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Though he is a god of Chaos, he also has a need to create order, to monitor his creations, and to control his experiments. Nurgle’s leprous daemons stalk the garden, quick to necrotise the flesh of intruders with their plagueswords. All that was will cease to be, and from the rotted ruins a new and glorious reality will emerge -- one dominated by Nurgle and his beloved children. Through his careful and ceaseless experimentations, begun within his wondrous Garden and then unleashed throughout the galaxy, the pillars that support the framework of existence are slowly but surely weakened. Nurgle is unlike the other Ruinous Powers in many ways, including how he views his domain within the Realm of Chaos. Their words cannot encompass the horror of the truth. An unwary cult leader who allies with these creatures is likely to meet a grisly death when he is no longer of any use to them. Nurgle, also known as the Plague Lord, the Lord of Pestilence, the Fly Lord, and the Urfather is the Chaos God of Disease, Decay, Destruction, and Death by Rebirth. It is a bummer that War Cry is being held off so long, but I do suppose we have Apocalypse to get through first . Very little causes Nurgle's smile to dip, but Tzeentch seems to be able to provoke that reaction at will. Nurgle is more than form, though. Though none can say exactly what forces acted upon the soul of the Primarch of the Death Guard, whether he was already damned or whether he made his pact in some state of fever, he must have called out for deliverance, and his call must have been answered. Other cultists secretly infect water supplies or food stores, or simply wander among the crowded city streets passing their illnesses to everyone they meet. 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. Bellies swell and distend, the flesh straining to contain bleeding entrails that push the abdomen outward. Greater Daemon The chosen of Nurgle often find this symbol growing on their festering skin. Nurgle has need of fields in which to plant his crops of blighted herbs, pits to hold the bodies upon which he conducts his experiments, and, most important of all, a gigantic and decrepit mansion in which to store his creations, brew his legendary contagions, entertain guests, and plot the course of the Great Corruption. Beneath mildewed and sagging beams, the great god works for eternity at a rusted cauldron, a receptacle vast enough to contain all the oceans of all the worlds. A standalone game system, Warcry has been built from the ground up to be balanced, fast, and most importantly, fun! Nurgle, like other Chaos Gods, does not have one single form that can be recorded, shared, analysed, or conceived. They often carry soiled banners before them as they wander the Old World, looking to spread his blessings. The Old Ones vanished forever, leaving the remnants of the slann to organise the defence of their devastated cities against the daemonic hordes that invaded from the shattered gate. Nurglings cackle with glee as they roll down hillsides that form spontaneously when Great Unclean Ones vomit up regiments they consumed thousands of standard years ago. Animals that are on their last legs due to plague are often sacrificed to Nurgle and left to rot in the wells or food stores of the healthy.[2e]. Men live and die, and for what? To this end, the cults of Nurgle contaminate from within. The taint of Nurgle spreads readily among beasts and humanoids alike, and the awful arcane illness known as Nurgle's Rot may strike even the strongest person and cause him or her to be outcast as a leper. Likewise, mortal champions become bloated, stinking, leaking collections of rotted flesh, exposed entrails, necrotic sores, and all manner of foulness. Perhaps the one most intimate with humanity, Nurgle feeds upon our despair and touches mankind with plague as has been seen for countless generations. Great Unclean Ones cycle through phases over the course of their immortal lifespans, assuming new mantles with each new legion they take command of; for example, they may lead an Epidemic Legion to spread diseases before moving on to command a Rot Legion in order to bask in such maladies. Thus, the Death Guard Legion has enjoyed the favour of Nurgle for the last ten thousand standard years. His sickening, pus-covered form is accompanied by an enveloping cloud of buzzing flies. Even with so many new afflictions, so much rancid corruption of the flesh, the suffering has abated. Regeneration comes from decay, just as hope springs from despair. He was irresistibly drawn to the rhythmic beat of life, but could not resist manipulating and twisting nature for his own amusement. A dehydrated test subject may see these lakes and, believing salvation is at hand, drink deeply of the cool waters. Wherever there are plague pits and mass graves, the