"The creatures I have seen are glorious and vile in their own measure. Their form is a perfect vision of the Gods' dark will. None can match the majesty of these vicious beasts."
- — Vexal Tav, Wyrd
The Lesser Daemons of Chaos are the most numerous entities of the Warp. The legions and servants of the Dark Gods are countless and diverse. These are the warriors, the guard beasts, the messengers and the tallymen of Chaos – the teeming masses of daemonkind that exist solely to serve their creator's dreams and whims. The Lesser Daemons and Daemonic Beasts are the true armies of Chaos, who wage a never-ending war with the hordes of the other Gods of the universe for power and dominance. Lesser Daemons are slaves to the will of their master, little more than extensions of the mind and will of the Chaos God they serve, created and discarded without effort or thought. Though nothing more than lowly minions in the Realm of Chaos, such daemons are nevertheless potent entities in the material universe. Their otherworldly nature grants them speed, strength and resilience beyond that of men. For those with the knowledge and will, it is possible to tear through the barriers between worlds and allow the daemons to spill forth. Once they are through, the daemon packs fall upon the foe with relentless ferocity, for their time in the mortal world is limited. They crave every moment and experience to be had in the mortal realm before their power fades and they are banished back to the Realm of Chaos within the seething, swirling eddies of the Warp.
Lesser Daemons of Khorne
Bloodletters, known variously as the Chosen of Khorne, Slaughter-kin, and the Crimson Death, are the lesser servants of the Blood God, forming the core of his vast Daemonic Legions. Peerless and deadly warriors, they are amongst the most skilled warriors in the galaxy. Armed with dreaded Hellblades, great two-handed weapons said to be as sharp as Khorne's own hatred, Bloodletters can hew apart the stoutest adversary in a shower of steaming gore. The body of a Bloodletter is a deep gore-red and their humanoid bodies are topped with bestial snarling faces, burning pupil-less eyes, and horned elongated craniums that seem reminiscent of great war-helms. Their long, sinewy limbs possess an infamous strength, as renowned as the ferocity of their charges and the grim battle lust with which they tear apart anyone who opposes them. Everywhere they go, they are surrounded by the stench of blood. Unlike other Daemons, Bloodletters march to war in regimented formations, for their creator is the Lord of Battle. Lines of the Daemons manoeuvre in ranks with supernatural precision, advancing in disciplined maniples. However, these echelons quickly break up after contact with the enemy, as each Bloodletter competes to slay as many of the foe as possible.
Flesh Hounds, known variously as The Relentless Hunters, Khorne's Endless Fury, and Beasts of Blood, are rapacious wolf-like daemons, with heavy-jawed heads that are both reptilian and savagely canine. The enemies of Khorne are many, and not all have the honour and courage to stand in battle against his minions. Some flee before the daemonic onslaught, an affront to the Blood God for it means that blood and skulls he has claimed could be denied him. From his place on the Throne of Skulls, he tracks those enemies who dare to run. With a thunderous bellow of rage, he unshackles his scale-covered Flesh Hounds, inescapable hunting beasts twice the size of any mortal canine. Their razor-sharp teeth can shred armour and flesh alike and their claws are dark and bloody. The scaled hide of a Flesh Hound is tough and ruddy, with rows of iron plates driven into the flesh along their backs by iron rivets in the shape of Khorne's skull rune. Flesh Hounds are lithe yet powerful, able to dart aside from a swordsman's strike and pull a knight from the saddle as part of the same fluid motion. Khorne also uses his Flesh Hounds in more direct conflicts. They are often sent ahead of the main lines of a daemonic assault, ploughing into the enemy's main lines in a tide of claws and fangs. Each Flesh Hound wears an ornate brass circlet about its scaled neck. These Collars of Khorne are forged in the heat of Khorne's rage at the very foot of the Blood God's brazen throne. The psychic abilities of their foes have little effect, as the Collars that Khorne blesses each beast with burn away such cowardly attacks. The havoc they create allows the trailing forces of Bloodletters to seize upon disorder and confusion and smash apart formations with greater ease. The sight of this terrifying combination of Daemon hounds and merciless horned fiends approaching an army is sometimes enough to cause entire regiments to flee without a fight. At times such as these, the Flesh Hounds are sent into an uncontrollable lust for destruction, for they know they need not wait for the command of their master. They know what his desire will be -- the blood and skulls of the fleeing cowards belong to the Master of the Hunt, and the Hounds are eager to please their god.
