Those enemies unfortunate enough to survive their wounds are rounded up by the Witch Elves at the battle's end. There is little grace to such an assault, merely a whirling storm of venom-coated blades that slash at the foe with maddened fury.
Whilst in this god-touched state, they give no thought to their own defence, and seek only to hack foes apart in a blood-drenched orgy of slaughter. On the eve of war, Witch Elves drink blood laced with poisonous barbs, driving them into a divine frenzy. Yet ceremonies are but a part of the Witch Elves' worship - their truest observances take place upon the field of battle. Still-beating hearts are ripped from victim's chests and hurled into fires, writhing flesh is daubed with gore-red runes and altars are decorated with the entrails of dying captives. Their observances to the Lord of Murder are blood-slicked affairs.
Witch Elves are the cruellest of all their heartless race, for they live only to serve Khaine's malevolent demands for bloody, agonising sacrifice. Crazed by poisonous concoctions, their dual daggers lacerate and shred for the Bloody-handed God.
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