Brenard s'élança devant, bargeant dans le hall ouvert avec le boulonpistol levé. L'élément de surprise l'avait jusqu'à présent protégé, et il a vidé un clip, un coup pour chaque mortel devant lui tandis qu'il progressait lentement. Gardiens, délégués, épouses, seigneurs de ruche, et tous les chefs de culte dispersés pour les voies d'évasion. Les rondelles en bas calibre ont piqué son armure noire inoffensif, car les quelques personnes assez courageuses pour faire face à sa direction essayaient leur chance. L'instinct de Brenard les a pris en premier, leur objectif à lui de les marquer comme des cibles plus prioritaires à ses yeux. La résistance s'est effondrée avec l'abattage des braves.
L'ancien porteur de mots continua, se rechargeant automatiquement. 2, 3... dans cette pièce, 1 derrière la table renversée. Brenard l'a fait sauter à travers le bois. Les cris et les malédictions venant de la gauche, doivent aller voir la chambre d'à côté... C'était assez nonchalant. Il n'y a rien à penser ici. Juste pour tuer. Ces hérétiques traîtres mourraient rapidement, car "Shame" était venu pour eux. Cette mission serait bientôt terminée, et le commandement impérial serait rétabli. Alors, bien sûr, il y aurait une prochaine mission après celle-ci. Brenard espérait que cela se révélerait plus difficile que de simplement enfiler quelques-uns des dirigeants planétaires non préparés et leur entourage étouffant. Ce genre de mission facile était pour les marines de l'espace que l'Imperium voulait garder autour. Brenard méritait quelque chose de plus risqué, quelque chose où sa mort servirait probablement à sauver un autre espace marin pour venir après lui, quelqu'un de plus digne de confiance.
Et ainsi il tua, en écoutant vaguement les appels vox de ses frères pour être conscient de leurs progrès.
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.