Juggernauts, known variously as Brass Behemoths, Khorne's Unstoppable Rage, and Bloodpounders, are massive quadripedal daemonic creatures made of living metal whose blood is liquid fire. Like a miniature Daemon Engine, each Juggernaut, or Jugger as they are also known, is a blend of Daemon and hell-forged machine, vaguely resembling a hulking, armoured bull. According to legend, each beast begins its existence in the furnaces at the base of Khorne's Rage. Brass-armoured plates, metal cogs, and other fabricated components are fused with Daemon flesh, sinew, and bone that has been dredged from the bottoms of blood lakes and rivers. At this point, the construct is inanimate, a form with no will or desire. It is then that the furnace-Daemons begin the binding rites to infuse the rune-encrusted assemblage with a daemonic essence and the last plates of armour are hammered out on the screaming Daemon Forges, the torment of those bound within seeping into the animated metal. As the final pieces are bolted into place on the Jugger's head, eyes filled with endless rage light with hellish fires and the newly born Juggernaut roars with Khorne's fury. When a Juggernaut is set loose upon the enemies of Khorne, it charges headlong into them, its feet rising and falling with a force that rivals that of a Warhound Titan's legs. It often seeks the largest, most imposing foe it can find, bringing the target down with a display of brute force that the beast hopes will please its master. Bloodletters are often mounted atop Juggernauts, the resulting daemonic cavalry adding a new weapon to Khorne's arsenal. These troops are called Bloodcrushers, a name that suits them perfectly. They rush headlong into the thickest part of a battle, scattering opposition as pounding hooves pulverise those not quick enough to avoid the charge. Stunned enemies are relieved of the burden of their heads as the rider's black hellblade comes crashing down through their necks. The resultant spray of arterial blood rains down into the crushed forms that lie beneath the Jugger's feet, creating rings of carnage that leave behind a battlefield dotted with crimson circles of suffering. It is not just Bloodletters that find themselves riding a Juggernaut into battle. In very rare cases, a mortal Champion of Chaos that has proven himself to the Blood God in innumerable conflicts may receive a Juggernaut as a gift from his patron god. Such a reward carries a heavy burden for the champion, for he knows that he must push himself to even greater acts of bloodshed as thanks to his master. Where once the champion could have temporarily pleased Khorne with the mere killing of a small regiment of Imperial Guardsmen, he must now wipe out a battalion, saturate the field of honour with their blood, and claim each of their skulls for the glory of his god. From his newly elevated position atop the brass behemoth, the champion gladly accepts his new burden, eager to continually prove his worthiness of such a magnificent killing machine.
Lesser Daemons of Slaanesh
Daemonettes (known as Bringers of Joyous Degradation, Harbingers of Endless Delight, and Seekers of Decadence) are the most numerous of Slaanesh's servants. They serves as courtiers and courtesans in the Palace of Pleasure, created to fulfill Slaanesh's every passing whim. They fill Slaanesh's throne room, lounging upon silken cushions, gossiping endlessly as they scheme to earn greater favour from their wilful master. The Daemonette's are also Slaanesh's warriors and messengers beyond his realm. Slaanesh is given to extreme changes of mood and when frustrated, he lashes out with his legions, sending his Daemonettes to tear down everything he finds repugnant, unsubtle and crude, and replace them with artistic views of destruction. Daemonettes are hermaphroditic daemonic creatures, their physical appearance confounding -- at once impossibly twisted and shamefully intriguing -- they are both repulsive and nearly impossible for mortals to turn away from. Their lithe bodies and entreating voices lure wayward souls to lower defences and open up to ravenous, violent consumption from the jaws and jagged claws of the Ladies of Slaanesh. This base allure is not, however, the only temptation Daemonettes have at their disposal. As children of Slaanesh's degenerate dreams, Daemonettes bring all he has to offer to the fore. Not all mortals yield to the temptations of the pleasures of the flesh; some have deeper desires that are only discovered through more deliberate probing of their wills. All Daemonettes are inherent experts in peeling away the defensive walls that shield the desires of men from discovery. If a mortal seeks adoration, these Daemons know the words of seductive guile to speak into his ears to cause him to lower his guard. If that man wants nothing more than to be recognised above his peers, the child of malice knows how to sweetly praise him for his achievements. There is no buried dream, no subdued ambition that a Daemonette cannot uncover and exploit. When it does, the focus of its attention is surely doomed to feel the tender caress of honeyed lips and razored claws.
