Bellowing forth a mighty, blood-curdling roar, the Exalted Deathbringer pierces his enemy with his enormous spear, lifting him high with a single, muscular heave. The weight of the unfortunate victim drives them further down onto the polearm, each agonised, twisting convulsion pushing the blade ever deeper. Soon (but not soon enough), they will perish, adding yet another grisly trophy to the Exalted Deathbringer’s ever-expanding collection
Seriously, who writes this?
Looming over his Bloodbound brethren,
his face locked into a permanent rictus of raging hatred, the Slaughterpriest is literally swollen with the force of Chaos. Demagogues capable of boiling enemies alive with a roared prayer, their booming chants fill everything around them with mindless rage, causing them to disregard any concept of self-preservation and fling themselves into battle with mindless fury. Slaughterpriests are notorious for gaining their hideous power by drinking the blood of the fallen foe; this grisly tribute to Khorne causes their limbs to stretch and bones to harden, turning them into brutes rightly feared across the realms.
I find it comedic just how bombastic and excessive all the product descriptions are these days, even ones without direct comparisons to erotic fiction. Lets take an innocuous sounding one, one that is not, by any means an extreme example.