Archaon

"So soon the hour of fate comes around. The Everchosen stirs from his dark throne
and prepares the blow that shall split the world asunder. Realms of old have fallen,
lost beneath the fury of the northlands, or smothered by vermin from below. Some
heroes battle on, too stubborn to realise all hope is lost. Their time is past, and a
new age of Chaos and dismay beckons. Perhaps I am foolish also, for I fight with
no hope of victory. I seek only to weaken the Dark Gods, to shake their hold upon
the future. No other course remains; not to mortals, nor the Divine."

—Prophecy of the End Times.

Archaon

Vital statistics
Full Name
Archaon (formerly Diederick Kastner)
Reign
2519 - 2528 IC

Predecessor
Asavar Kul

Successor
None

Noble House
Varg Tribe

Seat of Power
None

Archaon, born Diederick Kastner, is the current Everchosen of Chaos,

the Three-Eyed King and Lord of the End Times, and the self-proclaimed
supreme champion of the four Gods of Chaos who was sent to command the last
and greatest Chaos invasion during the apocalyptic age known simply as the End
Times.

Of all the Everchosen of Chaos who have assailed the world over the ages,
Archaon is by far the most ruthless and perhaps the most powerful. He decided the
fate of entire nations, his sword laid waste to heroes and armies and his
unbreakable will dominated those of the gods themselves.

Archaon is truly the "Herald of the Apocalypse," blessed with dreadful artefacts of
ancient evil, each one bestowed as a reward for accomplishing impossible trials. In
his journey, he claimed the legendary Six Treasures of Chaos which marked him
as the Everchosen.

Upon retrieving the last of the treasures, the Crown of Domination, the Daemon

Prince Be'lakor performed the coronation that made Archaon the Lord of the End
Times. As the crown was fully placed, the last spark of Archaon's humanity was
finally extinguished, as he finally accepted the gods of Chaos to be the true rulers
of the cosmos.

With his quest finally complete, Archaon set forth to assault the world as the Herald
of the Apocalypse, a warrior who did the unthinkable and succeeded where
hundreds of other Champions had failed.
 In the climax of the End Times, Archaon battled the God-King Sigmar and brought
about the final end of the Warhammer World as it was consumed by a tide of
Chaos that unmade the very fabric of reality.

Contents
 1 History
o 1.1 The Great Quest
o 1.2 Preparing for the End Times
o 1.3 Storm of Chaos
o 1.4 The End Times
 1.4.1 The Death of the Wolf God (2527 IC)
 1.4.2 The End of All Things (2528 IC)
 1.4.3 The World's Ending... and a New Beginning
 2 Six Treasures of Chaos
 3 Sources
History
"Fear me mortals, for I am the Anointed, the favoured Son of Chaos, the Scourge
of the World. The armies of the gods rally behind me, and it is by my will and by my
sword that your weakling nations shall fall."

—Archaon, Lord of the End Times.

Archaon was originally known as Diederick Kastner, a highly devout and
zealous Templar of the Twin-Tailed Comet, born a scant few years after Magnus
the Pious and the first Great War against Chaos. Though Diederick Kastner,
the man who would in his despair take up the dreaded mantle of Archaon, was
born as an Imperial in the province of Nordland, it was foretold in the Liber
Caelistior, the dread book of divination penned by Necrodomo the Insane, that
North and South would meet in the Everchosen's blood.
And indeed this was so; for Archaon bears
mixed Norscan and Nordlander heritage, his father having been
a possessed champion from the Varg tribes who forced himself upon a cowering
Imperial innocent during a raid that had seen his birth-village of Hargendorf burned
to the ground in 2390IC.
With the death of his mother, and the hatred of his step-father for his bastard
origins, the rape-spawned child would later go on to be adopted by a
local Sigmarite Priest and become a Knight-Templar of the Order of the Twin-
Tailed Orb, fighting valorously and faithfully in the service of the God-King Sigmar.

But once his true heritage and destiny were revealed to him, Diederick Kastner
despaired and looked for salvation, travelling many miles towards the heart of his
faith.
Upon the massive Holy Temple of Sigmar in Altdorf, the cursed Templar knelt
before the Golden Statue of Sigmar and begged for a sign, to ask for his help from
the darkness that had come to consume him. But the golden statue stood silent,
and with its unspoken words, the Templar knew that it was hopeless.

He renounced the gods of the south but still affirmed his hatred for the dark gods of
his father, accepting the cruel destiny engineered for him as a final means to repay
the Fates for the evil they had done upon him. Thus did Diederick become Archaon
the Everchosen, the Three-Eyed King, greatest of all the Champions of Chaos.

His deeds legend and his armies vast, innumerable foes of dauntless might lie
bleeding in his calamitous stride. But deep inside, he wholly resents the Chaos
Gods and the misery they have brought upon him.

Thus the half-Norscan warlord stood ready to fulfil his destiny and to usher at the
end of all things, and in the very end, he faced the very god of his people that he
had once called lord, and of all Mankind.

The Great Quest

"Forged from the other world, six treasures shall he possess... Upon his head the
crown shall see all, and open eyes will prove woe to mortal kind... Then shall he
ride unto the World... Then will the World know that the last war has begun..."

—Prophecy of Fate, recorded in the Book of Divination by Necrodomo the

Insane.
So it was that Archaon journeyed into the Chaos Wastes for nearly 100 years,
searching for the legendary artefacts that would exalt him and reveal his true
destiny as the next Everchosen. The first treasure he sought was a unique Mark of
Chaos, that bore the blessings of all four Ruinous Powers in unison. It combined all
of the advantages of the individual Marks of Chaos, blessing the bearer with all
their power.

The first part of Archaon's dark quest was to go to the Altar of Ultimate

Darkness in Naggaroth and offer himself to the Chaos Gods to gain their favour
and recognition. He gathered a small band of Chaos Warriors he called the Swords
of Chaos and battled his way to a citadel so tall it appeared to
pierce Morrslieb itself.
Inside the citadel, it was said to be blacker than even the heart of a Dark Elf soul,
for when one of Archaon's followers attempted to light a torch, it was snuffed out
instead by the all-consuming darkness. Archaon was unafraid and marched off
alone with his steed into the darkness.

As he continued to march, an untold number of creatures had thrown themselves

upon the potential Everchosen. In this dire moment, his loyal steed was consumed
by these monsters and realising the death of a loyal friend he had known since his
early years as a squire spurred Archaon into a killing frenzy. Within a matter of
hours, he was able to slay hundreds of the misshapen monsters that had infested
the mighty citadel, until finally his sword-arm turned numb and the ground grew
slippery with the blood and gore of the fallen.
Rising up from the filth, Archaon reconsecrated the altar to the Gods of Chaos,
offering up the hearts of the creatures that had crawled in and defiled it. When he
emerged he bore the eternally burning Mark of Chaos on his forehead. 

