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I don't see a good reason for massing complete articles that already stand on their own (such as 'Chaos Gods') into one big general daemon page. I'm also not fond of the idea of non-exclusively-chaos things like Familiars redirected to a long list chaos equipment. --Acidface 10:03, 31 January 2008 (CET)

agreed. there is more than enough information on any one type of daemon to have there own article. there is some value in listing them altogether here, but we shouldn't be redirected here if looking up 'Bloodthirster'.--admiraldick 11:13, 11 November 2008 (CET)

I tried to make the page look less like a list of Daemons and removed the Daemon-specific descriptions for more general ones. Needs still lots of work since most Daemons don't have a page of their own yet. ---Digganob

Should this be more general, as there is some non-chaotic daemons as well (Avatar)? --Dige

If you are talking about the fact that in DOW the Avatar of Khaine is a type of daemon then no we shouldnt make this page more general as that is purely a game mechanic in my view. And we dont allow game mechanics on here. --Ytokes 01:48, 14 June 2011 (CEST)
Avarar is stated to be a daemon in other sources as well, like Codex: Daemonhunters and Eldar. I am not expert on Eldar, but I think it is clearly a warp-based entity, hence daemon. See also the new GK dex FAQ (although it talks about about rules, it also says that Mandrakes count as ones too). --Dige 15th June 2011
Do you have a page number(s) for those references? If so then I believe you can add them under a new section under Types of Daemon as a see also or Xenos Daemons. As long as you source properly so that I or others can check. However if the only reason that they are classified as daemons is for tabletop gaming and not background whatsoever then they should not be added.--Ytokes 03:21, 16 June 2011 (CEST)

Mark of the xenos

This RPG has a lot of information about daemons and i don't want to scour trough whole daemon category(the alien and heretics is already big enough) so i'm gonna put here direct citations, if anybody wants to work them good. once somebody goes trough them ill delete them.

Any problems tell me.--Ashendant 00:27, 20 January 2012 (CET)

