The peculiar form of dark magic practised by Chaos Dwarf sorcerers has a unique effect on their metabolisms, resulting in petrification of their flesh. This starts at the feet, eventually rendering the sorcerer immobile, whereupon he must be carried from place to place by his minions. When his body turns to stone, he becomes almost impervious to pain, but can do nothing but manipulate the dark winds of magic by the sheer force of his will. Finally, when the strange affliction reaches his head, the Chaos Dwarf becomes a statue and is placed along one of the roads leading to the city of Zharr-Naggrund, joining the innumerable ranks of his brethren that have succumbed to this disorder.
— The World Of Warhammer
We see the Sanguine Hulks. They changed their addiction, feeding on the blood of their own kind. Their diet, their concentrated blood, thick as tar, amplifies their supernatural powers to a degree their still too-humanoid forms can barely contain. See the abnormal proportions and symmetry, the knots of muscles writhing like mollusks beneath distended skin. Such strength and resilience comes at a price. Their lives are much shorter than the others of their kind — either starving to death, unable to accept any lesser blood, or being killed by their kin as too big a liability.
— The Buzzing, The Secret World
With the blackened finger stubs on his left hand, I'm pretty sure she knows that my grandfather's a death worker. Every kind of curse gives off some kind of blowback, but death curses kill a part of you. If you're lucky, it rots some of your fingers. If not, maybe it rots your lungs or heart. Every curse works the worker, my grandfather says.