The next artifact he sought was the Armour of Morkar, the armour worn by the very
first Everchosen. It made the wearer invulnerable to all but the most powerful of
attacks, making the wearer nigh-unstoppable in the heat of combat. After leaving
Naggaroth on a stolen ship made of black metal and pulled by a massive sea-
drake, Archaon took leadership of a seafaring war band along the way to his
destination.
They sailed to a mysterious land populated with savage half-humans. Neither sun
nor moon had ever touched their pallid skin and after six days and six nights of
battle, the city of these creatures had been reduced to rubble. Archaon delved
deep into their necropolis until he found the Tomb of Morkar and the armour he
sought.
However, as Archaon reached out to take it, the spirit of Morkar animated the
armour and attacked him. The vengeful spirit laid down a relentless flurry of blows
until Archaon cursed it in the language of the Unberogen tribe. The attack ceased
for a moment, and Archaon smashed him aside, banishing the spirit of Morkar and
allowing him to claim the armour as his own. 
Then there was the Eye of Sheerian, which was named after
the Tzeentchian Sorcerer who discovered it. Although on its own it grants the
bearer prophetic powers, when placed in the Crown of Domination it allows the
bearer to predict and avoid the attacks of the enemy.
After claiming the Armour of Morkar, Archaon set out to retrieve the Eye of
Sheerian. At that time it lay in the lair of the Chaos Dragon Flamefang, who valued
the Eye above all of its other treasures. Archaon placed his claim for the Eye by
smashing his axe into Flamefang's head. Long did man and monster battle at the
base of the Cliff of Beasts.
Flamefang breathed fire and even swallowed Archaon whole, but the Armour of
Morkar protected him from its acidic stomach. Archaon hacked his way out of the
dragon's gullet with the ferocity of a Flesh Hound, until Flamefang's throat was
hacked to shreds and it died of exhaustion and blood loss. Archaon plucked
the Eye of Sheerian from its place on the belly of the dragon and hung it around his
neck as his rightful reward.
The next treasure to be won was the dreaded demonic mount of Agrammon.
Alternatively known as "Dorghar," "Ghurshy'ish'phak," "Yrontalie," or the "Steed of
the Apocalypse", this daemonic beast was stolen from the menagerie of
the Daemon Prince Agrammon in the Realm of Chaos.

Archaon battled his way past the Daemons guarding Agrammon's palace and
sneaked inside, hiding beneath a beast that was part man, part mammoth and part
insect. Inside was every beast imaginable, and some that are not.

Archaon tracked Dorghar through the menagerie by its sulfurous stench. When he
found it he vaulted on to its back. The Steed of the Apocalypse changed shape and
burst into flames, but Archaon was able to break it like a wayward stallion and
escape from the Realm of Chaos.

Eventually, he sought a legendary Chaos Blade, known by many as the Slayer of

Kings which was the sacred blade of Vangel, the second Everchosen. He bound
the Greater Daemon U'zuhl into the blade, and the millennia of imprisonment have
sent it insane with rage and fury. It was said to rest at the top of Chimera Plateau,
located near the roof of the world, where Archaon and his steed Dorghar has
journeyed.

The warriors battling around the plateau saw the determination and destiny of
Archaon, and he quickly gathered a huge horde of followers to wage war against
the Chimera's. They swiftly defeated the Chimera hordes guarding the higher
passes where Archaon and his three companions climbed to the top of the plateau.
From the top, Archaon looked down on the world, swearing that he would one day
rule over all of it.

Suddenly, what he had taken for a mountain behind him turned over in its sleep,
causing a series of earthquakes in the lands below. Archaon soon realised that the
mountain was actually the father of the Dragon Ogre race, Krakanrok the Black.
Even he could not defeat such a foe, so instead, he and his companions sneaked
past the titanic monster, only to find that the Slayer of Kings was clasped into its
chest.
Prince Ograx the Great, the strongest of Archaon's companions, was able to lift up
one of Krakanrok's talons high enough for Archaon to retrieve the Daemonsword.
However, the Daemon bound inside began to shriek with deafening volume.
As Krakanrok began to stir, Archaon thought fast and plunged the Slayer of
Kings into Prince Ograx's chest. With the blade's thirst quenched with royal blood,
Archaon was able to sheath it and return from the plateau to the cheers of his
followers, carrying his blade with him throughout all his battles.
After many years of endless journeying, Archaon finally gathered all of the artefacts
save one. Forged before the dawn of man, the Crown of Domination once held
the Eye of Sheerian, but had since been lost to history. It struck terror into the
bearer's foes and gave strength to his very allies.
Decades after finding the Slayer of Kings, Archaon still had no clue as to the
whereabouts of this ancient battle-helm. Eventually Be'lakor revealed its location,
planning to steal the crown after Archaon found it. The crown lay in the First Shrine
to Chaos, high on an icy peak in the Worlds Edge Mountains. Be'lakor led Archaon
up the mountain, the Steed of the Apocalypse carrying him over the most difficult
terrain.
The Coronation of Archaon.
After a day and a half of ceaseless climbing, Archaon stood before the massive
double gate that was the entrance to the shrine. Through the gateway was a
labyrinth filled with dire beasts and vengeful Daemons. Archaon was tested by
each of the Chaos Gods to see if he was truly worthy to be the Everchosen.

Nurgle sent deadly diseases that Archaon fought off with sheer

willpower. Tzeentch created a labyrinth of crystal, but Archaon blindfolded himself
and used instinct alone to navigate it. Slaanesh sent temptation after temptation,
but Archaon resisted, never diverting from the path to the inner gates of the shrine.
After passing through the inner gates, Archaon found himself on a narrow
causeway surrounded by hellfire that scorched his skin and burnt away his hair.
Suddenly, a mighty Bloodthirster of Khorne erupted from the flames and attacked
the potential Everchosen.
The Greater Daemon was strong, but Archaon drew strength from the Slayer of
Kings and wrested the Bloodthirster's weapons away and strangled it with its own
whip. The hellfire died away, leaving Archaon gravely injured and standing in a
simple shrine. A throne stood at the back of the shrine, with a withered corpse
sitting upon it.
On the top of its withered skull sat the Crown of Domination. Archaon took the
crown and, with his wounds healing and frame swelling with power, he held it to the
heavens. After over a century of searching, he had claimed the title of Everchosen.
All that he needed now was a coronation.
Upon retrieving the crown, the daemon prince Be'lakor performed the coronation
that made Archaon the Lord of the End Times. The new Everchosen proceeded to
muster the largest army ever seen by mortal kind. It was from that day forward that
the last spark of Archaon's humanity had been extinguished, and the last of the
Everchosen finally and firmly embraced the destiny that now lay before him.