Bloodthirster

Bloodthirsters are the unholy fury of the Chaos Power Khorne, Lord of Battles and Blood, incarnate. They are the Greater Daemons of the Blood God, each a manifestation of the unreasoning rage and savagery of total war. It is said that there are no more powerful masters of battle in the entire galaxy than the Greater Daemons of Khorne and that none may stand before them. They are the very essence of brutality, every blow ever struck and life ever taken distilled into a single towering form of iron and sinew. In appearance, Bloodthirsters resemble every fear ever expressed through legends of the devils and daemons that hunger for the souls of men. While most stand around ten metres tall at their hunched shoulders, the mightiest of their kind are the size of a scout Titan. Their feet are cloven and the ground burns at their passing. Their skin is the deep red of encrusted blood. Their bodies are impossibly muscled and covered in iron-tipped barbs. From their backs grow a pair of mighty wings upon which they can soar high above the battlefield and strike their enemies at will. Most hideous of all are their faces, which are moulded in a form resembling a feral, snarling beast with fangs the size of swords. Bloodthirsters carry two weapons, each the very epitome of its type and responsible perhaps for millions of deaths. The first is a mighty axe, the iconic weapon of Khorne. The blade of this weapon is at least the height of a Space Marine, and its haft several times longer. With it the Bloodthirster may strike down the mightiest fortress gate or cleave in two a superheavy battle tank. No mundane armour is proof against the Bloodthirster’s axe and no opponent able to resist its touch. But the axe does not simply destroy the body, it consumes the souls of those it slays, offering them as sacrifices to the Blood God. What torments these souls must endure in Khorne’s realm for all eternity are too terrible to bear. The second weapon carried by the Bloodthirsters of Khorne is a great whip. This coiling lash is capable of striking down those cowardly foes that seek to engage the Greater Daemon from afar, so that even the most cunning of opponents cannot escape the Bloodthirster’s wrath. Bloodthirsters are not only able to unleash the most fearsome of attacks, they are able to endure them too. Their hide is said to be made not of living flesh but of the hardest iron, cast in hellish foundries of Khorne’s infernal bastion in the Realm of Chaos. Only the mightiest of blows has even the slightest hope of causing more than a dent upon the Bloodthirster’s iron hide, though few enemies stand any chance of landing such a blow in the first place. In addition to their warp-cast hide, Bloodthirsters bear sections of armour adorned with the glowing skull rune of their master. These attest to the blessing of the Lord of Battles, who abhors above all else the cowardly use of sorcerous powers on the field of battle. The runes are proof against the most fearsome of psychic attacks, a fact that strikes utter horror into the hearts of the most accomplished of battle-psykers. But the Bloodthirsters of Khorne are not simply mindless berserker engines of war. They are the generals and ultimate champions of the Daemonic Legions of the Blood God. Countless Lesser Daemons march beneath them in unstoppable assaults against the enemies of their master. Bloodthirsters are masters of every tactic that leads to the spilling of blood. They eschew stealth and guile as the coward’s way and direct their forces towards the total defeat of their enemies with stunning brutality. Against such a combination of rage and leadership, none can stand. The only hope that servants of the Imperium have of not dying at the hands of a Bloodthirster is not to face one. Bloodthirsters are near the very apex of Khorne’s servants and as such are incredibly rare. Their only potential weakness lies not in any deficiency of arms or armour, but in the very nature of their existence. As daemons, the Bloodthirsters are made of the raw stuff of the Warp, condensed and distilled and motivated by a will that resides entirely within the boiling depths of the Immaterium. As such, the daemon relies upon the link between the material universe and its own realm remaining strong and constant. Only upon Daemon worlds such as those thought to lie at the heart of the Hadex Anomaly are such conditions known to exist. Beyond these worlds, the Bloodthirsters’ grip on existence is tenuous, and they can be banished back to the Realm of Chaos by a foe with the will or purity to do so. pg100

To date, no solid, verifiable accounts have been found that confirm the manifestation of a Bloodthirster upon any battlefield within the Jericho Reach. That is not to say that such manifestations have not taken place, for if they had there would be few surviving witnesses left to give such accounts. Yet, the Deathwatch know that while Chaos has such a grip upon the worlds at the heart of the Jericho Reach, while Lesser Daemons stalk its worlds and while the mortal hosts of Chaos sing the praises of the Ruinous Powers, it is just a matter of time. Surely, upon some blasted battle ground such as Khazant or Vanity, the air will fill with the stench of brimstone and spilled blood and the ground will tremble with the tread of burning, cloven hooves. Then, a Bloodthirster of Khorne shall stride forth, and the slaughter begin. pg101

