Warhammer: History of Pink Horror

"What are we? Your scholars claim we exist only to tempt you, yet in a very real way we are you. We are your own desires, your own fears, your own ambitions and rages, given form (if not flesh). How can you fight us? Only by fighting your own Humanity, and why would you want to do that? You would be fighting against life itself. For what is Chaos but life?"

—Tzaal, Momentarily lucid Horror

Pink Horrors, known also as Whirling Destroyers, Squealers or Spinning Sourguts are the footsoldiers of Tzeentch, identified by their luminescent pink skin and their squeals of high-pitched laughter. Spellcasting fills Pink Horrors with joy, and they emit especial merriment as eldritch energy screeches from their upraised hands. When wounded, a Pink Horror exhales a final lunatic cackle before rapidly decomposing into an ectoplasmic blob of gyrating magic, which swiftly alters colour and divides into two Blue Horrors — diminutive replicas of their parent Daemon. Blue Horrors are sullen and malicious, like evil-tempered children, and sneer and grumble their way through a battle. Once spawned, they add a deeper whining note to the incessant chortling of the group as they attempt to grapple with enemies and squeeze the life from them, before inevitably wandering off in search of fresh entertainment.

Unique in their form’s utter unpredictability, Pink Horrors are shapeless masses of solid magic that undulate and transform, cycling through a myriad of different shapes and colours, ever changing, always in a state of becoming. New faces push out against their rubbery hides only to retreat as the section is replaced by a new flap of skin or a nest of writhing tentacles. They amble along, warping everything they touch, spraying showers of multicoloured sparks with incredible bursts.

Their behaviour is no less random. One Pink Horror might caper and gambol about, tearing at its strange flesh, while another shrieks and giggles like the maddest of men. Some grumble and lash out, letting loose terrifying shrieks or streams of nonsense, and others are utterly silent, nearly immobile, trembling with barely contained energy. Pink Horrors congregate in packs, the magic in their forms harmonising to reach new levels of potency. A single Pink Horror is capable of losing gouts of eldritch fire, but when gathered in herds, they can change the very fabric of realities, launching waves of changing energy that wreaks havoc with their opponents’ forms. Don’t believe for a minute that simply slaying these things is the answer. Many warriors have done just this only to find themselves facing twice as many of these horrid things, as they turn into angry Blue Horrors.