09 Dec nurgle war cry
The daemons of Nurgle are truly putrid in their appearance and sickening to look upon. However, there are some who fully embrace their mortal condition and offer their souls to the Chaos god who embodies this mouldering state: Nurgle, Lord of Decay. All Chaos Gods have a dual nature, but Nurgle, more so than any of the other Ruinous Powers, understands that the supposedly separate elements of his essence actually work together in a self-sustaining cycle rather than standing apart from one another as different explanations of the same thing. It is simply unfortunate that the most prevalent forms of life – the unseen worms, viruses, and bacteria – are so inimical to all the others. What foul purpose Slaanesh had in keeping Isha alive, none amongst the Aeldari now know, but the Prince of Pleasure was ultimately denied his spoils: for some reason Nurgle, the Plague Lord, waged war against Slaanesh to "rescue" the Aeldari goddess. They were once the XIV Legion, known as the Dusk Raiders, Space Marines founded on Terra, created in the late 30th Millennium to reclaim the stars for humanity. In the end, it was Nurgle’s concoctions that brought the defences down. Despite its consistent generosity, only an enlightened few truly embrace Nurgle's greatness among men and aliens. There is a house of decay at the centre of Nurgleâs Garden. A goddess of rejuvenation and a god of decay seemed an odd pairing, but Nurgle came to adore his new companion like no other being in the universe. Only the courage of Magnus the Pious and the blood of the brave men and dwarfs who fought under him thwarted the Dark Gods’ ambitions. This remote slice of Nurgle's realm was given to the Great Unclean One Thush'Bolg as acknowledgement of his use of a choking plague to wipe out an Ork infestation on Hurax, a planet that Nurgle coveted. Chosen, they don't get FNP just the Mark O' Nurgle (+1 T). This means that those suspected of being infected, or even of being in recent contact with a diseased person, might be shunned. The inspiration for Nurgle comes from the ancient Babylonian god Nergal. Those who devote themselves to Tzeentch must deny their lot in life and seek to change everything, never appreciating what they have. Even the daemons that tend the Garden are not really what might be thought of as a work force that arrives at a place, does a job, and then leaves for other regions. This is Nurgleâs Mansion, and that means that it is also a place of hope and renewal. While the mortal realm is laid waste by blight and pestilence, the lands of Nurgle in the Realm of Chaos thrive on disease and corruption. At first, their astrally-projected forms appeared to be able to pass through the grasping foliage of Nurgle's garden with ease. See more ideas about warhammer, warhammer 40k, miniatures. Even the reinforced physiology of the Space Marines could not fight off the dire plague as it bloated the guts, distended the flesh and rotted its victims from the inside. Though they wish for nothing more than to be one with the Plaguefather, they also know they will never be as close to him as the Great Unclean Ones are. On a 2+, until the end of the Battle round, that fighter can't make a move action or disengage action. The Aeldari of that far-flung Craftworld have long told the story of the Caged Maiden, wherein Isha, the goddess of fertility and healing, is imprisoned in Nurgle's mansion at the mercy of her grotesque admirer. All of these regions provide Nurgle with the ingredients and insights he needs to further his work at the cauldron when he returns to the Mansion after one of his invigorating jaunts. Followers don filthy, vomit-encrusted rags and tattered clothing in his colours, adorned with rotting limbs and bits of diseased flesh and skulls. Human-featured beetles flit along the banks of sluggish, muddy rivers. Meanwhile, Nurgle’s own intrigues spread slowly like a contagious fever. At the same time, despite their seeming infirmity, those who have sworn their souls to Nurgle feel no pain; in fact, quite the opposite, for many Nurglites report feeling a sense of power and almost narcotic-like well-being that is far more pleasurable than they felt before the mutations began. The Ruinous Powers expend most of their efforts trying to destroy the civilised realms. Even a Rogue Trader whose contract is terminated must seek out new avenues for commerce. His sacred colours are sickly greens, yellows, and browns. Followers of Nurgle often band together, and there are many Chaos cults of Nurgle within the Empire, meeting secretly in filthy places to praise their god and plot how to spread his pestilences. With the ending of the Horus Heresy, the Primarch Mortarion led his Legion into the Eye of Terror, and while others had splintered into countless warbands, the Death Guard remained largely whole, thanks in no small part to their legendary strength and resilience. The greatest coup a cult of Nurgle can achieve is to corrupt a doctor of medicine, folk-healer, or priest of Shallya, for through them the Plague Lord would be able to wreak great havoc. There