for every White Scar that fell, they still fell. In the end there were just too many traitors. Beyond Traitor Marines, there were Beast Men, and Daemons also. They fell from the sky in a rain of drop ships. For every traitor that died, three arose in its place to fight. The White Scars were losing. They had lost all of the fifth through eighth companies. The third company was cut off from the rest of the force, surrounded by Daemons. Jaghatai ordered them to hide and await his signal.

Jaghatai waded through the battle. "If only these foul Chaos could not be re-enforced so easily, we would have won this battle by now" he thought. He could tell the palace was cracking. Above it, in the air, a massive battle was taking place between Sanguinus and one of the Chaos Greater Deamons. Then inspiration took Jaghatai. Jaghatai turned his troops around. He barked into his comlink. "First and Second companies, prepare for a lightning attack on Lions Gate Space Port! Third Company, await my signal. 1st Armored Division Respond!"

"First Armored Division Here"

"This is Jaghatai Kahn of the White Scars. I am taking command of your Division. Leave the wounded, and take every available tank you have and on my command and cut us a wake to Lions Gate Space Port. Run over everything you see. If you are not fast enough I will catch you and kill you myself. Understood?!"

"Understood Primarch Kahn"

"Then on my mark!" Kahn felt the old power flow through him again like the day he crossed the White Scar Desert. "Now we drink the Souls of the Dead!" He screamed! "For THE EMPEROR AND ARIANA!" For the first time ever, Jaghatai launched a second flare into the sky.

The First Armored Division made good on their promise. Through ships, troops, buildings, parks, bodies, and tanks they cut a path to Lions Gate Space Port like the cut of a blade. In their wake, the remains of the White Scars followed. When they arrived, Jaghatai leapt from the top of his Rhino and onto the battlements. He was engulfed in the blood fury of the past. The First Armored Division drove ruined and burnt out tanks on top of each other until they formed a ramp from the ground, to the top of Lions Gate Spaceport. Jaghatai's rage rang in the ears of every White Scar. They sprinted up the ramp and after their Primarch.

In the end, there were no Chaos Survivors. Jaghatai turned on the Space Port's defense shield. He laughed as several Chaos Thunderhawks, cut off from the landing pads, crashed into the field and exploded. The White Scars had won. Space Marines manned the battlements, defending while the remnants of the 1st Armored division removed the ramp, and entered the gates. In the Space Port were fresh medical supplies and food and water, along with weapons and ammunition left by the forces of Chaos. Rejuvenated, the White Scars took and held the battlements. Jaghatai raised the Emperor's banner over the spaceport. Beneath that flew the red lightning-bolt symbol of the White Scars. Even from a distance he could see the troops on the Palace regain strength. The Emperor's troops had a victory. Thanks to the White Scars, the forces of Chaos had been cut in half. Thanks to the White Scars, there was hope!

Rogal Dorn's voice crackled over his comlink. "Good Work Kahn! But there is still trouble. I am sending half my remaining force to try and take Eternity Wall space port. The Emperor wants us here. Something is going on with the Chaos flagship. The Emperor needs us to defend against that traitor Horus. Sanguinius is wounded, perhaps too badly to fight. I am on the way to the Palace in the Sky Fortress. Once I am there, I will send it back for you."

"I understand" Kahn replied. "What of Russ and El'Johnson?"

"They will arrive in a few hours. If your men can hold off till then, they will be able to land, thanks to you. With those fresh supplies and troops we can change the tide of battle. But, I think that bastard Horus will try something before they get here. He knows he is about to be outnumbered. I'm sure he will have one last ditch effort to kill the Emperor."

The Sky Fortress never made it back to Lions Gate. After drooping off the Crimson Fist's Primarch, it was destroyed by a blaze of fire from the Death's Head Legion. Jaghatai watched in horror as his transportation to the Emperor's side was incinerated. Then history happened. Horus dropped his shields, and the Emperor, Dorn, and Sanguinius accepted the challenge. Before they crossed, Jaghatai heard Dorn.

"Kahn, where are you? Were attacking the flagship. KAHN! We need you, damn it! Respond!" The static of the teleporters cut off Kahn reply. All he could do is stare helpless towards the sky.