Preparing for the End Times

"Let us not seek reward. Let us not ask for power. Let us not wait on that which is
given. Let us take what is ours. Darkness is ours. Ruin is ours. The world turns
beneath our feet for the taking. Real power resides not with gods or any following
but with those who take it from them. I am Archaon, doom to my enemies, doom to
all the world, doom to all the gods invested in that world. Come with me."

—Archaon the Everchosen.

Archaon soon built a large army that only grew with tales of his exploits spreading
among the followers of Chaos. Holding court in the Inevitable City, he awaited the
allegiance of the chieftains of uncountable tribes and warbands who served the
Dark Gods.
Even his challengers could be brought to his side. At the Battle of the Monoliths,
Archaon crushed an army commanded by Arch-Lector Kurt Mannfeld, consisting of
Kislevites, troops from the Empire and dwarfs. After defeating him, Archaon forced
Mannfeld to renounce Sigmar and became a Champion of Chaos. In this manner,
Archaon managed to build one of the largest armies of Chaos that had ever
existed.
Storm of Chaos

Attention, Empire Citizens!

This article contains information regarding the Storm of Chaos alternative ending,

Archaon's plan was to conquer Middenheim, the city of Sigmar's own patron

god, Ulric, and extinguish the sacred flame of the Winter God with his own
corrupted body. If the flame went out, the world would be shrouded in an
everlasting winter. In this new era of frost and death, the End Times would begin in
earnest, heralded by a Storm of Chaos.
Preparing his army, four Champions of the Chaos Gods won his favour. Haargroth
the Blooded, Melekh the Changer, Feytor the Tainted and Styrkaar were to lead
armies dedicated to the Dark Gods, while Archaon led a force consisting of the
followers of all four Chaos Gods.
Volkmar the Grim, the Grand Theogonist of Sigmar, travelled north to stop
Archaon's legions before they could set off for the south. With a large army of
fanatical flagellants and forces from the Elector Count of Talabecland behind him,
Volkmar faced the Swords of Chaos in the Troll Country and even challenged
Archaon himself for a duel.

The Everchosen won by unleashing the daemon U'zuhl from his sword, defeating
the Grand Theogonist with a single blow and shattering his war altar.

Sending a vanguard force under Surtha Lenk, the lands of Kislev were soon
devastated. A large battle was fought at Wolfenburg, but the city was razed by the
armies of Chaos.
When Lenk was defeated at Mazhorod, Archaon led the bulk of his forces directly
into the territory of the Empire itself. Allying with Khazrak One-Eye and
the Beastmen warherds of Drakwald, Archaon managed to surround Middenheim
while the rest of his armies engaged the forces of the Empire and its allies
elsewhere.
Despite laying siege for several months and wreaking untold destruction,
Middenheimm stubbornly resisted the Everchosen. Archaon was forced to retreat
back to the village of Sokh.
Here, the Everchosen was confronted by the armies of the Empire, lead by Valten,
Sigmar's chosen. The two clashed and managed to slay each other's mounts. In
this moment of weakness, Archaon was beaten and defeated by Grimgor Ironhide.
The Everchosen was forced to flee from the battlefield and went into hiding in
the Middle Mountains.
The End Times

Attention, Empire Citizens!

This article contains information regarding the End Times, the actual c

"So soon the hour of fate comes around. The Everchosen stirs from his dark throne
and prepares the blow that shall split the world asunder. Realms of old have fallen,
lost beneath the fury of the northlands, or smothered by vermin from below. Some
heroes battle on, too stubborn to realise all hope is lost. Their time is past, and a
new age of Chaos and dismay beckons. Perhaps I am foolish also, for I fight with
no hope of victory. I seek only to weaken the Dark Gods, to shake their hold upon
the future. No other course remains; not to mortals, nor the Divine."

—Prophecy of the End Times.

Archaon, the Herald of the Apocalypse.
When Archaon finally completed his centuries-long odyssey throughout the dark
places of the world and was crowned as the Lord of the End Times, he immediately
sought to add the remaining Northern tribes who had not yet pledged themselves
to his apocalyptic banner to his vast armies.
Within a short time, Archaon succeeded in bringing every last tribe, clan or warrior-
band that had ever vied for control of the tainted Northlands under his iron-fisted
rule. Bloodthirsty Aeslings and barbaric Baersonlings, wily Skaelings and sea-
faring Sarls, twisted Vargs, savage Graelings and berserker Bjornlings and a
thousand other hard-hearted Norse tribes aside, all did answer the Everchosen's
call.
The heroes of the North flocked to Archaon's banner -- Wulfrik the
Wanderer, Valnir the Reaper, Sigvald the Magnificent, and countless other heroes
who thirsted for the chance to prove themselves in the Final Battle before the Dark
Gods.
With the coming of late autumn, the Norscan tribes charged down from the north
upon the realm of Kislev, the 1000th year of the nation's storied history by the
Gospodarin calendar. But this was to be its last. The city of Praag fell swiftly to the
howling fury of the horde, while Erengrad fared only slightly better, barely holding
out against Archaon's armies before falling swiftly to midnight reavers in wolfships
that unloaded lethal cargoes of insane Chaos Warriors and berserkers.

The Chaos hordes burned the city's western seaport to the ground before putting
all its inhabitants to the sword. The city of Kislev -- that legendary bastion which
shared its name with its kingdom, was taken by storm in a single night of terrifying
bloodshed; its proud walls reduced to rubble, thick with screaming forests of
impaled men, women and children.

Those few of Kislev's people who still lived rallied behind the Tzarina Katarin, who
had miraculously survived the slaughter of the city of Kislev. Under her leadership,
the ragged remnants of the Kislevite nation staged a doomed resistance against
the depredations of the Norsemen and their allies.
In the end, their struggle proved pointless, for the Norsemen rampaged throughout
the scorched remains of the nation and killed and plundered where they wished,
taking resources and testing themselves for the true battle against the
hated Empire that lay further south. Tzarina Katarin and her followers were
eventually slain at their final stand at the ruins of Erengrad. With no further
resistance, Archaon led the Norsemen further southwards.
Realising that they could not withstand the hordes of Norsca, the Imperial Supreme
Patriarch Balthasar Gelt raised a massive wall many miles long that stood like a
flood gate that held the hordes of Chaos at bay.
This mighty barrier was named Auric's Bastion. A massive construct of magic and
faith that would span the immense Imperial-Kislevite border, no amount of magic or
cannonry could ever hope to breach it.