Fiends of Slaanesh
Fiends of Slaanesh (known variously as Rams of Slaanesh, Harbingers of Deadly Fragrance and the Embodiments of Excessive Delight) are even more unsettling in appearance than Daemonettes, possessing legs that are a vague blend of equine and avian origin, head both bovine and feline, and trunk both insectoid and disturbingly humanoid, a Fiend is an amalgamation of forms that artfully blends together, shocking and inviting at once. Whether they approach as a skittering horde or as a lone graceful entity, the air ahead of them shifts, permeated by a soporific musk that penetrates deeply in to the bodies and minds of those soon to behold the creatures. Self-preservation is ignored as the Fiend sidles toward waiting playthings. Thoughts of flight in the face of imminent death are put gently aside as brain-addled beings wander into the path of rapturous slaughter. Unlike higher Daemons of the Silken Lord who also offer whispers of delicious pain and other delights, it relies only on musk, claw, and confusion to dispatch its enemies. Unfortunately for its targets, it needs little else. The pliancy of the mind and the softness of the flesh are ample weakness for a Fiend to exploit to terminal effect.
Steeds of Slaanesh
Steeds of Slaanesh (known variously as Swift Carriers of Blissful Death, Whips of Slaanesh and Degraded Ones) are creatures that share some of the traits of Fiends and often used as mounts for Daemonettes. They are both beasts of burden in the armies of the Architect of Ecstatic Torment and additional tools he can use to bring ruination upon his foes. The creatures resemble elongated tubes of flesh, punctuated by multiple instances of disturbing curvaceousness, and propelled swiftly forward on two bird-like limbs. Impossibly long tongues drip sweet temptations all along the path of their approach, their soft forms mesmerising all in their path. Once beast and victim meet, the tongue wraps like a whip around the neck, bringing a painful, wonderful death. The majority of Steeds are paired up with Daemonettes to form the ranks of the Seekers. This deadly combination of beauty, claw, and passion rides at the vanguard of many Slaanesh legions, sweeping away opposing scouts and other light resistance. Some who stand in the path of Seekers are spared destruction and are allowed to join the armies of the Dark Prince, if they show the proper appreciation and desire. The remaining steeds fall largely into two groups -- those that perform tasks such as herding captives through the courtyards of the Palace of Pleasure for the enjoyment of the Lord of Sadistic Joy, and those that have proven themselves worthy enough to be bound to the Chariots of Slaanesh. The rare Steeds that make up the latter group are special to the Decadent One indeed. Every once in a great while, a Daemonette commits an act of depravity so special that it is noticed by her master. Sometimes such an act is rewarded by elevating the Daemonette within the ranks of Slaanesh's legions, perhaps granting her titles such as Alluress. From the ranks of those thus elevated, a select few are given the right to bring pain to the galaxy from a perch atop a chariot drawn by the very finest Steeds. These razored chariots bring the delights of Slaanesh across the galaxy in swift, slicing death.
