The Tormentors are followers of Slaanesh. Like their lord they take delight in all sorts of cruel vices. They may enjoy their own lives to the fullest, but they are completely uncaring of the suffering of others.[1a]

Dechala, the Denied One, leads the Tormentors. It is said that she was once a princess of a High Elf house, though no-one knows for sure: she is so blessed by her lord Slaanesh that her features are no longer recognisable.[1a]

Dechala is perhaps the worst of the inhuman monsters to walk the wastes. She does not seek to kill her opponents, but rather to enslave them. By using fluid from corpses, mixed with blood tainted with warpstone, she has created the most potent alchemical elixir in the world. No mortal can drink it without suffering a horrible change. Those who are captured by the Tormentors need no chains: they will be made addicts to this hideous substance. Their craving for the noxious liquid of Dechala will render them helpless slaves to the slightest whim of their uncaring masters.[1a]

In their camps, the Tormentors are served by a multitude of slaves who attend to their every need. The decadence of the Tormentors has sunk to levels of depravity unknown anywhere else in the world. Each dose taken by the slaves not only eats away their minds, it also mutates their twisted bodies. The victims of the elixir are the horrors who follow Dechala's warband. They are revolting blasphemies against nature, things that should not be. They were once free-willed creatures, either other followers of Chaos or Humans, Dwarfs or Elves who had the misfortune to encounter the Tormentors in battle and live. Over time the elixir deteriorates the body, mutating and twisting it until all that remains is a quivering mass of flesh. Many victims die in indescribable agony. And so the Tormentors must acquire new slaves, for they have grown accustomed to their life of ease and luxury. Thus the Tormentors are always eager for battle.[1a]

The Tormentors wear armour that resembles the scales of a snake, and they ride into battle in chariots, with their enthralled slaves nailed to the cabs as living shields. For all their decadence and seeming grace, they are warriors with few equals. Tormentors are absolutely fearless, screaming with pleasure even when cut in battle, suffering even the worst injuries with nothing but fascination.[1a]

Those that are not slain by Tormentors for sport, or are only wounded and left lying on the battlefield, will be overwhelmed by a mass of screaming slaves, held down and forced to take the elixir of Dechala. One drop is enough, and they are damned to a miserable existence for the rest of their harsh, but mercifully short lives. It is said that it is better to take your own life than be left at the mercy of Dechala, for the meaning of the word mercy is alien to her.[1a]


  • 1: Warhammer Armies: Realm of Chaos (5th Edition)
    • 1a: pg. 92

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