Jaghatai knew when Horus died. They were, after all, brothers. All the forces of Chaos fell into disarray. It was as if they had forgotten how to fight. They turned against each other as if they wished to wipe out any evidence of their own existence. The defenders cheered in triumph. Jaghatai shared none of their joy. Over the comlink came Dorn. "Kahn, Sanguinius is dead, and the Emperor has been mortally wounded. He has given instructions for a machine that may let him survive, but we cannot say for sure. Horus is dead. It took everything, but we stopped them. We have won."

"Yes," Jaghatai thought. "First my tactics lost my Ariana, and now my Father lays dying while I did nothing. We have won... but at what cost?"

When the Space Marines and the Dark Angels arrived, the White Scars let them land. Once Jaghatai told his brothers the story of what happened, he gathered his remaining troops together.

"Marines, you have fought valiantly today. But I know now that my inner spirit is flawed. I could have saved the Emperor, but now he lies dying. That is a shame I cannot bear. I am tired of war. You remain here and be awarded a hero's due. I am boarding the Constantius and returning to Denevar."

His lieutenants kneeled before him. "You are our Primarch" they vowed. "Where you go, we follow! We are too small to prove any more effectiveness. Let us come with you." Beside them kneeled the Commander of the First Armored Division.

"If the Emperor dies, then I pledge myself to you, Jaghatai Kahn of the White Scars. The lives of my men are already owed to you, and now we pledge our souls"

"Very well then," Jaghatai said heavily. "We will go to Denevar and rebuild." The Return of Jaghatai Kahn

When the Jaghatai returned to Denevar III, four hundred years after he had left. The people of Denevar had not forgotten him. Several troop transports launched from the space barge Constantius. They landed on the edge of the White Scar desert. The doors opened and Jaghatai was home.

Within an hour, across the hills at the desert, a troop of monks appeared. They were clothed in the white robes of battle, instead of the yellow and red of meditation. Confident and sure they marched towards Jaghatai.

Jaghatai addressed the monks when they came into earshot. In a weary voice he said," I am Jaghatai Kahn, he who created the Cobra warriors, and the Soul Drinkers. I am he who drove the Orks from Denevar. I have lost the way. I have returned home to find it"

The group of monks bowed their shaved heads in respect. Their leader walked forward. "I am Shinsori Kahn, grandson of Tenitsu Kahn. I am the leader of the warrior monks of the White Scar. Welcome home Grandfather. Our prophets said that you would return"

The reunion was a quiet one. The monks of Denevar simply accepted the new arrivals and began the process of integrating the Space Marines into the Orders. Heads were shaved, vows were taken, and litanies learned. Jaghatai and Shinsori talked for a long time. Shinsori was as fast and strong as any of the genetically altered Space Marines. He was nowhere close to the power of the Primarch. His lifespan, however, was much longer than his peers. His long life had allowed him to master many forms of Do, and he wore the title of Grand Master several times over. He became the leader of the Orders.

He told Jaghatai that although there were still a few Orks on Denevar, they were now only wild creatures. They were driven to madness, or to an animalistic existence after their race had been destroyed. The Order of Monks had even begun to farm the lands across the White Scar desert. The monks had remembered the battles. They had taken his military training and incorporated it into the way of Do. It kept the minds alert and the bodies strong and disease free.

Jaghatai told his grandson, "My mind is cracked, and my spirit has failed. I will go into the mountains and meditate until I am healed. I will leave you in charge of my Legion, for the Empire needs defenders. You will take those of the Orders that are the most worthy, and the Apothecaries of my force will teach you how to give them the power of the White Scars. While I am gone, you will rebuild the Chapter with monks."

He gave further instructions to Shinsori. While Jaghatai did not believe in heavy armored tanks that would slow a lightning assault down, he learned from the assault on Earth that they were sometimes needed. The members of the 1st Armored division were given progenitor glands, and a full Company status. Because of the small number of monks, and the great need for Marines, both men and women were taken. His greatest officers were given the mark of Soul Drinkers, and Company status. Monks of the Order of Jinn trained with Imperial Techmarines, and eventually were sent to Mars for further training, filling their books with new names. Those that were not chosen bore no grudge. Space Marine Monk and adept served side by side during the harvest.