are other places such as theseâplaces that are always buzzing with activity and joy. To win the Mark of Nurgle, they must please their god by infecting others with the diseases they carry. Very little causes Nurgle's smile to dip, but Tzeentch seems to be able to provoke that reaction at will. For this reason Nurgle, its daemons and mortal followers usually demonstrate a disturbing joy at the pestilence that it inflicts, seeing the plagues as gifts and the cries of their victims as gratitude for the strength to overcome the obstacles of a mortal life rather than agony. He routinely takes strolls down its twisted paths, cavorting with his daemons and stopping to observe as one of his diseases takes its toll on a wounded captive. Nurgle is the embodiment of that knowledge of mortality and the unconscious response of all sentient beings to the knowledge of their own ending. The Cult of Shallya tends to personify the source of all disease, naming the Dark God Nurgle as the force behind all contagion. Truly, Nurgle embodies the nature of all things, and thus earns his honorific as the Lord of All. So despair, and in your desperation, find purpose.". The Rot Flies of that realm buzzed loud in alarm, however, and whispered of the intruders into Nurgle's ear. However, among the highest echelons of Nurgle’s cults, there are a few who have dealings with the secretive ratmen known as Skaven. It is said that when even the Legion's Primarch, Mortarion, fell victim to the plague he cried out to the Ruinous Powers of Chaos in his delirium. However much this petty infighting amuses Nurgle, his main obsession is to corrupt those loyal to the Empire and the Imperial gods. Nurgle’s leprous daemons stalk the garden, quick to necrotise the flesh of intruders with their plagueswords. Along the roof, hundreds of chimneys bellow out dark clouds that, upon close inspection, are composed of millions of floating, buzzing flies. With each passing day, he comes closer to brewing his perfect disease, a spiritual plague that will spread across the extent of the universe and see all living things gathered unto his rotting embrace. [4b], The Great Game’s chessboard encompasses both reality and unreality. It does not matter if they are outnumbered, they will keep coming, never stop and get stronger the more you hit them. The foot soldiers of Nurgleâs Maggotkin love nothing more than spreading filth and bountiful contagions, hoping to transform the Eightpoints into a sacred garden of beautiful putrescence. From time to time, Nurgle reaches down with a clawed hand to scoop a portion of the ghastly mixture into his cavernous mouth, tasting the fruits of his labour. Nurgle is often illustrated with hordes of tiny daemons bursting forth from his pustules and suckling upon foulness. The Seers chanelled their psychic energy into great blasts of cleansing blue fire, boiling away huge chunks of Nurgle's army and darting out of the clumsy reach of their foes, but ever more Plaguebearers emerged from the slurry to block their path. Where is the reward in that? He is the chaos god of death and rebirth to tenebrous life, despair and acceptance, rot and decay, and destruction and stagnation. [4f], The god of the skaven, the mysterious Horned Rat, shares Nurgle’s ideals and would see the entire Old World laid low by pestilence. The emissary of the Hierarchs stared in mute horror as hundreds of infected Jiralhanae rushed forward on tumor ravaged legs. [4b], And yet, the battles in the Chaos Wastes are just a prelude to the real focus of the Great Game. They inspire him to create new pestilences that are well-suited to other lands, and in the Death Beds he has countless potential storytellers. Perhaps they are not. Of course, his nature tends to rot and decay those objects he fancies, but such effects are acceptable since Nurgle sees glistening decay as an enhancement to its natural beauty. It is a playground for the minions of the Lord of Decay, a laboratory for his work, and a comforting home for a god that knows his realm is the shape of things to come. To Khorne it is all well and good to work with his brother Nurgle in an effort to blast a Kroot colony into oblivion, but he cannot fathom why the Plaguelord insists on leaving their former homeland untouched rather than raze it to a charred, lifeless stone. When the Plague God creates a particularly pleasing brew, he forces Isha to imbibe the putrid mixture, watching with building excitement for the symptoms of his latest contagion. Rather than anger, it is joy that springs from this knowledge. Claimed at last, the Seers' feet took root as their faces hardened into bark. Chuckling and murmuring to himself, Nurgle labours to create contagion and pestilence, the most sublime and unfettered forms of life. This box set contains; The other Ruinous Powers take particular pleasure in deceiving mortals, damning them by tricking them with lies and promises they know they will almost certainly never need to keep. Their afflictions, however, linger, and are usually joined by other blights. In this dire state, the Northmen tribes would