Great Unclean One

Great Unclean Ones are the harbingers of Nurgle, god of rot and ruin—his greatest servants, bearers of his most sacred plagues and poxes. They are squat mountains of ruptured, roiling flesh, covered in open sores that weep with streams of pus. They burst through the veil with an ear-shattering howl of glee, delighted to walk the earth once more, spreading their bounty. The Greater Daemons of Nurgle are not subtle. Their appearances on the mortal plane are heralded by disease and desolation on a planetary scale. If an incursion is left unchecked, whole worlds can go dark: their populations reduced by six-sevenths, their feeble leaders filthy and raving, their very cities collapsing around them. Through it all waddles the beaming, bile-slicked plague-father, bestowing his blessings, borne along on a living tide of chortling, chattering Nurglings. Great Unclean Ones are beings of decay and entropy made manifest, and before them the works of man are but castles made of sand, perched on the edge of a storm-wracked sea. In battle, Great Unclean Ones wield enormous blades and maces of iron, crude, corroded cleavers and immense plague flails—each one dripping with pestilence. Those that survive the wave of desolation that accompanies a Great Unclean One often become its faithful slaves. Wracked by disease, bloated by corpse gasses, stripped of their loved ones and surrounded by the dead and dying, many plague thralls give themselves over to their suffering, venerating and worshipping the very ailments that brought them low. Perversely, those who embrace Nurgle’s foul contagions are made stronger by them, their ravaged bodies inured to pain, their rotting forms all but impervious to greater harm. The thriving colonies of bacteria gestating within their bloated bodies grant unholy regenerative abilities to their hosts, sealing gaping wounds in seconds and expanding everoutward, until the creatures that were once men remain little more than disease-wracked shells, foetid human cauldrons of pox and pestilence. Great Unclean Ones are always accompanied by— and infested with—thousands of gibbering, diminutive Nurglings, pint-sized daemons of mischief and malice who caper about madly, tongues lolling, their fat bodies supported by improbably spindly legs. Great Unclean Ones dote on these scabrous sprites, bouncing them on their knees and scratching behind their malformed ears. Even the rotting hulks of their bodies are colonized by Nurglings; these tiny creatures dwell in the burst carbuncles and rank wounds that cover a Great Unclean One, and particularly love to nest within its great, rent belly, burrowing deep inside the steaming intestines that hang in long, gore-slicked loops from its body. A Great Unclean One looks upon this cackling horde with munificence and paternal love, and Nurglings are quick to defend their “father” when he is threatened. Unwary foes are often dragged down by the murderous wave of shrieking, biting daemons that billows forth from the body of a Great Unclean One the instant it is attacked. Natural-born carrion creatures also number among the Greater Daemon of Nurgle’s faithful friends. Rats, vultures, worms, crows and sky-blackening clouds of flies trail in its jolly wake, hideously multiplied in both size and number. Great Unclean Ones typically take the form of gargantuan, immensely fat humanoids, hot intestines dribbling out of huge tears in their enormous bellies. Their horrific girth is supported by two impossibly small and atrophied-looking legs, and their bulbous heads are crowned by the enormous antlers of a stag. Their suppurating, sore-covered bodies are host to every disease ever catalogued by man, and many more besides, and their stench can be detected from miles away. In perverse contrast with their appearance, their manner is jovial and kind; they are the very picture of mirth and good cheer. Even surrounded by the pitiful moaning of the sick and dying, they smile with pure-hearted benevolence, and their long, pus-coated tongues dangle from toothy facesplitting grins. To look upon a Great Unclean One is to gaze upon the face of decay, to realize that all things must break down, must collapse and congeal, must rot and rust and fall to ruin, that the great works of man will one day vanish from the universe, and the stars themselves must one day die. pg102