However, the Bastion could not fully prevent the Norsemen from crossing into the
Empire. Warbands, led by particularly bloodthirsty or foolhardy chieftains, scaled
the towering edifice and managed to raid villages and besiege scattered fortresses.

The most significant of these warbands was the horde of the Kurgan chieftain

Festak Kran, a champion of Nurgle. His warband succeeded in pushing deep into
the western Empire, causing much havoc before he was eventually stopped by the
heroism of Valten, the Champion of Sigmar. Festark Kran's death, however, would
not stop Archaon from achieving his goal.
The Death of the Wolf God (2527 IC)

"I am the Final Moment made flesh. I stand here on this mountain, and I will sit on
this throne. I will be the axis upon which the wheel of change turns, and the world
will drown in the light of unborn stars."

—Archaon, Lord of the End Times.

The Wolf at the World's Ending.

Archaon, the Three-Eyed, Warrior-King of the North, High King of Norsca, High Zar
of Kurgan, Everchosen of the Dark Gods and the greatest warrior ever to walk the
world, was on the march.

In his wake came the full might of all the North -- every tribe and warrior of Norsca
who had proffered sword-oath that they might fight the Final, Glorious battle to seal
the fate of the world. Upon this mighty Horde were all the eyes of their ascendant
gods.

The mighty fleet of longships made landfall upon the straits of Kislev, unopposed,
but not unobserved. A thousand-thousand beady red eyes that watched from the
shadows widened in fear as tribe after tribe of savage Norscans waded ashore.
Soon, the old Nordland coast was thick for miles with black-armoured, horn-helmed
Northlanders. Yet still, the warriors of the North flooded the shore. The veil
between worlds was rent by the sickly luminescence of the black halo that was the
remains of the Witch-Moon Morrsleib, causing hordes of daemons to caper into
blasphemous existence on the edges of the great freigattur.
So vast and anarchic an army should have taken weeks to order if they could be
ordered at all. Yet all warriors of the horde felt the oppressive weight of their king
as keenly as any steel blade and bent to it without question. The Council of
Thirteen and their Skaven hordes, disarmed by the notion of the full might of the
savage North being marshalled at the time of their triumph, made the decision to
ingratiate themselves with the Chaos host lest they engender their complete
annihilation by standing in the path of the barbarians.
The great Northern King accepted the Under-Empire's fealty. The Skaven would be
allowed to serve. They were, after all, true children of Chaos just as
the Beastmen were, and their particular talents would prove invaluable in the
coming days.
Just as Archaon's freigattur marched in apocalyptic step, so too did Middenheim's
defenders ready themselves for the horde's onslaught. Valten, Herald of Sigmar
and champion of the Empire, had ridden hard for Middenheim, seeking to bolster
the city's legendary defences with his own mighty force.
Elector Count Boris Todbringer, consumed with his vendetta against his long time
rival, Khazrak One-Eye, had resolved, despite the dissent of his nobles and
the Knights of the White Wolf, to sally forth into the Drakwald and slay the beast
once and for all. In his stead, he made Valten the acting lord of all Middenheim.

The loss of Boris Todbringer in a foolish quest for vengeance severely weakened
the great city, leaving it vulnerable to the massed Norse horde. Nevertheless,
Valten was determined to carry out his charge and protect the people of
Middenheim.

With the aid of the two greatest gods of the Empire -- Sigmar and Ulric, the warrior
was certain he would be able to bring Archaon himself to battle and slay him. For
the Three-Eyed King's part, he knew of Valten well and was equally determined to
slay the preening southlander to further prove the lie of the false idols he called
gods.
The Aeslings assault the ramparts of Middenheim.
The slaughter began as battle was joined at the walls of Middenheim. To be a man
of the North at that time was to walk in the wake of legend itself --  Ragnar
Painbringer, Sven Bloody-Hand, Engra Deathsword, Wulfrik the Wanderer, Valkia
the Bloody, Sigvald the Magnificent, Scyla Anfingrimm, Valnir the Reaper and a
thousand other legendary names of dark renown and terror thundered across the
field, leading their tribesmen across a bloody field to face the cowardly
Middenlanders who perched atop their mountain fastness dreading the wrath of the
Northmen.

Warbands of savage Aeslings charged up the ramparts, driving their bloody axes
into the flesh of their enemies while roaring bestial praises to the Lord of Blood.
Barbarian Bjornlings braved the hail of cannon fire and crossbow bolts as they
locked their massive kite shields and slowly took the pathways of the labyrinthine
city.

The tribes of Norsca fought on, with the grim fatalistic determination of their race
they hacked and slew for the glory of their hateful gods. Yet despite the onslaught,
the men of Middenheim took to heart for they recalled the ancient legends of their
forefathers that told that the city of Ulric would remain unconquered so long as the
flame of the god burned.

Yet below the Fauschlag, their fate was already being sealed. For Teclis,
Loremaster of Ulthuan, was enacting the next foolish step of his ill-conceived plan
to defeat Chaos in order to foster the resurrection of his brother Tyrion, now
cleansed of the Curse of Aenarion, into the Incarnate of Light.

To revive his brother, he would need the energies of the first and mightiest of the
gods of the Empire -- Ulric himself, whose physical embodiment in the world
burned as a blinding flame within the great mountain -- the fire burning above but a
pale facsimile.
Teclis stole the flame, thus slaying the great Ulric. Arrogantly believing his plan to
be the only way to save the world from Chaos, the Dark Gods laughed heartily as
the foolish High Elf mage only precipitated the annihilation he had sought to
prevent.

The people of Middenheim let out a desolate cry of sorrow and horror
unimaginable as the Flame of Ulric at last guttered and gave out with their deity's
death. Only one Imperial stood resolute against the tide of northern warriors, in his
hand the hammer of Sigmar himself. Valten reaped a terrible toll from amongst the
legends of the North, for many heroes of Norsca sought to slay him for the glory of
the gods and favour of their king.

Archaon faces Valten in single combat.

At last, Archaon himself had taken the field. He sought out Valten and brought him
to single combat. The Three-Eyed King mocked Sigmar's champion, calling him
unworthy of the man-god's ancient hammer.

And though Valten was a peerless warrior amongst his own kind, it was truly not
within his mind to vanquish the Everchosen. The Ulricsmund shook with the battle
as U'zuhl, the Slayer of Kings and Ghal Maraz clashed again and again.

The two warriors traded earth-shattering blows in an intricate waltz of destruction,

strikes that could have annihilated any mortal man dozens of times over. Two
destinies at war, the skeins of fate straining to control their struggle as the rest of
the battle simply faded into the background, where heroes lived and died in their
dozens.