Lesser Daemons of Nurgle
Plaguebearers (known variously as Rotbearers, Maggotkin, Tainted Ones and Nurgle's Tallymen), are the footsoldiers of Nurgle's daemonic legions. These loathsome creatures are crafted from the blighted souls of mortals who have been slain by the virulent plague known as Nurgle's Rot. These Lesser Daemons of the Lord of Decay are shambling, pustulent creatures. Plaguebearers have gangling, bony limbs, their bodies swollen with decay, so much so that glistening innards are exposed through rents in their skin. They possess a single, cyclopean eye and a single horn rising above their haggard, drawn faces, their bodies covered in filth and parasites. Despite the Plaguebearer's unusual appearance, they are supernaturally resilient to harm, the gifts of their master having inured them to all pain. Plaguebearers are constantly surrounded by clouds of droning flies and chant monotonous hymns, their gait a staggering lope. Their sonorous voices attempt to keep count of the number of noxious plagues unleashed by Nurgle; an impossible task, for the Grandfather of Plagues constantly invents new strains of viruses. They also serve as the "Tallymen of Nurgle," eternally bound to record all of their Dark God’s pestilential creations. Many believe that Plaguebearers are in fact created by such diseases, incubating within plague victims and feeding upon their dying energies, only to later fully emerge from their heaped bodies. Though they have left their mortal selves behind, perhaps a piece of their former existence lingers within them, for these Tallymen invariably seek to fill their days with seemingly mundane tasks, most of which involve seeking to impose some kind of order in the chaos of their new home. Many tend to his Garden, help usher other Plaguebearers into existence like midwives, or keep catalogues of the diseases Nurgle has created. Some even attempt the impossible task of keeping a tally of the ever-changing number of Nurglings that populate the Garden of Nurgle. It's all rather odd behaviour for a Daemon, when compared to the savage acts of Bloodletters or the predations of Daemonettes, but it pleases Nurgle to see his children doing as they wish, and a father's love for his children is best left simply admired, if not understood.
Nurglings (known variously as Gleeful Castoffs, Pus Spores, Mites of Nurgle, Tiny Plauges or by their daemonic name Khan'gurani'i) are tiny, mischievous daemons. Though they are some of the least of Nurgle's minions, Nurglings are surely some of the most numerous, and among the most favoured. Even their appearance is pleasing to the Lord of All, for each Nurgling is like a minute copy of the dread master himself. This is perhaps not surprising, given that Nurglings are formed within the innards of Great Unclean Ones, who themselves physically reflect Nurgle's repulsive magnificence. Nurglings serve the Filth-father in which they were formed, often pretending that their progenitor is Nurgle himself. They play within the folds of his flesh, fetch morsels for him to consume, pick at his sores or give him new ones, and otherwise seek his approval, giggling all the while. Sometimes they are gifted to Heralds or other powerful champions to act as a living litter for him, or to hold him aloft atop a palanquin. In these cases, the Nurglings will treat their new master much as they had treated the Great Unclean One from which they came -- whether the new lord would prefer it or not. Daemons of Nurgle emulate the Lord of Decay and follow his path in many different ways. When they are not vying for the attention of their parent-Daemon, Nurglings most often try to do things that reflect the mirthful nature of Nurgle himself. This frequently leads to them interfering with the work of the Plaguebearers, who find Nurglings to be something of a nuisance—though they don't normally give voice to their irritation, at least not when a Great Unclean One is within earshot. Just when a Plaguebearer is nearly finished counting the number of drips of pus required to fill a particular pool, for example, a swarm of Nurglings may come running through it, playfully splashing in the rancid goo and scattering it all around. It is their nature to cause mischief, just as it is the Plaguebearer's nature to keep tallies. In the Realm of Chaos, even in the relatively ordered domain of Nurgle, it is no surprise that harmony eludes the grasp of most Daemons.
