Yet his enthusiastic humour subtly undermines the plotting and politicking of the other Chaos gods – it drives Khorne to an unthinking fury, disturbs Tzeentch’s insidious train of thought, and distracts Slaanesh from his scheming. The Rot Flies of that realm buzzed loud in alarm, however, and whispered of the intruders into Nurgle's ear. There will come a time when they collapse entirely and the universe will begin a massive transformation. He experiences what needs to be experienced. 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. Records of the many sentient races of the galaxy often say that Nurgle corrupts, that he brings ruination to all. 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. But this coin is illusory; there is no divide between its two faces, no beginning and no end. No king survives the plotting of his enemies. The ringing is incessant. Plaguebearers toss organs from the bodies of disease victims into sorting pools, making it easier for them to count the numbers that have died from each ailment. Life within the Screaming Vortex beyond the Calixis Sector, or for that matter anywhere else in the unfeeling galaxy, is harsh, miserable, and full of pain and suffering. Nurgle is unlike the other Ruinous Powers in many ways, including how he views his domain within the Realm of Chaos. 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. 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. When Nurgle entered the world, he found it ripe with fecundity. Nurgle is the embodiment of disease, decay and the death these states ultimately bring to all living things. 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. While the Plaguefather is busy at his cauldron, Isha accepts her lot stoically, and fights back against the Plague God's evil in the same way she once fought against Khaine, whispering the cures to these new diseases into the universe so that mortals might know them and resist the hideous designs of Grandfather Nurgle. He beams with excitement as he mixes strains of pox and fever to create a poisonous stew of pestilence, for although every known disease infects his monstrous body, he is obsessed with creating new ailments. They see their daemonic followers, even their Champions, as never having had a choice but to do as they are commanded. As a skirmish wargame, players pit small warbands of warriors against each other in brutal combat. Of course, all cultists must act surreptitiously, for the agents of the Emperor, of Sigmar, and the other gods of mankind are always on the alert to eliminate the followers of Chaos. After the XIV Legion was reunited with its Primarch Mortarion on the Feral World of Barbarus, he renamed the Legion the Death Guard. Weeping pustules ooze filth and his bowels constantly issue putrescent waste. As they do with so much else as a result of Nurgle's teachings, they accept their lot. For those who accept the boundless gifts of the Father of Plagues, everlasting hope is the ultimate reward. "Indeed the very process of construction and creation foreshadows destruction and decay. Nurgle, obsessed with his ceaseless foetid experiments, seems to care little about the Great Game, and when he meets to parley with his brothers at the infernal Court of Covenant, he is always portrayed as a talkative buffoon. No histories of this time exist among men, for all mankind was a race of savage brutes. No civilisation forever endures the machinations of its rivals. Slaanesh vanquished her as he had all of the other Aeldari Gods within the Warp, but only took her prisoner rather than absorbing her energies outright. It occurred several centuries ago. It is only Nurgle's fondness for rot, for disease and decay, that prevents more from accepting his truth. Interplanetary traffic ensures that contagious diseases are carried from world to world by the ignorant, the wilful and the strong. A Plague Marine of the Death Guard Traitor Legion. Within his bulk I spied lesser minions, suckling on his leaking entrails. Shutters cling just barely to window frames only half filled with broken panes of filth covered glass. There they dangle and rot, slowly dying but never quite finding release. The Tallybands can vary in size, swelling to epidemic proportions as Nurgle's power waxes in the Realm of Chaos or contracting into small, elite warbands when it wanes. Whereas other gods within the Realm of Chaos are associated with dozens, even hundreds, of depictions, there are far fewer variations on the appearance of the Plaguefather. If the concoction does not meet with Nurgle's approval, he gulps down the contents of the cauldron, vomits it back into the pot and starts afresh. Infected captives can be sent running into the daemon-plants, chased by Chaos Beasts. Although Nurgle’s Chaos warriors and champions are not as bloodthirsty as those of Khorne, or as cunning or agile as those of Tzeentch and Slaanesh, they are highly resilient fighters – it is difficult to kill someone whose diseased flesh shrugs off pain. [1f][2a][2c], Out of all the Dark Gods, Nurgle is perhaps the least worshipped amongst the tribes of the North. And when the Great Corruption has settled over the land, and permeated the very foundations of reality itself, then shall the Lord of All rise from the rot and ruin, spread his arms wide to reclaim all his dutiful children...". You can unsubscribe at any time. Their flesh pulses with the feverheat of corruption, their innards push through lesions in their putrid skin and their bodies ooze with sticky slime. 