Yet here was the only contest that mattered. The future of all creation would be
decided, either by the Slayer of Kings or the Splitter of Skulls.
The raging battle ceased for a moment when Gregor Martak, filled with the last
withered godspark of Ulric, attempted to intervene and swing the pendulum of
combat in Valten's favour. As it transpired, the Herald of Sigmar's death was not by
the edge of Archaon's mighty daemonblade, but by the hand of
Verminlord Skreech Verminking, who decapitated the Herald of Sigmar.
The Eye of Sheerien flared like a dying star, and as all who gathered felt Archaon's
godlike rage, a force unto itself that washed over all present as a wave of
agonizing, incandescent heat burned clean away the smoke and drove back the
shadow.

The skies buckled with the Three-Eyed King's fury as a bolt of sorcerous lightning
sundered the skies and smote the Temple of Ulric. The Everchosen set down the
corpse of his rival and rose, his anger at being denied this prophesied battle a thing
to cow the gods themselves.

The Everchosen weathered the cold fury of Gregor Martak's spells, wading out
from the arcane blizzards he conjured as though they were no more substantial
than fog. Contemptuously, he raised up the Supreme Patriarch by the throat and
slew him with his blade.

Without the inspiration of his presence to give them hope, the defenders of
Middenheim quickly disintegrated in the face of Valten's demise and the immensity
of the Norscan army. Their few remaining positions were quickly overrun, the
ragged survivors pursued unto death by their victorious foes.

Thus the worst had come to pass, with the Norsemen playing out the final steps of
annihilation begun by their ancestors when Cormac Bloodaxe led his mighty horde
upon Sigmar's empire all those many centuries ago.

Middenheim had fallen.

The End of All Things (2528 IC)

"So soon the hour fate comes around. The Everchosen stirs from his dark throne
and prepares the blow that shall split the world asunder. Realms of old have fallen,
lost beneath the fury of the northlands, or smothered by vermin from below. Some
heroes battle on, too stubborn to realise all hope is lost. Their time is past, and a
new age of Chaos and dismay beckons. Perhaps I am foolish also, for I fight with
no hope of victory. I seek only to weaken the Dark Gods, to shake their hold upon
the future. No other course remains; not to mortals, nor the Divine."

—Lileath, Goddess of Prophecy.

Archaon, seated upon the throne of a dying world.
Archaon was now in ascendance; Middenheim was undoubtedly the proudest
conquest of the Norscans' long and storied history, for its capture was an
unmatched humiliation of the weakling gods of the Empire. Particularly if Sigmar,
the ancient foe of the North. The hated Empire of the south was all but vanquished
-- Altdorf had been reduced to a festering ruin, Talabheim was now a scorched
waste and Middenheim had been transformed into the staging ground from where
the Northmen would strike the final blow against Sigmar's heirs. Only Averheim,
capital of the province of Averland, stood unbowed against the bite of Norse steel.
Archaon had claimed the Temple of Ulric as his hall in the many months since he
and his Norsemen had laid the city low. His throne forged from the bones of Ulric's
priests, and the hammer of Ghal Maraz set upon it as a trophy -- a testament to the
supremacy of the Dark Gods of the North over the deities of the south.

There, Archaon received the supplications of his warriors and daemons who were
oath-pledged before the gods to his service. Once, the temple had been
illuminated by the Fire of Ulric, but that callow flame had proven no more divine
than the dim torches that hung upon the walls of the defiled temple.

Ulric had been shown to be a lie, just as Sigmar was a lie. With the conquest of
Middenheim, the Everchosen had proven the former. With the skull of
the Emperor Karl Franz, he would prove the latter.
The Three-Eyed King had already set the wheels in motion for the doom of the
world, having dispatched tribes to batter Middenheim under the command of Vilitch
the Curseling. The tribes dedicated to Tzeentch fell upon the city, roaring out bleak
warriors' songs as they battered the walls of the Averburg with Hellcannon fire, and
black-armoured northlanders had climbed up the rubble of fallen walls to slake their
bloodthirst upon the men of Averheim.
Yet at the final moment, where the final fall of Averheim was assured, salvation for
the southmen was found in the arrival of Sigmar Heldenhammer and the last
surviving warriors of the Empire. With the Dwarfen warriors of Karak Kadrin, led by
their mighty king Ungrim Ironfist, the Emperor successfully drove back the
Tzeentchians and freed Averheim of their fury.
Back at his hall at Middenheim, Archaon had realised that the time for deception
and feint had long passed. Now dawned the hour of murder and slaughter.
Unsheathing his mighty blade, he slew the Greater Daemon of Tzeentch Kairos
Fateweaver, beheading the abomination and taking his blood as the sacrament
with which to honour the greatest of all the Dark Gods -- Khorne.
From the blood and broken corpse rose the mightiest of
Khorne's Bloodthirsters -- Ka'Bandha, Lord of the Third Host, who pledged his
service to Archaon for it was the murderous will of the Bloodfather. With the aid of
the Bloodthirster, Archaon gathered the most brutal Norscans into a terrifying army
dubbed the "Berserker Onslaught," commanded by himself and two of the most
favoured Khornate champions of Norse blood -- Valkia the Bloody and Scyla
Anfingrimm. The three Norsemen led the horde southwards upon Averheim, intent
on breaking the last vestige of Imperial resistance.

The northern skyline was soon choked with skull-laden banners and the air rang
out with the discordant shrieking of savage Norscan war-songs. Many were the
renowned warriors gathered into the ranks of the Berserker Onslaught -- the mighty
Skaramor clans, the merciless warriors of Valkia's Bloodied Horde, fresh from their
victory over the armies of Naggaroth in the far north, and many others whose
blades thirsted for Southling blood.
But scant hours after Archaon's personal standard had crested the skyline did the
Berseker Onslaught charge -- and Averheim rocked with the bellow of drumbeat
and the roar of battlecry.

The Norscans fall upon Averheim.

The Norse charged forth at the great northern wall of Averheim, throwing massive
heavy-bladed axes and daggers at their foes atop the battlements. A rain of hellish
cannon fire greeted them as they thundered across the Aver Valley. Thousands
fell, many hundreds more were gravely injured, but so immersed with the fury of
Khorne were the Norse that they weathered the endless hail and climbed over the
mounds of their dead to avenge themselves upon the cowardly Imperials.