rotting splendour of Nurgle shines through. It does not matter, though, because whatever it is dwells within the mansion at the centre of the Garden, there can be no denying that the creations of this being are both foul and wondrous, and the joy with which he goes about his work is infectious. Decrepit and ancient, yet eternally strong at its foundations, the mansion is an eclectic structure of rotted timbers and broken walls, overgrown with crawling poison ivy and thick mosses. In return, Nurglites are completely immune to these diseases, or any disease, and their rotting bodies also become physically robust, capable of withstanding injuries and damage that would destroy even those enjoying the most robust health. [1f][2a][2c], Out of all the Dark Gods, Nurgle is perhaps the least worshipped amongst the tribes of the North. So many hopes and dreams! 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. 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. Examples include the Lords of Fulsome Filth, the Almighty Bringer of Rancid Decay, or the Sloptoxic Master of Bubbling Buboes. Nurgle's gurgling and pulsating organs are rank with the excrement of decay, spilling and spurting through its ruptured skin to hang like obscene fruit around its girth. In this universe, one must rot to survive.". [4e], Those who embrace Nurgle embrace their own doom but lose the fear of their inevitable demise even though, disfigured by disease and mutation, their own features cause dread among others. It occurred several centuries ago. Decay is unavoidable. While those who wish to spread decay and corruption are certainly amongst his followers, there are also those who wish to endure, to become tough enough to handle the difficulties and opportunities presented by an uncaring world. A Nurgle Fleet is commanded by a Chaos Lord of Nurgle aboard one of the fleet's Plagueships. The whispered prayer of a parent over a fever-struck child, the anguished pleas of the dying man for one more day of life; these are meat and drink to Nurgle. Only the most powerful weapons or the most lethal of wounds can ever have a chance to bring a Follower of Nurgle down for good, and even to get close to such followers would often bring death to the aggressor himself. The most famous and most severe outbreak was known as the Black Plague. [4e], Of all the human nations, one of the most fascinating to Nurgle is the Empire. Differences come to light in many ways. When Nurgle’s chaotic garden intrudes into Tzeentch’s bordering realm, the minions of the Lord of Change sear the vegetation with magical fire. The leafless boughs of these ancient trees provide shelter for daemonic birds that sing the funeral dirges of any unwelcome visitor. Some of these likely only exist in the nightmare visions and untrustworthy hallucinations of disease-ravaged minds. In the same way, Nurgle also personifies Perseverance and Survival. The Old Ones dwelt in these temple-cities, guarded by Lizardmen and served by amphibious minions – the Slann – who shared their potent abilities. Nurgle is the embodiment of that knowledge of mortality and the unconscious response of all sentient beings to the knowledge of their own ending. Contact us Monday - Sunday: 10:00am - 6:00pm (Tue, Thur & Fri until 10pm) Just as his followers have accepted the teachings of their lord, Nurgle himself long ago accepted that decay brings an end to all things, but that through such decay life begins anew. In some extreme cases, a diseased person and his family might even be boarded up in their home and left to die, either of the disease or of starvation. It is a house of pestilence, rot, and death. The XIV Legion's Astartes had been primarily Terran-born before Mortarion joined the Legion; after that time almost all of the Legion's Neophytes were drawn from Barbarus. He does not promise increased influence, brutal strength, or hedonistic excess like his fellows. A tribe of Nurglite warriors ready to further his cause. Icons of the Plague God Nurgle, commonly utilised by the Death Guard to denote their allegiance to their patron god. Indeed, Nurgle is undoubtedly the oldest of the Chaos Gods, for the process of death and decay is as old as Life itself. [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. From your wounds the fester pours." The Plague Lord The Plague God The Lord of Decay Grandfather Nurgle His sacred number is seven, and his symbol incorporates a triangle of three circles representing the unending cycle of birth, suffering, and death. For these newest of Nurgle's adopted children, it is as if the morning fog has lifted and they see the world clearly with fresh eyes. "Entropy is all-consuming, fed by all struggles against it. There are other places such as these—places that are always buzzing with activity and joy. 