Khorne Victorious!

Skarbrand bellowed, exultant. He cleaved the brash young elven general in two, the twin axes of Slaughter and Carnage separating torso from legs in one swift motion. The force of the killing blow rent even the untouched elven horse beneath the unfortunate elf apart, splattering both creatures' crimson lifeblood on the pure white snow.

The presence of so many daemons had turned the landscape to waste, ice and snow swirling to the barren ground. The winds screeched their tortured cries, echoing the howls of the Flesh Hounds gorging themselves on the pitiful remnants of the White Lions. Behind the servants of Khorne, the multitude of foul creatures marched relentlessly forward. Now that all forseeable opposition had been crushed underfoot, the daemons could fulfil their purpose here on Ulthuan.

Skarbrand leapt over the dead bodies surrounding him and strode purposefully towards the cave on the side of the mountain. The remaining daemons formed a protective ring around the entrance and waited. Soon enough, Skarbrand emerged from the cave and held up a man-size egg in his hand. As he held it up, it began to glow red, its intensity increasing until it became a fiery orange. With that, Skarbrand roared, and the daemons began marching back into the portal from whence they had come. Now that the creature of the End Times had been claimed, they would await in the Realm of Chaos until their master called upon them once again for the final battle, when the elves would be all but gone and the strength of Man had been spent. For now, the dragon would be borne back to Khorne's brass citadel, and under the aegis of the God of War himself, this foul abomination will wreak havoc in the world for many ages to come, verily, until the end of the world...