Keeper of Secrets

Keepers of Secrets are the Greater Daemons of Slaanesh, the so-called Prince of Chaos. Like their master, these Greater Daemons are the ultimate despoilers, revelling in the corruption of their foes. Keepers of Secrets seek not only to lead astray, but to debase their victims, reducing once proud champions of Humanity to twisted vile things, barely recognisable to their erstwhile kin. To turn a pure and innocent soul to the worship of Slaanesh is the ultimate delicacy for the Keepers of Secrets, the further the fall and the deeper the corruption, the sweeter their satisfaction. In appearance, these Greater Daemons vary enormously, although all are possessed of a bizarrely alien and utterly disturbing countenance. In size they range from several times the height of a man to ten or more metres. Their limbs are lithe and often multi-jointed, enabling swift and unpredictable movement. They typically have four or more arms, one pair terminating in cruelly pointed claws and the other in razor sharp pincers or blades. Most vile of all are the daemons’ faces. Some are strangely bovine, while others are elongated and alien. A few are almost human, androgynous and terrifyingly beguiling. Only the staunchest of mortal beings to set eyes upon these beasts sees their true form. Keepers of Secrets are enshrouded in an aura of scintillating illusion, entrapping the souls of even the strongest of foes. The beguiled drops his weapon and stands dumb-founded in the midst of raging battle, his arms spread wide as his doom approaches. Those not dragged down in the cruel embrace of the Daemonettes that invariably accompany the Greater Daemons are crushed beneath its hooves, cut in two by its blade or blasted by its sorcery. The most unfortunate may meet another end entirely, and not one that sane men would dwell upon. While the greatest of the Keeper of Secrets weapons is its beguiling nature, they commonly bear mighty warp-forged blades with which to strike down those few not ensorcelled by their infernal beauty. Such blades are commonly several metres long and encrusted with fell runes that burn the eye and sear the soul. The weapons phase in and out of reality, bypassing armour and slicing through the flesh within. At their touch, the soul is drained from the body to be carried away to the dread Realm of Chaos, there to be tormented for all eternity by the cruel caresses of Slaanesh’s servants. In combat, the Keepers of Secrets display speed and guile that few can defeat, made all the harder to combat by the beguiling aura that assails their foes. They are impossibly fast, their form shifting and blurring as they dart and in and out, every touch dealing blessed torment. In addition to their speed, the Keepers of Secrets bring prodigious sorcerous powers to bear on their enemies, blasting them with the raw energy of the warp or reducing them to gibbering fools. They are capricious and cruel, preferring where possible to twist and corrupt rather than simply kill. Foes become playthings, their souls the prize in a monstrous game of corruption and defilement. Nothing is sweeter to a Keeper of Secrets than to deliver to its master the soul of one of Humanity’s greatest champions. They will stay the killing blow indefinitely if they see a chance of doing so, wearing the enemy down body and soul until ready to strike. On the field of battle, the Keepers of Secrets are rarely encountered alone. They are invariably accompanied by swarms of prancing Daemonettes, the Lesser Daemons of the Prince of Chaos. These cavort and dance across the killing fields, singing the praises of their master and dealing death to the armies of men. Worst of all, the Daemonettes often avoid killing the enemy’s greatest champions and leaders, slaying or corrupting lesser troops as a delectable taster of the glorious spectacle that is the coming of the Keeper of Secrets. The champions are taunted and teased by the Daemonettes until the battlefield is carpeted with twitching dead. And then, the Greater Daemon appears, and the main course begins. Ever since the launching of the Achilus Crusade, the servants of the Ordo Malleus have maintained a watch for the presence of the Keepers of Secrets within the Jericho Reach. Of late, an unnamed Inquisitor has made several visits to the Brass Tower at Watch Fortress Erioch, conferring with the Inquisitor of the Chamber. Several recent readings of the Emperor’s Tarot have foretold of the coming of such an adversary to the region, and the attentions of the Chamber of Vigilance are turning towards this gravest of threats. pg104