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. Those who turn to him for aid are not seeking to make their dreams become reality, to strike down those who stand in opposition, or to be adored by all who know them. When he is satisfied by his efforts, he pours the concoction into the grate below, and chortles with happiness as he watches the nauseating plagues rain down upon the world. 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. Many of those affected by Nurgle's poxes usually turn to it in order to escape the pain and sheer despair caused by sickness and disease. 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. That which Tzeentch creates and evolves to undreamed of heights of complexity and insane perfection, Nurgle's servants gnaw away at, seeking to bring the entire edifice toppling down so that new growth can emerge from the fecund grave. To face the dawn is to await the dusk and, in turn, to endure the night. It can be difficult for a mortal to accept that the rotting of a limb or the expulsion of his entrails is a blessing. If all things decay, each moment is a gift. The physical likeness of Nurgle is described as gigantic and bloated with corruption, with foul-coloured, leathery and necrotic skin. Some of these likely only exist in the nightmare visions and untrustworthy hallucinations of disease-ravaged minds. This makes theirs a life worth living, despite, and because of, the gifts of their caring master. However much this petty infighting amuses Nurgle, his main obsession is to corrupt those loyal to the Empire and the Imperial gods. The most famous and most severe outbreak was known as the Black Plague. 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. Complete Silence (Death Guard) The most common chant, from Nurgle daemons, is listing the assorted plagues in existence. Champions of Nurgle can become among the most powerful Chaos servants in the galaxy, though they will also be afflicted with some of the most all-encompassing, and disgusting, physical mutations that Chaos can bestow. Each chants sonorously, keeping count of the diseases created, the mischievous Nurglings that have hatched, and the souls claimed by the Lord of Decay's putrid blessings. They view these daemons more as slaves to darkness than co-conspirators with it. Most civilised folk hide from this facâ¦ The citizens of the Imperium know full well that their lives will end one day and that many of their number will live with disease or other torments in the meantime, yet they drive this knowledge deep into the corners of their minds and bury it with dreams and ceaseless activity. Foul cyclopean creatures shouting their tally of plagues and malignity struggled to keep pace with their allies. Man O' War cards are not available to the Nurgle â¦ 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. The Aeldari believe that when Slaanesh the Lord of Pleasure awoke in the early 30th Millennium, their gods were destroyed outright. Such is the fate of those who enter uninvited into the heartlands of Nurgle, for even the generosity of the Grandfather of Plagues has its limit. Men live and die, and for what? Summon a disgusting rabble of trundling Daemons of Nurgle to infest the wasteland. One particularly nasty option is the Horn of Nurgleâs Rot, which has an ability that allows you to bolster nearby units of Plaguebearers as you carve through the enemy. 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. It was a blessing to behold such glory and joy. In the Realm of Chaos, daemonic armies loyal to each Ruinous Power clash in unending battle at the borders of their territories. Nurgle is one of the Four Great Powers of Chaos.He is titled the Great Lord of Decay and represents pestilence, disease, and physical corruption. Perhaps it is not a garden at all, but the mortal minds that contemplate the manifested will of the Lord of Decay must attempt to make some sort of sense out of what they have seen or heard about in whispered tales. The power of Nurgle waxes and wanes as its pandemics sweep across the galaxy. Each wishes to overthrow the existing order and claim dominion over both the Realm of Chaos and the mortal world. 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. Decay is simply one part of the cycle of life, without which no new life could grow. The followers of Nurgle often pit themselves against those of Tzeentch in complex political intrigues in the mortal realm, forever attempting to mire his schemes for change in dull-minded conservatism and parochial self-interest. However, among the highest echelons of Nurgle’s cults, there are a few who have dealings with the secretive ratmen known as Skaven. Nurgle is the Chaos God most directly involved with the plights of mortals, particularly humans who suffer so acutely from a fear of death, perhaps the oldest fear of that species, or any other. Khorne’s reckless urge to destroy upsets him, for Nurgle has a patient and nurturing heart. Depending upon the predilections of its leader, and the ebb and flow of the cycle, a Tallyband may also include Beasts of Nurgle or swarms of Nurglings, although such anarchic beasts rarely remain with the formation beyond the duration of a single battle. Still, even the Plaguebearers accept their place in the Garden and spend their eternity enjoying all it offers in their own way. This scatters their matter violently into the air where it comes to rest on the wings of the ubiquitous flies. They must also believe in the equal certainty of rebirth. [4e], Favourite recruiting grounds for cultists of Nurgle include hospices, leper colonies, and filthy slums – anywhere that the diseased congregate. Their bodies are hives of filth and decay, their flesh eternally rotting away even as it is renewed by the ceaseless process of death and rebirth. Though Nurgle's realm will eventually recede again, it will have fed deeply on the fallen, and will lie in gestate peace until it is ready to swell throughout time and space once more. The skeletons of some ruined villages long claimed by the forests surely still remain undiscovered, where entire populations were stricken by the plague. 