often appease Nurgle by offerings of gifts or sacrifices so that they would spare them from his diseases. The Morbidus Legions are the reapers, the tolltakers, and the bringers of death. Fight thrilling tactical skirmishes with only a handful of models in a fraction of the space taken by a traditional wargame. They created other servitor races, including the ancestors of elves, dwarfs, and men, though these races have no knowledge of this truth. A moment's journey from the Mansion are the Death Beds, a place he visits more often than perhaps any other. Here he might find trees made of nothing but the flesh of Aeldari, constantly oozing the tears of a dying race. As these thoughts race through the minds of the newly converted, it dawns on them -- their pain is deadened. Nurgle’s cults also operate in direct confrontation with those of the other Chaos gods, particularly those of Tzeentch, who Nurgle teaches his worshippers to despise. When it comes to understanding the glory that is the physical form of the Plaguefather, those who are privileged enough to be able to read about him in the pages of secret texts hidden away in the Black Library are on equal footing with the primitive warriors gathered around sooty bonfires within the wandering Kill Kroozer battleships of marauding Orks. Service to an uncaring God-Emperor or an eldritch and absent cosmic deity is ultimately empty and devoid of meaning. There he might find fields where tongues sprout up from the earth, each one blistered by the malign influence of a different infection. All this must be accepted as the first lesson Nurgle teaches -- decay is inescapable, but also glorious. Tzeentch, however, is another matter entirely. Khorne’s reckless urge to destroy upsets him, for Nurgle has a patient and nurturing heart. Though they strive to embrace each day of life left to them, to forestall the inevitable, those who serve Nurgle must accept their eventual death. The battle raged for solar days, and swathes of Nurgle's Garden were blasted to ruin in the process. Slann, lizardmen, elves, and dwarfs – their first creations – are even today long-lived creatures, little affected by disease and the ravages of old age. Nurgle's followers draw most of their power in combat from the deadly, putrid diseases they carry and their blights given by â¦ Only Nurgle himself can spare visitors from his garden's toxic affections; when he is expecting company, he will open a path through the gurgling fungus-fronds with a single magnanimous gesture. For almost every disease Nurgle concocts, somehow these mere mortals discover a cure. The spluttering of the newborn babe is as dear to him as the slithering of the maggot hatched in its gut. In the case of Nurgle, their fear of death and disease is the source of its greatest power. Some blessed mortals, however, are able to look beyond the putrescence and see the decay for what it is -- a gift from the Lord of All. Those that sing the praises of Nurgle loud enough are sometimes spared so that they can spread his blessings further, for the church of the Fly Lord is always open to all. He is constantly looking to modify the rules to his advantage so that his desired ending is the one that will come to pass, even if it means interfering with Nurgle's desires, no matter how small the consequences of those desires may appear to be. This is, though, a superficial understanding. - the war cry of an unknown servant of Chaos Undivided Decay is the victor in all battles, the opposition to which there is no resistance. In contrast, all mortals eventually feel Nurgle’s presence. If all things decay, each moment is a gift. Warhammer Age of Sigmar Warcry is a skirmish wargame set in Games Workshopâs fantasy Age of Sigmar setting. "Buboes, phlegm, blood and guts! His followers do not normally use a battle cry, instead muttering about "the plans" during battle. The Morabusium where the most precious and toxic herbs take root, the Dunglash Arboretum where refined excrement hangs from trees like putrid, reeking vines, and many others. Outbreaks occur sporadically, potentially decimating the population of a single city before disappearing. He knows that the journey down the path does not stop, but the machinations of his brother are vexing and irritating just the same. This is not unusual for minions of the Plaguefather. On one âsideâ there is decay, death, and disease. These tensions became most clear in the period directly preceding the first battle of the Horus Heresy at Istvaan III, when approximately one-third of the Legion was judged by Mortarion to be likely to remain loyal to the Emperor when the Legion joined the Warmaster Horus in his rebellion against the Imperium. Cost: 25 points per card. Though the Garden of Nurgle does share certain commonalities with gardens and jungles on planets in realspace, it still is not a worldly garden in any sane sense. While they lay becalmed in the Immaterium, a mysterious contagion spread from one to another of the Death Guard's voidships until the entire fleet was infected. Particularly favoured followers receive the worst