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Avec tous les bruits de cris éteints jusqu'à l'haleine finale, Brenard était satisfait de son secteur était clair. Les bruits de coups de feu ailleurs dans le château semblaient aussi être morts, ce qui signifiait probablement que ses frères avaient trop fini leur travail. "Secteur clair." Brenard reconnut dans une voix sombre par vox qu'il se tourna pour se regrouper à l'entrée avec les autres. Il n'a pas été le moins surpris quand Kurak a ordonné que la purge s'étende au reste du complexe. C'était logique.
Un feu rouge froid et insensible brillait de sa barre alors que Brenard se tenait près de Kurak's World Eaters. La porte s'est ouverte, éclatant comme les vies qu'ils ont prises par boulonneuse et lame. La vision qui les a rencontrés de l'autre côté était quelque peu inattendue, mais pas du tout inconnue. Toutes les astartes avaient le même réflexe, pour éviter l'inévitable tempête de feu. Pourtant, la salle étroite était impitoyable, piquant les guerriers entre le mur et les bras impitoyables. C'est l'armure et les corps de ses frères traîtres-fils qui ont fourni à Brenard la couverture dont il avait besoin pour tirer une grenade. Il l'a jeté en avant quand il est tombé avec son pistolet. Le feu était si lumineux et les explosions intenses à cette distance rapprochée. Seuls ses modulateurs sensoriels l'empêchaient de devenir aveugle ou sourd, même brièvement.
Brenard ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de faire une prière réflexe, pour laquelle il s'est immédiatement donné des coups de pied, btu il n'y avait pas le temps d'y penser. La grenade qu'il avait jetée dans la direction générale déchiquetait une douzaine de vies et en blessait au moins autant, jetant le garde dans le désordre derrière un nuage de fumée et de tuiles de plafond défaillantes. A leur crédit, les armes sont toujours enflammées dans le hall. L'autocannon s'est étouffé à l'arrêt alors que son manipulateur tombait, éclaboussant des balles dans le mur dans une direction décalée. Brenard s'est levé. Il s'est levé. La colère de l'Empereur n'a pas encore été apportée.
Name: Brenard Volkstan
Age: 207
Legion: Goddamn Fucking Word Bearers
Planet of Origin: Terra
Physical Description:

Typical Word Bearer
Brenard is average height with short cropped grey hair and a comparatively youthful face. His eyes are a faded blue, creating an angelic color-scheme to his countenance. He's balding in the temples and has a few scars over his cranium and right cheek. His armor is the old Mk II pattern, originally slate grey, with finely chiseled Colchisian script so typical of his legion on the chestplate and gauntlets. The left pauldron bore the open book and flame icon of his legion and the right marked his company. As a Blackshield, all identifying symbols have been removed or painted over in black. Only the scratched out script etchings still present in his armor might indicate his legion of origin. He avoids showing his face.

Skillset:Brenard is a tactical and assault marine, although he has more experience with the former. He's shown superb skill in battle yet never enough it seemed for any significant promotion in his former legion which tended to favor Colchis-born space marines. He has experience with a fair variety of weapons, including a powermace.
History:
Brenard was sent down to Istvaan III with the rest of the Terran-born Word Bearers. Lorgar had to purge the few loyalist remnants from his own legion just as well as any of the other traitor primarchs, and the assault on Istvaan III was the one given opportunity. No one questioned Lorgar's strategy in who was sent into battle first. The legion obeyed their general as always. Since their still relatively recent reformation, the Word Bearers had been outstandingly successful in bringing worlds to compliance, and the opportunity to reclaim Istvaan from its rebellious planetary governor while fighting alongside their noble brother legions was a glorious affirmation that they had finally redeemed themselves. Brenard joined the fight with a telltale religious alacrity.
Word came from the Death Guard less than ten minutes before the virus bombs fell. What was originally an easy battle against less-capable forces instantly turned into a confused and desperate scramble for cover. The Mk III powerarmor suits were capable of shutting off all contact with the outside environment in case of biological hazards, but the entire surface of the planet was about to melt in a world-wide wave of fire. Brenard was able to take shelter with other loyalists of the Emperor's Children in the catacombs of Siren Hold.
The betrayal was clear. The fighting on the surface dragged on afterward for months. The world itself was dead with skies wracked by impenetrable storms. Initially, there was no way on or off the planet. The constant struggle to stay alive against primarchs that hunted you in the night took up all focus. This was fortunate, for to dwell too long contemplating what had actually happened drove many to insanity. Led by Tarvits, the surviving loyalists of each legion organized and fought a war of attrition until Horus was forced to abandon the world. Brenard survived by chance after being buried for 3 months underground all too close to Choral City when Horus gave his final sendoff. He was picked up some time later after digging himself out by an Imperial scouting mission that had returned to look for survivors.
Arrested, Brenard was shipped back home as a prisoner and interrogated. News of what happened subsequent to the Istvaan atrocities further devastated his mindset. Brenard can speak nothing to the defense of his legion, and he is grateful to at least be given the mercy of a death in battle.

Psychological Profile:
Like his primarch, Brenard suffers from heightened emotions and is similarly bad at dealing with them. He has managed to escape a fruitless state of perpetual denial and instead has turned his emotions inward in the form of extreme self hate. His legion and primarch disgust him to the point of uncontrolled violence, usually directed at himself. He is convinced there is no redemption from his cursed blood, and only suicidal vengeance against the traitors could even begin to justify his continued existence. He doesn't speak much, and dedicates his every breath to killing traitors or preparing to do so. He refuses to pray in any form, refuses to seek spiritual counsel... Brenard will no longer answer questions about his origins and identifies himself only as, "Shame."

Equipment:
Bolt pistol
Combat knife
Powerfist

Notes:I fucking hate Lorgar. Thus, this character should end up exemplifying the Blackshield mantra. I hope it's not excessively emo for you.