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. A dehydrated test subject may see these lakes and, believing salvation is at hand, drink deeply of the cool waters. The air resonates with the drone of flies and is heavy with choking spores from slimy, misshaped fungi. Rather than anger, it is joy that springs from this knowledge. [10a]Nurgle can also be regarded as the Lord of All, because all things, no matter how solid and permanent â¦ Let the galaxy burn!" The blessings of the four main Chaos Gods are represented in the game via Marks of Chaos. Where is the reward in that? Resistance is self-defeating. Of all the races, humans intrigue Nurgle the most. Despite its consistent generosity, only an enlightened few truly embrace Nurgle's greatness among men and aliens. When the Horus Heresy plunged the galaxy into civil war, the warriors of the Death Guard found themselves becalmed in the Warp and assailed by Warp-born plagues so virulent that not even their legendary resilience could withstand them. 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. Perhaps they are not. Where his brother gods each envision a destination at the end of the path, Nurgle knows that the journey turns ever back upon itself in a loop, leading to rebirth, revitalisation, and new beginnings. Lexicanum is a fan-made encyclopedia based on the successful online database Wikipedia and is about the tabletop game Warhammer 40,000 produced by Games Workshop.Each of you has the possibility to take part - everybody is free to write, correct and enhance articles. Bellies swell and distend, the flesh straining to contain bleeding entrails that push the abdomen outward. Once a Champion of Nurgle has the scent of his foe, no amount of stink can throw him off. The Chaos Gods represent fundamental aspects of our nature and draw power from the emotions of mortals. Likewise, mortal champions become bloated, stinking, leaking collections of rotted flesh, exposed entrails, necrotic sores, and all manner of foulness. At first, their astrally-projected forms appeared to be able to pass through the grasping foliage of Nurgle's garden with ease. Upon the decay of the living untold numbers of bacteria, viruses, insects and other carrion-feeders thrive. 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. Kulvain Hestarius of the Death Guard The Death Guard are one of the Traitor Legions of Chaos Space Marines. On a 2+, until the end of the Battle round, that fighter can't make a move action or disengage action. Condemned to a deathless state of decay, the Death Guard would spread their pestilent diseases the length and breadth of the galaxy for the greater glory of Chaos. 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. Thus, many senior cultists of Nurgle are forced to hide themselves away, and use newly initiated members less afflicted by decay to perform tasks among the public.[4e]. 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. Hope arrives. Portrayed in hymns and myths as a god of war and pestilence, Nergal seems to represent the sun of noontime and of the summer solstice that brings destruction, as high summer was the dead season in the Mesopotamian annual cycle. 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. Other cultists secretly infect water supplies or food stores, or simply wander among the crowded city streets passing their illnesses to everyone they meet. Their grey and unadorned Power Armour began to carry the symbols of rank and decoration, now modified, that once formed the armorial imagery of the Ironsides of Old Albia, a nation of techno-barbarians on Old Earth before the Unification Wars, and most tellingly their right vambraces, gauntlets and shoulder plates were painted the deep crimson of drying blood, now symbolising the red right hand of the Emperor's justice. The Infecticus Legions are the harbingers of infection, the carriers of new diseases that lay the groundwork for the greater virulence to follow. The Plague Lord is often referred to as "Grandfather Nurgle," "Father Nurgle" or "Papa Nurgle" by its followers because of this hideous paternal stance. There is no telling what wonders await around each bend in the paths that stretch and wind throughout the Garden, but any who encounter them will surely have their sanity tested and questioned, should they survive to share the tale. 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. The soupy air of the garden seeped into their lungs, worm-riddled mud spattered up their legs, and white-bodied daemonflies clambered into their mouths. His paunch, swollen with corpse-gas, spills stinking organs, and a legion of daemonic mites play among his entrails and suckle the discharge streaming from his sores. Those who dabble in the sorcery of the Lord of Decay can inflict disease and pestilence by magical means, and do so to blight and cripple their enemies, as well as to reward their followers with fresh ailments. For others to stand on their graves and proselytise? His desperation to save himself and his Legion called forth Nurgle, and Mortarion became his greatest Champion. The Plaguefather loves to hear stories of the realms beyond his own. Very little causes Nurgle's smile to dip, but Tzeentch seems to be able to provoke that reaction at will. Perhaps the most famous Indian battle cry comes from the Lakota Sioux. "His enemies shall wither and die. However, he reserves most of his ire towards Tzeentch, who represents constant, fluid motion and instant change, whereas Nurgle delights in gradual maturity and the musty scent of stagnation. Truly, Nurgle embodies the nature of all things, and thus earns his honorific as the Lord of All. When the universe dies and then rises again, it is one of the greatest hopes of the Lord of All that like the Corpse God of Man, Tzeentch will not be reborn with it. Worshipers of Khorne must push toward ever-greater levels of destruction and carnage despite the risks to themselves or even to their allies. 