Lord of Change

Lords of Change are creatures borne from some impossible nightmare, immense birdlike daemons with shimmering skin, wicked curved beaks and multicoloured, spectrum-shattering wings. Those who gaze upon these twisted prisms of pure magic begin to feel their sanity shred and reason slip away. Faced by a being of change incarnate, bedrock beliefs crumble and twist, and the mind seeks firm purchase in vain. Treachery, deceit, capriciousness: these are the hallmarks of the Lords of Change. Tzeentch’s greatest servants weave scheme upon scheme, a dense tangle of intermingling threads, so convoluted and eon-spanning that none can grasp their true purpose. A confrontation with a Lord of Change is likely to occur when and where the creature wills it. Few have ever managed to get the drop on these servants of Tzeentch, for the Changer of Ways is the master of destiny itself, and his greatest servants possess a portion of that power. Lords of Change tend to work behind the scenes, pulling puppet strings from the shadows. So subtle are these manipulations, and so skilled, that often the playthings of a Lord of Change remain unaware that they are in the thrall of a deadly Daemon. Secret cults, heresies, revolutionaries, and even planetary governors have all fallen under the thrall of a Lord of Change at one point or another. Even Tzeentch’s bitterest foes can be manipulated into fulfilling the Great Deceiver’s ends— under his greatest daemons’ careful guidance, brother can be turned against brother, friend against friend, and the most zealous of Inquisitors can stumble from the path of righteousness. To confront a Lord of Change is to wander through a fog-shrouded mire of lies, ever unsure that one’s actions are correct, one false step away from sinking irrevocably. On the rare instances that a Lord of Change is bested, its schemes sundered and its plans laid to ruin, it will fight like a cornered animal, drawing upon its incredible sorcerous powers to fell its foes directly where deceit and deception have failed. Lords of Change are the greatest Sorcerers in the galaxy, and their mastery of magic is without peer. The mightiest psychic powers and spells employed by feeble human psykers and Sorcerers are the idle cantrips of a Lord of Change, for a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch is a creature of undiluted warp energy and the mortal world quakes at its touch. With the merest flick of an elegantly tapered claw, bodies mutate and writhe, buildings twist and melt, and beings of madness and horror spring forth, cackling, from running rivers of flesh. Nothing that is done cannot be undone; nothing that is made cannot be unmade. To prevail against a Lord of Change, one’s convictions must be firmer than the foundations of the earth. Lords of Change are deceptively delicate-looking. Their long, spindly bodies are topped by a savage, cruel bird’s head. Great feathered wings extend from their shoulder blades, glittering and glinting with a thousand impossible colours. Their bones are hollow, and despite their enormous size, they barely seem capable of supporting their own weight, often leaning upon immense staffs, etched with innumerable eldritch signs and sigils. Their appearance, however, is yet another ruse: Lords of Change are fearsome fighters, serpent-quick with skin like iron. They are also lore-masters, and possess a thorough knowledge of the great feints and fighting techniques of the galaxy. To fence with a Lord of Change is to invite one’s own ruin; many overzealous warriors have been felled by their vicious claws, cruel curved beaks and terrible, reaping staves, disemboweled before they could even lift their blades. Though a Lord of Change boasts many human slaves among his infernal retinue, it can also call upon a dreadful menagerie of Lesser Daemons when its back is up against the wall. The amorphous, spindle-limbed Pink and Blue horrors writhe with the boundless, ever-shifting energy of unbridled Chaos, warping the world around them as they gibber and shriek. The tubular Flamers of Tzeentch resemble hideous living columns, studded with still-melting mouths and faces and festooned with long, spindly arms. The gouts of magical, multi-coloured fire they spew from their mouth-like hands burn, freeze, blister, mutate and vaporize their enemies. High above, drifting on the currents of the aethyr, sail the manta-like Screamers of Tzeentch, twisted rays that trail slashing tendrils below their long, flat, strangely sinuous bodies. These tentacles are razor sharp, capable of flaying the flesh from even the most heavily-armoured foe. pg106

Bloodletter

The Lesser Daemons of Khorne are known as Bloodletters, and it is they who form the core of Khorne’s vast battle forces. Bloodletters are amongst the deadliest warriors in the galaxy, possessing immense strength in their sinewy limbs and savage in the ferocity of their brutal charge into battle. Their skin is the colour of blood, and the coppery scent of gore surrounds them like a shroud. Bloodletters are uncommonly disciplined daemons, able to form complex formations on the battlefield and manoeuvre for the best advantage. Such formations do not last once the Bloodletters engage the foe, however, as the daemons are too focused on competing for Khorne’s glory in the brutal frenzy of combat. Bloodletters are armed with great two-handed weapons known as hellblades. Legends claim that the souls of angry daemons form the core of the hellblades, and that each razored edge is sharpened by pure hatred. No mortal-forged armour can withstand the assault of a hellblade, and the carnage wrought by these wicked weapons has broken the wills of uncounted mortal foes over the millennia. pg109