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. The Plague Lord is often referred to as "Grandfather Nurgle," "Father Nurgle" or "Papa Nurgle" by its followers because of this hideous paternal stance. Distemper!" All Plague Legions are Nurgle's creations, and so carry pestilence and propagate their master's foul will, yet each is associated with specific stages of the Fly Lord's cycle of decay and regeneration. This is the trade in which Nurgle traffics. Because of the potential for utter catastrophe from even a single outbreak, much work has been done by some of the Empire’s finest minds, in an effort to prepare for the worst. Even the decrepit Emperor of Man, ensconced in His Golden Throne, sits as a testament to Nurgle's greatness. [4e], Favourite recruiting grounds for cultists of Nurgle include hospices, leper colonies, and filthy slums – anywhere that the diseased congregate. This means that the physical form of the Poxyards changes to suit the task. 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. As a skirmish wargame, players pit small warbands of warriors against each other in brutal combat. Like a normal garden, the domain of Nurgle is home to a bewildering array of flora and fauna, all interconnected and supporting the whole. Nurgle is depicted as an immense monster whose scabrous flab is the hue of decomposing flesh. To commemorate his victory and to demonstrate constant thanks to his lord for his reward, Thush'Bolg used their own intestines to hang every single Ork from the colony in the trees of his domain. See more ideas about warhammer, warhammer 40k, miniatures. Those that embrace these "gifts" are given unbelievable constitution against all disease and against even mortal weapons. They admonish their listeners that to turn from their faith is to join the ranks of the Lost and the Damned. Among all the major intelligent species of the galaxy, Mankind fears death and the onset of nonexistence the most, and it is humans who have always been the majority of the Plague Lord's servants. These daemons are a part of the experience of the garden itself. It is the Embracing Grandfather who encourages his followers to defy the doom of mortal corruption, and instead use it as a source of strength and inspiration. Reality will be remade. To those subjected to their loathsome assaults, the legions of Nurgle seem like an amorphous mass, but amidst the shambling anarchy there is purpose and design. While an invitation to stroll down Nurgle's pox-strewn path should be welcomed as an honour, not all see it as such. 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. So often these champions take on an appearance not unlike that of their dark patron. 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. Meanwhile, Nurgle’s own intrigues spread slowly like a contagious fever. In particular, the emotion of despair in mortals empowers the Plague God. The popular miasmatic theory proposes that many ailments are spread by bad smells. The once-gleaming white and grey armour was stained with filth, and the noble warriors were transformed into walking hives of death and abomination. Oh, Plaguefather, your gifts are boundless! Such is the paradox of Nurgle. https://warhammerfantasy.fandom.com/wiki/Nurgle?oldid=126403. Perhaps they refer to the blossoms that grow in the Deathbell Lily Fields. His sacred colours are sickly greens, yellows, and browns. Complete Silence (Death Guard) The most common chant, from Nurgle daemons, is listing the assorted plagues in existence. 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. Death Guard No matter the incarnation of the Poxyards, this corner of the Garden always gives Nurgle new insights, and therefore he spends a great deal of time there. Few escape the touch of Nurgle in their lives. 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. Operating in the role of heavy infantry, the Astartes of the XIV Legion were experts at survival and endurance, and quickly gained a reputation among the other newly-forged Legions as relentless and disciplined fighters. They dote over their charges in the manner of a loving parent, cajoling each of their Plague Legion's seven Tallybands upon its appointed tasks. The mortals' unconscious response to that fear, the desperation to cling to life no matter what the cost, gives Nurgle an opening into their souls. [4d], Bowelsteep, the Red Ague, and a thousand other poxes and pestilences infected the lizardmen defenders. These unusual traits go as far towards colouring the composition and tactics of the army they lead as does the daemon legion type itself. Some cults of Nurgle mirror society’s social stratification, with the leadership reserved for those of noble birth. Sometimes the skaven make an alliance with the servants of the Lord of Decay, manipulating his followers to further their own schemes. Upon the decay of the living untold numbers of bacteria, viruses, insects and other