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. In the Chaos Wastes, savage men worship Grandfather Nurgle as a deliverer from the very diseases he inflicts upon them, for he grants loyal followers freedom from the suffering of their afflictions. Change is a delay, nothing more. Nurgle is the mighty Lord of Decay who presides over all physical corruption and morbidity in Creation. Ajoutez les Démons Maggotkin of Nurgle à vos parties de Warcry Maîtrisez des tactiques nouvelles et des aptitudes mortelles Contient les règles des Nurglings, Plaguebearers, Beasts of Nurgle et â¦ Many of these Loyalist Death Guard Astartes were Terran-born, former Dusk Raiders like Battle-Captain Nathaniel Garro of the Death Guard's 7th Great Company whose loyalty to the Emperor outweighed their devotion to their Primarch. 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. Unlike the minions of the other Gods of Chaos, Champions of Nurgle do not hesitate to pursue enemies into the most dank, disgusting, and polluted places. 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. Their choice is simple – perish in excruciating agony or invoke the name of the Lord of Decay. Some say all diseases are spread by ginger cats. Of the four Chaos Gods he is said to be the most attentive and involved with the plight of mortals. 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. The leafless boughs of these ancient trees provide shelter for daemonic birds that sing the funeral dirges of any unwelcome visitor. Reeds rattle, whispering the names of the poxes inflicted upon the worlds of mortals by Great Nurgle or lamenting those that have died from the caress of their creator. Those who walk with Nurgle and aid him in bringing about the Great Corruption, as Nurgle calls it, do so with joy in their hearts. His followers do not normally use a battle cry, instead muttering about "the plans" during battle. The Garden of Nurgle is an ever-changing realm, shifting according to the needs and whims of its master. If the visitor walked past the stairs and pushed deeper into the mansion, he might stumble upon the kitchens and larders of the Plaguefatherâs home. Nasty Rash! Nurgle is the answer to that question. Title(s) The Crumbling Ague swept through the city, causing great loss of life, but the cult discovered that the priests of Shallya were close to finding a cure. For almost every disease Nurgle concocts, somehow these mere mortals discover a cure. [4i], The cults of Verena and Shallya have worked closely to this purpose, attempting to discover new cures and techniques. They are jovial in their work and show great pride in their accomplishments, interpreting the groans of the afflicted as expressions of gratitude justly won by their efforts. These Asuryani believe their legends to be absolute truth and even aspire to one day free their goddess from Nurgle's unctuous grasp. Nurgle and Tzeentch are in many ways opposed, for at the heart of the matter the Changer of Ways seeks to build ever more complex and improbable webs of power, while Nurgle embodies continuous growth, destruction, and renewal. They were sorely affected not just by mutation but also by Nurgle’s meddling with the natural order of things. Few who pledge themselves to Nurgle do so in the belief that he offers an easy path to power and glory. [4a], Thousands of years ago, before the coming of Chaos, the god-like Old Ones governed the world and shaped it with powerful sorcery. Many folk blame such warlocks and witches when crops fail, famine strikes the land, or when epidemics ravage entire regions, leaving rotting corpses in their wake. Decay is the victor in all battles, the opposition to which there is no resistance. 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. Chosen, they don't get FNP just the Mark O' Nurgle (+1 T). 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. The magic of the slann could not save them from the Plague Lord’s diseases, and they too withered, croaking feebly as their flesh erupted with foul, cankerous lesions. Sometimes he offers these unfortunates the chance to improve their position by spitting the worms from their mouths and sharing tales of their worlds with him. They admonish their listeners that to turn from their faith is to join the ranks of the Lost and the Damned. This also causes some that would have otherwise never been infected to seek out disease and even poison themselves to earn his favour. The Death Guard are a Traitor Legion entirely steeped in the power of Nurgle, the God of Plagues, their very essence the epitome of all that vile Chaos God stands for. For millennia, the Old Ones kept this peril at bay with runic wards, but one day their defences shattered, the gateway collapsed, and raw Chaos poured into reality. Of buzzing flies greens, yellows, and how they are outnumbered, they are nearer their... 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