Beasts of Nurgle
Beasts of Nurgle (known variously as Nurgle's Lapdogs, Slime Hounds and Bombastic Contagions) are the essence of mindless decay and horrid rot given flesh, Beasts of Nurgle exemplify the Plaguelord's endless enthusiasm and excitement for forces of life and death. Thus, a Beast delights in discovering new things and making (to its very simple mind) new friends. When brought into real space they act almost akin to a curious and inquisitive pet, investigating anything and everything in sight, and spreading illness and rot wherever they go. Immense slug-like monstrosities, Beasts of Nurgle crawl across the ground on their bellies, weakly propelled by clawed flippers, leaving a layer of stinking slime in their wake. While slow, the Beast is implacable in its advance, undeterred by all but the most fearsome of weapons, as relentless as the decay it embodies. Each is a nightmarish conglomeration of parts, with a lengthy neck holding a wide-eyed face of almost blissful idiocy. The gaping tooth-filled mouth houses a lolling tongue dripping with putrid saliva. Clusters of writhing tubes sprout from the Beast's neck and back, each one spewing forth swarms of buzzing flies, clouds of vomit-inducing gases, flesh-eating fluids capable of finding gaps in even the most secure of armour, or other foul gifts. Unlike most daemons, a Beast kills not with rending claws and ripping teeth, but with a strange form of kindness. On the battlefield they often seek out and find groups of soldiers to play with them as a puppy would. Victims are caressed, petted, and stroked with the daemon's multiple tentacles, while the long tongue delivers slobbery and slimy licks. In very short order, the victim is sickened, infected, dissolved, and then crushed, ground under the Beast's vast bulk. The Beast, for its part, feels a touch of sadness at the inability of its now-dead friend to join in on the merriment, but quickly forgets about him as something (or someone) new attracts its attention.
Plague Drones (known variously as The Rotting Riders, Harvesters of Sorrows, and Pus-Crows) are high-ranking Plaguebearers known amongst the Daemon legions of Nurgle. This title conveys commendable humility, for they are the overseer's of the Lord of Decay's realm, riding into realspace mounted upon Rot Flies -- colossal daemonic insects whose appearance is so repugnant it scars the mortal mind. These fell creatures are very rare in the domain of the Pus God -- a being without joy, mirthless and bitter. Left to its own devices, the Rot Fly's anger would drive it mad, but Nurgle is a loving and merciful god and cannot bear to see one of his children suffer so. To ease the Rot Fly's pain, The Plaguefather pairs it with a Plaguebearer who has earned a place of pride in the daemonic legions of the God of Filth. The relationship between a Rot Fly and its rider benefits both the former Beast and the favoured Plaguebearer. The rider gains the ability to cover ground more quickly, allowing it to count Nurgle's many putrid blessings more thoroughly than ever before. The mount gains an eternal companion, allowing the pain of its previous rejection to fester a little less, and its victim's wounds to fester a little more.
Lesser Daemons of Tzeentch
Horrors (known variously as Whirling Destroyers, Coruscating Spellbinders, and Squealers) are the most prolific Lesser Daemons of Tzeentch, an ever-shifting mass of flesh, limbs, and flame-spewing orifices. Generally, Horrors lack heads, and what passes for their face -- a leering, grimacing visage with razor sharp teeth—often emerges from their chest or torso. Like many of Tzeentch's creations, their arms and legs tend to be thin and wiry, and these appendages end in taloned hands or clawed feet. Before they join battle, the Horrors' bodies tend to be pink or violet in hue; as such, many call these lesser daemons "Pink Horrors." Warpfire flares around their forms, and the daemons can manipulate the flames to use in hand-to-hand combat or as close-range missile weapons. Though most mortals initially find the appearance of Horrors disturbing, individual Horrors are not the most fearsome of foes. Their fighting skills are rudimentary at best, and they are no stronger than the average human. Further, when Horrors march to war, they rarely seem to adopt a martial tone. Many observers have reported that they dance, joke amongst themselves, and even sing in joyous but disturbing tones. However, when the Horrors engage the enemy, their demeanour changes. Their chanting rises to a frenzied, screaming pitch as they revel in the bloodshed of battle. Like many daemons, Horrors can withstand terrible injuries that would destroy most mortals. Lost limbs regenerate instantly, and their enemies have difficulty targeting vital or vulnerable areas on the Horrors' bodies, which are constantly changing shape. When an enemy does manage to land what would be a fatal blow to the body of a Pink Horror, remarkably, it splits into two creatures, and its colour changes from pink to blue. Though "Blue Horrors" are half the size of their pink counterparts, they are no less deadly. In addition, Blue Horrors undergo a radical shift in behaviour. Where Pink Horrors can seem childlike, playful, and even jovial—the court jesters of Tzeentch's daemonic host—Blue Horrors are mewling, cruel, petulant, and malevolent. When Horrors band together for war, unusual changes occur. The bodies of a few of the Horrors may shift to form battle standards bearing Tzeentchian icons that can function to focus the power of the warp.