Oaths to Sigmar, Grimnir and the Lady of the Lake were drowned out by bellowing

roars as the berserkers called out the eight-thousand bloody names of Khorne as it
finally came to be the Northlanders' time to wreak slaughter. Few Southmen could
match the fury of the Norsemen, and even fewer the endless wrath of the
bloodthirsty champions of Khorne.
Soon, the trickle of Norscans upon the walls transformed into a mighty flood and all
foes broke before them. Not even the mighty knights of Bretonnia and the
grim Dwarfs of Zhufbarak and Karak Kadrin could stand long before the savage
fury of the North.
The Onslaught had devolved into little more than a wild mob of savage warriors by
the time they had reached the Steilstrasse. Drunk on slaughter and caked in offal,
crimson-armoured Norse champions thundered forth on brass-
skinned Juggernauts, their runed axes reaping a frightening toll from their foes.
Matchless warriors of the Skullrage, legendary Norsii knights said to have fought at
the side of Morkar the Uniter himself, duelled with the greatest Bretonnian knights.
Even where their riders were slain, their Juggernauts continued their fight lost in a
shard of Khorne's everlasting rage.

Towards the east wall, the shield walls of Norsca and Karak Kadrin clashed, with
the Dwarfs weathering the brutality of their foes with a skill that only the most
battle-hardened northlanders could match. Yet the Northman matched the skill of
their grim foes with wild bloodlust, and so many of Ungrim's slayers found the
deaths they longed for atop the walls of the Averburg.

Scyla Anfingrimm unleashes his fury.

Ungrim Ironfist had held alongside his favoured warriors thus far, though now it
seemed his doom had come. Scyla Anfingrimm, Talon of Khorne, had followed his
slaughterer's instincts to the Magnusspitze, and the truest savages of Archaon's
hird had followed in his murderous wake. Axe-wielding savages, neither fully men
nor daemons, who sought to drown out their own internal agonies with the death-
cries of their foes: Forsaken warriors who had long been cast aside from the
shifting gaze of the gods and set upon the path of death or spawndom.

Where the Dwarfs had managed to hold back the rest of the Norscan horde - there
was no way to contain Scyla's howling host. With tendril, pinion and snapping claw,
the Bloodbeasts crushed the slayers under their mindless, bestial bloodlust.

Scyla, at last, had found Ungrim on the field of battle and matched his mighty claw
against the Axe of Dargo. The Slayer King was buttressed by ancient power -- the
very Wind of Aqshy itself, which strengthened his limbs and guided his blows,
cloaked itself about him and burned away the darkness. But Scyla was amongst
the Blood God's most beloved warriors, and in the Final Days of the world, he had
grown mighty indeed.

Insensate to the pain of the magical fires Ungrim now conjured, the Chaos Spawn
bore down upon him earth-shattering blows and pulverised his armour. Once,
twice, thrice, the former Norse champion had used Ungrim as an improvised flail,
using the king to crush and shatter his very subjects. When Scyla drew the
battered Dwarf back for a fourth time, it was then that Ungrim let fly his final,
desperate swing.

The Slayer King had aimed for the Chaos Spawn's head, but it had seemed that
his axe-blow had instead found the hulk's massive arm -- the very one with which
he now grasped him. The axe bit deep, and Scyla howled in unholy rage as he
instinctively threw away the Dwarf. Blinded with pain and fury, he leapt upon the
prone king, who with desperation quickly rose to his full height and slashed his
blade across the hulking Scyla's belly, nearly drowning himself in the creature's
smouldering blood.

Scyla howled in fury a second time, but could not halt the momentum of his charge
in time before he struck the edge of Magnusspitze's parapet with a sickening
crunch, and then plunged over the edge into the smoke-wreathed sky beyond.
None could be certain, however, if this had spelt the end of the one time saviour of
the Bay of Blades, though he did not reappear in later battles.

Valkia the Bloody seeks skulls to lay at her paramour's feet.

Far across the city, the Emperor's Company was swiftly losing momentum. Only
Karl Franz himself, in truth the god Sigmar Heldenhammer reborn though it was
unknown amongst his comrades, seem untouched by weariness and many were
the prayers made that the power that strengthened the Emperor would not expend
itself until the gold-helmed Everchosen was slain.
As the fur-clad and steel-sheathed warriors swarmed all about them, the Swords of
Chaos -- Archaon's own warband and the elite core of the Berserker Onslaught --
had spurred into the fray. Their charge was unto the southlings as the ending of
worlds, as their impact trampled hundreds of brave warriors of both the Reiksguard
and Griffon Order alike into the gore-slick dirt.

Above the charge of the Norscans flew the mightiest of their legendary shield-
maidens -- the dauntless warrior-queen Valkia the Bloody, the "Bringer of Glory,"
she who carried the fallen to Khorne's halls. Though Archaon -- King of the
Northmen -- had made his claim upon his southern counterpart, there were still
many choice trophies to be laid at Khorne's feet, and the Gorequeen had set her
malefic gaze upon the Imperial standard, as well as the skull of he who bore it
-- Ludvig Schwarzehelm.

Both Valkia and the Emperor's Champion duelled amidst the battle -- peerless
warriors of their respective peoples. Though Schwarzehelm was a swordsman of
exquisite renown who bore no equal among the men of the south, Valkia had been
a queen of Norsca in mortal life, and in immortal daemonhood bore the highest
favour of Khorne himself.

Valkia's spear, Slaupnir, had torn its brutal way through Ludvig's breastplate and
pierced his heart, slaying him. But in his death-throes, the warrior had raised the
Imperial standard Valkia sought to claim and drove it through her daemonic flesh,
the Daemon Prince's very momentum driving her further and further down the
spear, until the heartwood shaft had shattered her unnatural spine.
Archaon charges into the fight.
As the two died, Archaon had at last sought out the Emperor -- his foe and great
adversary. A strange silence fell upon the field as the two locked their fierce eyes
upon each other. The sense of destiny defied was electric in the air, the sense of
fate itself sheering loose of the path set for it. The Everchosen raised his mighty
blade and rode towards his enemy, and the moment was lost.

The Everchosen did not ride at once to meet his foe in combat -- his swing had
been the signal for his Swords of Chaos to charge ahead and engage the foe. Not
one of the heavily armoured Norse riders had reached their enemy, having been
burned to cinders by the Emperor's lightning or torn from their saddles by
the griffon Deathclaw. Archaon remained motionless as he beheld the slaughter of
his closest knights and nodded to the Emperor. The barest of salutes perhaps, or
the satisfying foresight of the contest to come.

The Norsemen still continued streaming onto the Magnusplitze, while their victory
was all but assured at the Steilstrasse, there it was less a complete rout for their
foes and more a grinding stalemate, given the timely arrival of the warriors of
Zhufbarak who reinforced their red-haired cousins of Karak Kadrin.

As the battle raged on the Magnusplitze, so too it was waged with no less fury on
the Steilstrasse. Imperial soldiers fought back to back as frenzied Northmen
slaughtered their ways through their ranks.