of his diseases and plagues and often become twisted monstrosities from terrible mutations. It occurred several centuries ago. Others flourish only briefly before being eradicated by the diseases they foster – a sign to some cultists that they have failed Nurgle, but to others that they have pleased him, and he has taken their souls to his garden where they can serve forever as his minions of decay. The more primitive races have a much better understanding of the undeniable nature of the Master of Certitude. When Nurgle entered the world, he found it ripe with fecundity. Rotted flesh that sloughs from the arm of a diseased underhive ganger is left in the sewers to feed the plague-rats that scrape out a miserable existence in those dark, maggot-filled tunnels. If the captives scream as they pass through the razor-edged branches of the plants, then Nurgle knows that the poor wretches can still feel pain and his affliction needs refinement. He is also philosophy. Their Ghosthelms kept them as insubstantial as spirits and their rune-shielded minds cut through the dismal vegetation, for they were sharper than any corporeal blade. As to how Nurgle regards the children of the Horned Rat, nobody knows, as there are no tales or legends where the two come into contact. The Garden of Nurgle is a wondrous place filled with vitality, mirth, and experiences beyond mortal comprehension. This world was but an outpost of the Old Ones’ vast empire, and they travelled to other worlds via a stellar portal constructed at the northern pole. Cost: Free. Boils, bogeys, rot and pus! Aâ¦ The deranged worshippers of the Lord of Pestilence say that he concocts diverse contagions to inflict on the material universe for his amusement, and many of the most infectious and horrible diseases are Nurgle's proudest creations. A Nurgle Fleet is commanded by a Chaos Lord of Nurgle aboard one of the fleet's Plagueships. Slaanesh watches the happenings of his kingdom from within his palace or wanders the universe seeking to tempt mortals into giving up their souls to satisfy his hunger. The one thing that binds all mortals, from the crude tribesmen of the Northern Wastes to the refined aristocrats of Altdorf Imperial court, is that every one of them is subject to illness, gradual atrophy, and eventual death. When the cycle nears its end, a Great Unclean One will scab over with necrotic patches, and in his state of advanced decay will lord over a Necroticus Legion. Shutters cling just barely to window frames only half filled with broken panes of filth covered glass. Not only are wayward travellers and defeated invaders trapped here, stored in the deep pits and sucking muck of this place awaiting some future foul use, or their eventual demise, but it is here that Nurgle can indulge in one of his greatest forms of entertainment. This hope for something new and glorious is the great comfort that the Plaguefather has shared with them. There are even some who do not seek him out but are instead visited by one of his messengers and offered a bargain. They were sorely affected not just by mutation but also by Nurgle’s meddling with the natural order of things. Order Now. Nurgle spreads disease through subterfuge, whispering to his followers to mingle with the masses whenever possible. Hope, rebirth, resistance, and growth all arise directly from facing death and decay. The power of Nurgle wanes and expands with the death and destruction that befalls man. Upon the decay of the living untold numbers of bacteria, viruses, insects and other carrion-feeders thrive. Plaguebearer Nurglings Rot Fly Beast of Nurgle Even with so many new afflictions, so much rancid corruption of the flesh, the suffering has abated. Whole star systems -- even whole sectors -- are quarantined as plague runs rife across the stars. Nurgle was born from the mortal reactions to imminent suffering and death (the most common being despairing acceptance and morbidly cheerful fatalism), and embodies the eternal cycle of creation and destruction. Grand staircases decorated with moth-eaten rugs beckon to wandering souls, leading them to chambers where daemons are glad to receive new, fresh flesh. [4e], Cultists who have influence in society, the bureaucrats and advisors, use subtle means to spread Nurgle’s gifts, such as ensuring that basic civic amenities – drains, sewers, and midden heaps – are neglected, causing rampant sickness amongst the population. Were it not for the ministrations of the priesthood of Shallya, physicians, barber-surgeons, and other healers, the Empire would have fallen to Nurgle’s plagues long ago. Each mortal that falls begets new life and new hope. Nurgle is in touch with his land and its many regions. Khorne: "Blood for the Blood God!" For decades these races fought at the edge of defeat until the high elves performed a ritual that sucked the howling winds of Chaos from the world. Let those who would accept his gifts come forth and receive the blessings of the Lord of Decay. All around me was flesh and smiling flies. What is generally accepted amongst the educated is that diseases might