Daemonette

Slaanesh has many servants, but the most numerous of them are the Daemonettes. Created to fulfil the Prince of Pleasure’s every whim, Daemonettes are his courtiers and courtesans, his warriors and messengers. Slaanesh is fickle and capricious, oft likely to send out legions of Daemonettes to destroy any source of frustration. In appearance, a Daemonette is both alluring and repulsive, with slender, lithe bodies and an androgynous glamour that is heightened by the captivating musk that pervades the air around them. A Daemonette’s skin is luminously pale and smooth, and the daemon’s hands are replaced by long, dextrous claws covered in iron-hard chitin. These claws can bestow a gentle caress or a fatal slash with equal skill. Daemonettes move swiftly upon languid, long legs and bird-like feet, able to dart across the battlefield with uncanny grace. A Daemonette’s bewitching opal eyes can capture the attention of any mortal who gazes upon them, and the Daemonette’s face is a genderless mask of cruel beauty. Regardless of their appearance, Daemonettes possess a powerful gift from their master, an aura that always makes them appear as an object of ultimate beauty and desire in the eyes of their enemies, no matter what race, gender, or morality such a foe may possess. Daemonettes are often found seducing a chosen victim with promises of glory and self-fulfilment. They are instrumental to Slaanesh’s more delicate machinations, and Daemonettes are often sent to undermine the will of Slaanesh’s enemies or tempt them from their chosen path in order to remove such opposition. Daemonettes whisper into the dreams and nightmares of a victim, taunting and teasing him with visions of ambition and the darkest desires. Many such victims become lured into self-obsession, paranoia, and insanity, irrevocably placed upon an indulgent road towards their own destruction. pg110

Pink Horror

Possibly the most bizarre of all daemons, Pink Horrors are the Lesser Daemons that serve Tzeentch. These daemons possess no head, only a squat pink-hued body with long, gangly arms and legs. Leering faces are normally found upon the centre of their chest, but can disappear and reappear anywhere on their body seemingly at random. Pink Horrors are often found gathered in cavorting, gleeful mobs, dancing about the field of battle whilst humming a cacophonous, random tune. Cackling with mad abandon, these Horrors attack by launching a barrage of arcane bolts composed of ever-changing colours that can mutate almost any foe into unrecognisable blobs of gelatinous flesh. These daemons are relatively weak in hand-to-hand combat compared to other Lesser Daemons, having only their claws and fangs to rely upon. However, Pink Horrors are pernicious foes and are particularly difficult to destroy due to the blessings of their creator, Tzeentch, being mostly immune to the effects of many enemy weapons. When they are finally slain, the daemon’s most unique form of defence becomes evident; the Pink Horror splits into two halves, which reshape themselves into smaller copies of the original. These two new daemons are known as Blue Horrors (thanks to the vivid colour of their hides), and are competent foes in their own right. In contrast to the Pink Horror, Blue Horrors are morose, whining, and petty. pg111

Plaguebearer

The Lesser Daemons of Nurgle are shambling, pustulent creatures known as Plaguebearers. These daemons 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. Plaguebearers carry rusted, heavy blades known as plagueswords. These weapons are infused with foul infections and toxins that can make the merest scratch fatal. These daemons are solemn, cruelly efficient warriors in battle, hideously effective at any war of attrition. 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. pg112

Discussion

I dont mind adding the info, but will have to wait until I've done with the equipment lists and Sororitas articles. Thelemur 00:46, 20 January 2012 (CET)
It's just that i hate the standard daemons, it's a buttload of info, and there are lot more interesting parts of the book(to me).--Ashendant 00:51, 20 January 2012 (CET)
Cool, Im happy to do it - I like my warp-spawned beasties. Thelemur 01:13, 20 January 2012 (CET)
This might sound annoying but when are you going to do these?(they're kinda of a big thing in my list...)--Ashendant 01:21, 8 February 2012 (CET)
I'm working on creating 3 new portals and re-organising alot of the pages connected to them atm, I wont be working on this page until I've finshed all of that stuff I'm afraid. Thelemur 01:52, 8 February 2012 (CET)
Kay, tell anyone that is interested.--Ashendant 01:53, 8 February 2012 (CET)