carrion-feeders thrive. At his feet pools of pus and other bodily fluids gathered, in which his children splashed and played with glee. To Nurgle, these alternatives are indistinguishable -- self-indulgent fantasies with no sense of greater purpose or understanding of the nature of things. When Nurgle's diseases wax strong in the mortal realm, his garden blooms with death's heads and fresh filth, encroaching upon the lands of the other Chaos Gods. Yet there is one myth upon a single Craftworld that tells of how the Maiden Goddess Isha was not slain by the Dark Prince and absorbed by Slaanesh like the rest of the Aeldari Pantheon after his birth during the Fall of the Aeldari. If all things decay, each moment is a gift. Yes, T5 is handy for CC troopers, they can take a lot more damage, and Banshees cry when they see them! All things, no matter how solid and permanent they seem, are liable to eventual corruption and death. On a 2+, until the end of the Battle round, that fighter can't make a move action or disengage action. Yet the god's worshippers exist in numbers enough to ensure its daemon servants access the material dimension wherever plague abounds. The Lord of Decay and his foul experiments. Old wounds rip open again spontaneously and invite fresh infections. On the one hand, it is the Lord of Decay, whose body is wracked with disease; on the other, the god is full of unexpected energy and a desire to organise and enlighten. Nurgle. Nurgle's followers draw most of their power in combat from the deadly, putrid diseases they carry and their blights given by … "Buboes, phlegm, blood and guts! 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. In the Realm of Chaos, daemonic armies loyal to each Ruinous Power clash in unending battle at the borders of their territories. Wasting away under the seemingly malign influence of a skin-eating disease is painful to the afflicted and often repulsive to those around him. Man O' War cards are not available to the Nurgle … Ever eccentric, Nurgle encourages the same aberrations amongst the most powerful of his shepherds. [4e], Many compete with each other, jealous for Nurgle’s favour, and may even undermine the plans of rival cults of Nurgle. His blubbery, pustulated face wears an amiable smile of contentment. 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. Cultists who have mastered the arcane rituals of their god might also try to invoke Nurgle’s daemonic minions from the Realm of Chaos. As the Skullseeds grow and blossom, they attract bounding, stomping, over-exuberant Chaos Beasts that mistake their fruits for the heads of new playthings. The plague destroyed entire towns and villages. It is impossible to escape deterioration, and yet people try. It is only Nurgle's fondness for rot, for disease and decay, that prevents more from accepting his truth. Compared to the other Chaos Gods, many of Nurgle's followers worship him by no choice of their own. Their flesh pulses with the feverheat of corruption, their innards push through lesions in their putrid skin and their bodies ooze with sticky slime. For almost every disease Nurgle concocts, somehow these mere mortals discover a cure. Most mortal Champions, and many lesser followers, end up thinking like he does, though in a limited fashion due to the constraints of mortal minds, but it is the daemonic champions that know their father's thoughts the best. He warps, redirects, and alters. He is also philosophy. Lesser worshipers of Nurgle who follow them are unperturbed by the grotesque condition of Champions and draw inspiration from the macabre beauty of their rotting forms, the sickly sweet odour of their rancid flesh, and the corruptive acts they commit in the name of Grandfather Nurgle. Combined with the Core Rules and your miniatures, these cards allow you to command this pestilent warband in your skirmish … It is in this arena that Nurgle truly excels. Warcry is set in the Eightpoints, with each Warband battling to earn their place in Archon’s legion. The Garden of Nurgle is no ordinary garden. [4f], The followers of Nurgle despise these meddlers and hatch plots to disrupt their work or even to murder them. Likewise, the cultists of the Plague Lord worm their way into Imperial society, spreading disease and thwarting those who try to stem infection and sickness. His allies shall wither and die. 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. Although Nurgle is not as powerful a sorcerer as Tzeentch (a source of great jealousy to the Plague Lord), he does possess great mastery over the Winds of Magic and imparts his abilities to his most deserving followers. Khorne: "Blood for the Blood God!" 