The men of Carroburg and Ostland, Quenelles and Altdorf, all felt despair rise up

like bile as Aeslings, Baersonlings, Bjornlings and Graelings thundered and
muscled through their lines and slaughtered men without mercy.
Yet among all this bloodshed -- one battle stood ascendant above all that. That
was between the Emperor and Archaon Everchosen themselves. Compared to this
confrontation -- the earth-shaking duel between the Three-Eyed King and the devil
Sigmarite Valten was but a mere prelude. Around the combatants, the Swords of
Chaos formed a protective ring to thwart the efforts of the Emperor's Reiksguard,
or indeed any other, to intrude upon this mighty reckoning.
Bound with the full power of Azyr as he was, the Emperor was nearly Archaon's
physical equal. Deafening metallic clamour rang out as U'zuhl and Ghal
Maraz clashed together, daemonfire and holy lightning striking out with every blow.

Below, Dorghar and Deathclaw duelled with every bit the same fury as their
masters, red wounds streaking the Griffon's hide and dark blood flowing free from
the daemonsteed's thick hide.

The Emperor called out to the heavens to unleash their fury down upon Archaon,
lashing the Norse Lord with bolts of lightning. Unperturbed, the Everchosen
countered with his own dark magic, wreathing the Emperor in daemonflame that
would have surely burned him to his very soul had it not been for the protective
enchantments of the Seal of Purity.

Again and again, did blows fall, the two warlords striking out in a dance of steel
with skill so impeccable that it seemed almost a rehearsed battle. All around them,
Norsemen and Imperial alike fell into the sodden mud, their skill having failed them.
Yet still, the Northern King and Emperor fought.

Mutated Norse berserkers in battle.

At last, the hammer of Sigmar battered away Archaon's rune-shield and thundered
into the black plate of Morkar the Uniter's armour with a dull clang drowned out by
Archaon's bestial bellow of pain. This small victory proved bitter, however, for the
Emperor had left his defences dangerously weakened and the Slayer of
Kings lashed out to take advantage.

Deathclaw saw the blow before his master did, and imposed himself between the
Emperor and the keen edge of U'zuhl. Instead of striking the Emperor's neck, as
Archaon intended, the daemonblade had instead hammered into Deathclaw's skull.

Blood oozing from the blow, senses struck clean by the hammer of the impact, the
mighty griffon tumbled to earth with a muffled screech and threw his lord from the
saddle.

Archaon was on his foe the minute he had fallen to earth. The Slayer of
Kings arced down with blinding speed and tore a bloody groove through the
Emperor's powerful plate and bit deeply into the flesh. The Essence of Ghal
Maraz struck out a second time, but it was slow now with its wielder having
suffered such a mortal wound and Archaon easily dodged the strike and laughed at
a foe so nearly humbled.

The Everchosen did not charge his steed now, for the Emperor was defeated. Nor
did he call his Swords to end the cretin princeling's life. Instead, he merely goaded
Dorghar to a tread and slowly approached his beaten foe.

Archaon raised the Slayer of Kings and brought it down in a murderous arc, while

the Emperor raised his hammer of light in a desperate guard against it. The two
weapons met with a ponderous clang, but Archaon tore his weapon away and
brought down again with twice as much force.
With that strike, the Slayer of Kings thundered into the Essence of Ghal Maraz and
the hammer exploded into a thousand shards of light. The Three-Eyed King
mocked the fallen Emperor as a thief, declaring the power mantled upon him was
not his property for it was stolen from its true master -- the Changer of Ways.
Archaon tore away the power of the Wind of Azyr from the Emperor, returning it
back to the possession of Tchar the Raven God. Archaon had prevailed over his
nemesis.

Seeing the wretched Emperor as unworthy of even the effort of killing, the Three-
Eyed King elected to deny him the honour of a warrior's death, declaring that no
god favoured him nor cared if he lived or died. Averheim was now lost, smothered
under the wrath of the Northmen like all the rest of the world.

With no recourse, Balthasar Gelt conjured a spell to transport the survivors of the
Emperor's army to Athel Loren -- the last place in the world spared the fury of the
Norscans, leaving only Ungrim Ironfist and the Sons of Kazakrendum to cover their
retreat. Every last Dwarf not of Zhufbarak died a loathsome death that day.

With his victory over the Empire seemingly assured, Archaon led his victorious
warriors back to Middenheim, where they would enact the final stages for the
annihilation of the feculent world the Three-Eyed King had decreed was worthy
only of death.

The triumph of the Northmen was swiftly imperilling the delicate Weave that the
Wood Elves of Athel Loren had strived so hard to maintain. The travails grew so
deadly, that many of the forest wraiths began to succumb to the madness of
Chaos. With every assault the Norse and their allies had made, the more they
pushed the world towards its unmaking.

Such devastation could not come into being overnight, of course. Indeed, without
an explosive influx of Chaos energies similar to the terrible occurrences glimpsed
during the Fall of the Old Ones, this unmaking would doubtless have taken
centuries.
However, a horrifying tipping point was emerging -- one that, if left unchecked,
would reduce the world to formless, primordial Chaos. And already, its precursors
were being felt.

Within the bowels of the Fauschlag, the Northmen had uncovered that which they
had sought at Middenheim since times immemorial. An ancient device, left from the
age when the gods warred against the Old Ones; a device that, if properly coaxed,
would unleash a rift to the Realm of Chaos, one similar in intensity to the two
gateways that stood at either pole.

Without an equal to cancel it out, as had been the case with the Polar Rifts, this
new gateway would devour the Old World unabated, and indeed also undo the
bindings placed upon its two siblings, thus undoing the delicate equilibrium that
had been unwittingly created by the Coming of Chaos, and play out the last acts of
damnation begun those many thousands of years ago.

The Blood Hunt unleashed.

Ka'Bandha, Lord of the Bloodthirsters, had grown impatient with the Everchosen's
obstinate desire to remain in Middenheim while blood was yet to be spilt. Though
he had sent many foes to Khorne's halls and won a mighty victory at Averheim, his
refusal to hunt the last remnants of resistance to the dread will of the gods was
deemed disrespectful to Khorne in the eyes of the Bloodthirster.
Archaon, unbowed against the Greater Daemon's rage, suggested that Ka'Bandha
lead his pack to claim the Emperor's skull for Khorne, but he would deliver his flesh
to adorn the Three-Eyed King's black throne. With a new purpose, Ka'Bandha led
the Blood Hunt to run down and slaughter the last embers of resistance to Chaos'
rule.

The ancient daemonhost did not need to hound out their quarry, for the army of
the Incarnates rode out in a last desperate charge to avert the destruction Archaon
sought to unleash. Their forces were greatly enhanced by their alliance with the
Undying King Nagash, and his surviving Mortarchs. The dead of 11 provinces rose
up to aid the last army of Light against the red ravagers of the god of war.