Flamers (known variously as Burning Horrors, Flame Spouters, Flaming Whirlwinds, Bearers of the True Fire of Change, Pyrodaemons and Candelabra Mutatoni) are slightly more powerful Lesser Daemons of Tzeentch, with numerous gaping maws that produce the searing flames which give these daemons their unsubtle name. Of all of Tzeentch's bizarre daemonic creations, Flamers are perhaps the most unusual. These lesser daemons have a long, conical, almost fungoid trunk upon which the creatures, which have no legs or feet, balance. Like Horrors, the creatures have no heads, and one or more malevolent, wide-mouthed faces peer out from the daemons' torsos. The creatures have two long arms, thinner at the shoulder and elbow than they are at the wrists. Instead of a hand, however, each of the creatures' arms ends in a wide stump in the centre of which is a large mouth-like orifice. The "gums" of these orifices support rows of razor-sharp, shark-like teeth. A long, thin serpentine tongue inevitably lolls out of the mouth. These orifices constantly fume with odd exhalants, from acrid smoke, sulphurous gases, and the gouts of destructive warpfire that give these creatures their name. Like Horrors, Flamers initially appear clumsy and comical. Lacking legs or a more traditional means of locomotion, they move forward in an awkward fashion, combining ungainly hops with a wriggling, bouncing motion. However, as the Pyrodaemons close with the enemy, their leaps become more energetic and seem to defy gravity. Some observers have reported that the daemons' conical trunks emit gases from the base that propel the creatures forward like a jetpack of sorts. As the Flamers approach the enemy, they unleash a devastating short-ranged attack from the orifices in their arms. Most often, this attack takes the form of blasts of warpfire and alchemical heat which can burn almost anything. Reports claim that these flames can sometimes take the form of those they have immolated and perform a kind of danse macabre to mock the recently slain. While this display may produce a psychological effect on the enemies of Tzeentch, it is possible this result is not intentional, for such is the sense of humour of daemonkind. Like Horrors, Flamers make poor individual close combatants. That said, dispatching the Flamers is never an easy task, as it is difficult to identify and target the vital areas of a writhing, fungoid creature without a head.
Screamers (known variously as Soaring Predators, Sky-Sharks, Swoopers and Shrieking Skyrays) are flying daemons who closely resemble the mythical rays and skates that once inhabited the oceans of ancient Terra. How these daemons remain aloft is something of a mystery, and they can navigate planetary atmospheres, void space, and the Immaterium with equal ease and speed. Some have theorised that they fly upon or swim through warp energy rather than upon actual air or water. As they fly, Screamers leave behind contrails of multi-coloured sparks, and they emit the piercing, high-frequency whine that gives these creatures their name. The few who have fought these creatures and survived explain that the scream of the Sky-Sharks has a profoundly disconcerting psychological effect. Screamers are predatory creatures. While the creatures cannot be said to be intelligent, they do possess an animal cunning and highly attuned instincts. Screamers hunt the Immaterium in hungry packs that swoop in upon their prey at high speeds and then stun or kill their victims with short-ranged electrical attacks, the bursts of lightning emerging from their horns or tails. Their "natural" prey includes solitary Chaos Furies and other arcane creatures that travel or inhabit the Great Ocean. However, the psychic energy that all mortals generate, particularly mortals in crisis situations or before battle, also attracts the Screamers’ hunting drive. Often, captains of ships traversing the warp have reported swarms of Screamers following in their wake. Sometimes, these swarms can grow to number in the hundreds or even the thousands. Should a ship lose its shields or experience other mechanical difficulties, the Screamers will attack in an instant, their powerful jaws capable of tearing through even the densest of armour plating.