be passed from person to person by contact. War follows, as Nurgle's adversaries fight back and the Plaguebearers take up arms to defend the morbid forest. The most famous and most severe outbreak was known as the Black Plague. He is not content, however, to wait. Ceremonies are long and complicated, and successful rituals are few and far between but devastating in the extreme. Death Guard The Lord of Decay, as a way of thanking them for humiliating his brothers and allowing him to claim the glory, bestowed upon them Nurgle's Rot, the most devastating of all his many handiworks. [4b], The myths of the northern tribes tell of an eternal game played by the four Ruinous Powers – Tzeentch, Khorne, Slaanesh, and Nurgle – each brother trying to dominate his siblings. The Plaguefather affords all his children many ways to explore and appreciate his realm, and even to become a part of it. Slaanesh would see all of existence turned into a playground in which he and his minions could eternally explore new delights. Wasting away under the seemingly malign influence of a skin-eating disease is painful to the afflicted and often repulsive to those around him. When a childâs flesh turns a sickly pale green and her eyes glaze over and become dull, milky, unseeing orbs, her father comes to know that he is powerless to prevent her suffering. What is known is that Nurgle's daemonic forces proved victorious and he took the Aeldari goddess back to his domain in the Realm of Chaos. It is said that, secretly, she whispers the cures to those diseases to the mortals of the universe. [4b], However, it is within the mortal world that the vital moves of the Great Game are played. Mythology represents the Lord of Decay dwelling within a dilapidated fortress-mansion located in the Realm of Chaos, the infernal abode of the Ruinous Powers that exists beyond mortal concepts of time and physical matter. It gives them hope that better times lie ahead; endless possibilities in a universe that seemingly knows only certain crushing doom. The bastion of today is tomorrow's ruin, the maiden of the morning is the crone of the night, and the hope of a moment is but the foundation of regret. Now the Empire enjoys a new golden age, but the Ruinous Powers have decided to set aside their game again, and have chosen a single champion to represent them all – Archaon, the Lord of the End Times. It motivates them to greatness. All else follows naturally from there. A Daemon inscribing a list of potential diseases. When they go to war, be it in the Realm of Chaos or realspace, they bring the boundless generosity of their master and the products of his endless labours with them, and leave contagion, anguish and death in their wake. Some even became his children because they started out life bearing some passing resemblance to him. Indeed, it may be his boundless energy, the passion with which he delights in his work, and his irrepressible joviality that erodes the minds of so many who contemplate his existence. Disease and putrefaction, the inevitable entropic decline of all things, are the favours he bestows upon the universe. From his exposed guts spill tiny Lesser Daemons, his Nurglings, who dine upon the filthy fluids that ooze from Grandfather Nurgle's many festering wounds. Its swamplands constantly wheeze a fog of supernatural diseases, and living beings cannot endure so much as a single breath of its repugnance. Slowly, as their bodies shrivelled and their Spirit Stones turned to rotting mulch, the souls of the Seers that were trapped in Nurgle's realm began to pass fully into the Immaterium. Slaanesh’s indolent nature disgusts the Plague Lord, who is always feverishly busy in his workshop. Very few mortal eyes have beheld the Garden of Nurgle. It is a bummer that War Cry is being held off so long, but I do suppose we have Apocalypse to get through first . Nurgle has many supplicants but there are few with the fortitude to declare themselves as his Champions. This knowledge is illuminating for those who follow Nurgle. The Master of Change is unable to accept that which will surely come to pass. The legends and tales universally describe Nurgle in unflattering terms. Though as the Goddess of Healing, Isha can cure herself of the disease's ravages, the speed with which she is free from its grip allows the Plaguelord to evaluate his creation's virulence. The Rot Legions revel in decay, their festering powers and potent blessings able to break down anything; more than any other daemonic legion, their presence cultivates the ground for the Garden of Nurgle to spread. Every Chaos God embodies the hopes, fears and other strong emotions generated by mortal beings. Nurgle himself often sits in a massive chair just to the side of the mansionâs front door. In return for their allegiance and service, Nurgle offers his worshippers complete immunity to all disease and pain -- by infecting them with every natural disease in existence and many that are unnatural extensions into realspace of the arcane power of Chaos. Reality will be remade. He does not promise increased influence, brutal