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Blood was spilled for the Blood God, and skulls were taken for the Skull Throne. The Khornate warrior shouted and yelled as he charged, feeling the power of his rage coursing through his body, a living embodiment of his god. Taking his ax, he swung at the spectral apparition that appeared before him, a ghostly figure wreathed in unnatural and sickly green that permeated its dark robes and skeletal face. A Nighthaunt. Most men would have been afraid, terrified even of the creature so freshly raised from death, but the berserker was not like most men. He had chosen his lot with Khorne, the mightiest of the Choas Gods, a true champion of combat and warfare, unlike that pretender Sigmar! "I am Kuungar, Blade of Khorne, and even you shall feel that sting of my ax!" he yelled, bellowing from his lungs as he charged mad with war frenzy into the fray of undead appirations. If "Kuungar, Blade of Khorne" had been taught and educated in academies and universities of the urban cities, he might