Though the Incarnates and their dark allies fought tooth and nail against the
daemonic hordes, they could not prevail against the boundless fury of rage itself
given form. The Lord of the Hunt led his fellow daemons in smashing apart the
forces of the Incarnates, while he himself set his burning gaze upon the Emperor
himself.

In a last-ditch effort, the Incarnates cast a potent spell to transport themselves and
a select few of their forces into the Ulricsmund itself. Slowing all the Incarnates
made their way to the Temple of Ulric, where it is upon those grounds that the
forces of the world faced the Herald of the Apocalypse.

The battle was epic to behold as the armies of all the mortal races stand united
against the forces of Chaos Undivided. It was at this very moment that Sigmar
reunited with his hammer, Ghal Maraz, and faced Archaon alongside his
Incarnates.

Having dispatched the Incarnate of Beasts, the Everchosen moved to engage

Sigmar in single combat. Fully manifested upon the mortal plane as was possible
for a being of his divine power, the Heldenhammer's avatar proved Archaon's
physical equal. The battle fought between them was perhaps the fiercest fought of
all that were waged during the End Times.

Thunderously did U'zuhl and Ghal Maraz clash in blows that could have shattered
mountains and shook the very world to its foundations. Throughout the battle,
Sigmar raged at the Everchosen; lamenting that he, the son of a daughter of the
Empire, might have been the sword that would have wiped the Empire clean of
Chaos' taint and led humanity into a bright new age. Archaon's anger blazed
brighter, for in his frenzy he laid upon Sigmar with all his hatred and self-loathing,
decrying the God-King as a liar and coward.

Having at last disarmed the God-King, Archaon readied his daemonblade for the
blow that would kill a god. The intervention of Ulric, Sigmar's own deity in mortal
life, who sought to repay the Everchosen for the despoiling of Middenheim and the
slaughter of his worshippers, bought the God-King time to recover as the Three-
Eyed King finally slew the host of Ulric's godspark and thus snuffed out the last
embers of that noble deity's life.

The Beginning of the End of the Warhammer World.

Enraged further by the loss of the god who had admitted him into the company of
the divine and whom he had so loved in mortality, Sigmar unleashed the latent
power of Azyr, the Wind of Heavens, and destroyed Archaon's legendary daemon
blade. He then hammered upon the Everchosen with blow after blow until he finally
cast him into the new Chaos Gate he had opened to end the world.

But the Lord of the North would not be defeated so easily, for when the Incarnates
failed at sealing the Chaos Gate Archaon climbed his way out of the daemon gate.
Driven to fathomless insanity by the revelations he had borne witness to within the
heart of the Realm of Chaos, Archaon fell upon Sigmar with a rage so unholy that it
blackened the soul.

And as the newborn Chaos Gate fed its dark hunger by disrupting the fabric of the
world itself with the energies it unleashed, the two demigods struggled in a titanic
contest, the ending of the world itself paling in intensity to the unimaginable hatred
that stood between them.

All that was left was to see the two figures disappearing from sight, as the
darkness that was unleashed from the Chaos Gates consumed all in its path.

It was at that very moment, the moment when all the world met its final doom, that
Archaon's destiny was at last fulfilled.
The World's Ending... and a New Beginning

The Final Destruction of the Warhammer World as the Oak of Ages is consumed by the unmaking energies of Chaos.
And so the mortal world fell away into oblivion. The gnawing rift at the heart of
Mankind's domain devoured reality. Slowly it spread at first, but then with the
hunger of ravening wildfires. Invigorated, the polar rifts slipped their ancient bounds
and joined their younger sibling in its feast.

The peoples of the World beheld their doom and screamed in despair. No two
watchers beheld the same vision. Some saw skies riven with fire, some looked
upon an ice-cold maelstrom of stars, some saw colossal tentacles and fanged
maws that drooled the molten stuff of Chaos. Perhaps the Chaos Gods raised their
champions to daemonhood from the battles that raged amongst the flames. It
matters little, for the truth of those hopeless wars are lost.

The Oak of Ages was swallowed last of all. Mournful dryad-song echoed under livid
skies as Athel Loren perished. With its destruction, the Weave that bound time and
space together thinned and stretched. Twisted by unnatural energies, it dissolved
entirely into nothingness. That terrible act of uncreation might have taken the blink
of an eye, or unfolded across millennia. The Dark Gods were not fettered by the
flow of time, and let it pass unmarked.

Already tired of their victory, they turned away from the ruin they had wrought and
began the Great Game anew in other worlds and other creations. In doing so, they
paid no heed to the tiny speck of light tumbling in the infinite darkness -- the
glowing essence of what had once been a man.
Through the storm of nothingness, he fell, adrift for unknown aeons upon unseen
tides. Then came a glimmering orb, a fiery world-heart grown cold as the abyss.

Desperate, the figure seized upon the sphere with a grip that could shatter
mountains. He stared into the void, and from the darkness, the void stared back.
The figure clung tight, marshalling his fading strength. He reached forth his hand,
and a miracle took shape...

Six Treasures of Chaos

The Six Treasures of Chaos were the sacred artefacts that Archaon spent over a
century hunting down to lay his rightful claim to be declared the Everchosen of
Chaos in the eyes of the Ruinous Powers.
 Mark of Chaos: This blasphemous sigil imprinted upon the forehead shows the
bearer to be the chosen champion of all four Chaos Gods and grants them potent
arcane powers derived from their favour.
 Armour of Morkar: Extremely resilient and dark black, this armour was worn by
the first Everchosen of Chaos, the greatest warrior of his time. Only the
legendary Sigmar was able to defeat him.
 Eye of Sheerian: When mounted in the Crown of Domination, the Eye grants the
bearer potent powers of prophecy and omniscience, allowing Archaon to predict the
future itself. It was taken from the hoard of a massive Chaos Dragon known
infamously as Flamefang.
 Dorghar, Steed of the Apocalypse: A massive, daemonic horse, Dorghar was
claimed at the Gates of Chaos, stolen from the palace of the Daemon
Lord Agrammon. Larger than any warhorse in existence, this dreadful creature is in
itself a mount worthy of a demigod.
 U'zuhl, Slayer of Kings: The Slayer of Kings is a huge sword with the raging soul
of a captive Greater Daemon, U'zuhl, bound within it. Archaon claimed it from the
hands of the Father of the Dragon Ogres, giving Archaon a weapon that has drunk
the blood of kings for aeons.
 Crown of Domination: A symbol of the Everchosen's absolute authority over all
the forces of Chaos and his role as the chosen champion of all four major Chaos
Gods. It was found in the First Shrine to Chaos in the Worlds Edge Mountains.
Archaon learned of its location from the Daemon Prince Be'lakor, and fought
a Bloodthirster (Greater Daemon of Khorne) single-handedly to obtain it.