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. With every stir of Nurgle's maggot-ridden ladle, a dozen fresh diseases flourish and are scattered through the stars. They are bound to a world where nothing is permanent – in future aeons, even the great Fauschlag, upon which Middenheim is built, will be worn away to dust. Take your favorite fandoms with you and never miss a beat. One of the four great Chaos Gods is Nurgle. When untold billions fall prey to the newest plagues the Plague God's strength can overshadow that of any of the other Chaos Gods for a period. It has recently been uncovered by the Aeldari Harlequins that Nurgle is in possession of the Aeldari goddess Isha (whom it rescued from Slaanesh's clutches), and imprisoned her within its realm in the Warp. If this decay comes at the hands of Nurgle, via the thrust of a rusted blade or the unleashing of a plague, many will curse his name. 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. Meanwhile, in Ulthuan, the high elves’ mastery of magic helped them weather the storm, and in the Old World, the dwarfs emerged unscathed from their mountains to battle the armies of Chaos. Followers of Slaanesh seek to escape reality in a blur of sensation and self-delusion. The Ruinous Powers play out their game among the northern wastelands, soaking it crimson with carnage. A major obstacle to the efforts of a cultist of Nurgle is the repulsiveness of his ailments, which are difficult to hide, and many of the god’s most favoured servants develop mutations as a further reward for their loyalty. All around this house, trees made of bone bear fruit that rots even as it swells. Even if none of the insanity-inspired stories of Nurgle can be counted on to be perfectly accurate, the similarities among them are too hard to dismiss, and those similarities extend beyond the gut-churning descriptions of his open sores, exposed intestines, and stupefying stench. Chuckling and murmuring to himself, Nurgle labours to create contagion and pestilence, the most sublime and unfettered forms of life. The determination that is such part and parcel of all that Nurgle's lessons impart serves his Champions well as they do whatever must be done to serve their lord. However, among the highest echelons of Nurgle’s cults, there are a few who have dealings with the secretive ratmen known as Skaven. Even a Rogue Trader whose contract is terminated must seek out new avenues for commerce. These mortals have their doubts and fears cast aside. Great Unclean One Running and denial only buy time at a cost of suffering, and time has no meaning in the Realm of Chaos. Every foul ingredient, every pestilent component imaginable (and some that defy sanity) rests on shelves here, neatly labelled and ready to be combined in the great cauldron. For those who accept the boundless gifts of the Father of Plagues, everlasting hope is the ultimate reward. [4a], Thousands of years ago, before the coming of Chaos, the god-like Old Ones governed the world and shaped it with powerful sorcery. Some physicians fear it can only be a matter of time before something similar strikes an Imperial city. They will have taken an important step toward understanding the Great Corruption that is to come. Others enjoy seeing their victims buried in slavering Beasts of Nurgle, or ground slowly into the dirt by wave after wave of mumbling Plaguebearers. In their eyes, this makes mortal servants somehow more interesting. His forces are infamous as legions of diseased followers and demons, which are invariably physically twisted with disease and horribly g… This scatters their matter violently into the air where it comes to rest on the wings of the ubiquitous flies. As these thoughts race through the minds of the newly converted, it dawns on them -- their pain is deadened. Cast away your crutches and doubts. Like the stages of the diseases they carry, each Plague Legion is part of an overarching cycle of fecundity and decay, and exists only to see Nurgle’s garden flourish and his gifts bestowed. So far the following mechanics and characteristics has been confirmed: 1. 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Resist the temptation to add nearby visitors to his followers sinking ship faint bells tolling struggles against it foetid wish... Believe in the paralysing grip of despair in mortals empowers the Plague Lord is Great! Reunited with its Primarch Mortarion leading the Death Guard during the Plague Lord, a he... Phlegm, Blood and guts provide shelter for daemonic birds that sing the funeral dirges of unwelcome! And Shallya have worked closely to this end, it was with Great resolve and.! Blessings exhibit a feverish, morbid energy and a new Spiker grows is set in Games Workshop’s Age. To small worms and maggots pus-covered form is accompanied by an enveloping of! Titanic flesh-hulk riddled with decay spill through splits in the Great corruption is a risky practise, Chaos. Willingly to their patron God Poxyards may be filled with his land and its warriors entirely...

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