Discs of Tzeentch
Discs of Tzeentch are disc-like melds of sorcery, metal, and a Screamer daemon. Tzeentch often awards one of his champions or heralds with a Screamer to use as a mount to carry him into battle. However, the Changer of Ways must first remake the daemon into a steed. Tzeentch reshapes the Screamer into a Disc and binds it with bands and chains of sorcerous gold and silver. The Great Shaper sometimes chooses to cover the Discs with eyes, to equip it with magical blades of living metal, or to add tentacles, feathers, scales, or bony plates. Through this reshaping process, the wild hunter becomes bound to its rider's will. The champion or herald so mounted gains the Screamer's speed and ability to fly, and can take advantage of his Disc's psychically attuned senses, its lightning attacks, and the psychological edge of its unnerving scream.
Lesser Daemons of Chaos Undivided
Fury of Chaos
Unlike many of the daemons studied by the Ordo Malleus, a Fury of Chaos (known collectively as "Furies") do not belong to the hosts of the four unholy powers that dominate the warp. Reputedly formed from the souls of mortals who tried to draw on the power of Chaos without swearing allegiance to one of the Ruinous Powers, these unclaimed daemons are doomed to endlessly wander the Immaterium in a state of endless, meaningless existence. Furies are barred from entering any of the Realms and must contend with the tumultuous storms of the Immaterium on their own. Weaker than most other daemons, which often enslave them for their own uses, they are nearly-mindless manifestations of Chaos in its purest form. As Furies constantly seek a respite for their eternal torment, they are especially watchful for weakness in the walls between the worlds. Thus, Furies are often one of the first daemons to appear near an open warp gate or when Gellar Fields begin to flicker and fail. When they appear in real space, Furies are quick to find mortals to vent their rage upon. Gathering in large packs, they slaughter all they can find in a vain attempt to appease their inner hunger for a sense of purpose amid the roiling and uncaring waves of the warp. Somewhat larger than a man, with a hunched posture, Furies are hideous winged creatures. They have bestial, long-jawed faces and mouths full of jutting teeth and fangs. A bristly mane of black hair runs from their short horns to the base of the spine, while two broad batwings sprout from the shoulders. Their colouration varies with the flow of the warp or the daemonic powers currently ascendant, but black and red tones seem most common. When on the hunt, Furies keep to the air, looking to ambush their target by attacking from above. Cowardly by nature, due to their status at the bottom of the daemonic hierarchy, Furies prefer those who have ventured out alone, are wounded or injured, or otherwise look to be unable to fully defend themselves. Dropping down on outspread wings, uttering bone-chilling howls, the Furies attack in swarms, seeking to rend their target limb from limb.
- Black Crusade: Core Rulebook (RPG), pp. 351-358
- Black Crusade: Tome of Blood (RPG), pp. 14-15
- Black Crusade: Tome of Excess (RPG), pg. 15
- Black Crusade: Tome of Decay (RPG), pp. 14-15
- Black Crusade: Tome of Fate (RPG), pp. 18-19
- Codex: Chaos Daemons (6th Edition), pp. 26-50
- Codex: Chaos Daemons (4th Edition), pp. 32-44
- Dark Heresy: Daemon Hunter (RPG), pp. 90-101
- Deathwatch: Mark of the Xenos (RPG), pp. 109-112
- Liber Chaotica (Anthology) by Richter Kless
- Realm of Chaos: Slaves to Darkness (2nd Edition)
- Realm of Chaos: Lost and the Damned (2nd Edition)
- Rogue Trader: The Koronus Bestiary (RPG), pp. 118-121
- White Dwarf 274 (UK) - Index Malleus