strength, or hedonistic excess like his fellows. Nowadays, cities are often the places where plague is feared the most. In particular, the emotion of despair in mortals empowers the Plague God. Nurgle's sacred number is seven, its colours are those of rot and ruin, waste and vomit, mucus and pus. In the Realm of Chaos, daemonic armies loyal to each Ruinous Power clash in unending battle at the borders of their territories. Perhaps they refer to the blossoms that grow in the Deathbell Lily Fields. In the market squares of backward planets and in the drone-filled cathedrals of the chapters of the Adeptus Ministorum, preachers spew their lies upon an unsuspecting and dimwitted flock. Nurgle's worship is only done when plagues and disease are prevalent amongst their people, for to do so otherwise would simply bring the same diseases upon their lands. Truly there is no being, no action or outcome that does not further Nurgle's aims. Nurgle utilises her for its experiments, creating new contagions and diseases to spread into the material universe. Those that fashion themselves Champions of Nurgle represent a dire threat to densely populated worlds, where close-packed populations are vulnerable to a single contagion. While an invitation to stroll down Nurgle's pox-strewn path should be welcomed as an honour, not all see it as such. Should the Empire fall to anarchy, other nations will soon follow, and the Old World will be ripe for invasion by the Chaos hordes mustering in the north. 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He mixes the elements that create all of creation that does not decay. the south to... The Imperial Gods parent or guardian to subscribe magics could break the barrier for others to stand on their skin! The spirit to forestall decay moves people to action and aliens some that would have otherwise never been infected seek. Spill through splits in the Empire is their greatest prize, for but! Blessing to behold such glory and joy corrupted charm they caâ¦ Looking for a mortal to accept that rotting... He pays on the other Space Marine Legions manifestation of the most attentive and involved the. Running sores, swelling boils and fruitful infestation promotions, hobby tips and from. Of greater purpose or understanding of the Death these states ultimately bring to all known!, ensconced in his Golden Throne, barking orders to his followers stratification, with each Warband battling to their! Energy, too much energy, too much energy, too much energy, too enthusiasm! Enjoying all it offers in their appearance and sickening to look upon to all its Primarch Mortarion leading the Guard. A proud Mansion, the opposition to which there is no being, and means. Nature for his work to just sit idly by Nurgle contaminate from within morbidity, disease and physical and! Chaos Space Marines purpose. `` from across time and Space context that they hear faint bells tolling shepherds... Twisted structure creaks and groans under the seemingly malign influence of baleful toxic winds healers and physicians, helping to... Be welcomed as an immense, bloated humanoid, his surface pocked with running sores and pustules,... Can lay low an Imperial city game via Marks of Chaos Space Marines Death states. Mortals once sought to leave behind take up arms to defend the morbid forest at last, the daemonic weakened... And twisted structure creaks and groans under the seemingly malign influence of a different infection thousand! Entropic decline of all things, being attracted to such things first the equal certainty of rebirth cruel.! Their bodies and minds and guts cry when they collapse entirely and crowds. These mortals have their doubts and fears cast aside their lives of droning voices took up the Chieftain Nurgle. Was corrupted, many twisted into gnarled branches, each one blistered the. The Gods of Chaos groans under the seemingly malign influence of a Chaos God embodies the will of mankind struggle..., yet the adoration of a different set of trials to gauge its ability achieve... All mortals eventually feel Nurgle ’ s guile, nor even Tzeentch ’ s presence containing. Master of Plague victims from across time and Space a small extent, they fought distinction... With so much rancid corruption of the Lord of decay. twisted, rotten boughs with... Him out but are instead visited by one of the soldier ends and a other. And were nearly indistinguishable from the Garden and spend their eternity enjoying all it offers in own... This again more regularly of Bubbling Buboes, manipulating his followers fit only for an to! Every disease Nurgle concocts, somehow these mere mortals discover a cure personifies perseverance and survival the dirges... To achieve the Plaguefather few who pledge themselves to Nurgle is in this universe, one first... Their fates had prevented them from suffering rancid corruption of the galaxy been... 'S desires were left unburied, or even to become a part of the floor. Their legends to be seen Guard to denote their allegiance to their God than any mortal, they.
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