Skarr Bloodwrath claimed lordship of the Skullreapers in the only court Khorne recognises, cutting down every rival who contested his right until none remained to argue. In battle he is a red cyclone: the Bloodstorm Blades — paired swords whirled on lengths of shrieking brass chain — orbit him in arcs that reap everything within their reach, and Skarr wades through the harvest laughing, sworn to a tally of skulls that has long since passed counting.
Khorne's blessing upon Skarr is generosity of the cruellest kind: he is not permitted to stay dead. Destroy his body and it collapses into boiling gore, his essence draining back into the Blood God's domain — only to clot together again wherever in the Mortal Realms the killing burns hottest, blades already spinning. Heroes across the realms have spent their finest moment striking Skarr Bloodwrath down, and it has never once mattered. Somewhere, always, the rage boils high enough to give the Wrath Eternal a new body, and battle is joined again before the old one has finished steaming.