nurgle 40k army

nurgle 40k army

Please take note! All else follows naturally from there. Weeping pustules ooze filth and his bowels constantly issue putrescent waste. The Necroticus Legions are the most resilient, for they use hopelessness and despair as weapons. Some even became his children because they started out life bearing some passing resemblance to him. There is nothing in all of Creation that does not decay. "I gazed at his magnificence, my vision completely filled with his glorious girth. When a child’s 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. Opens image gallery. 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. The Plague God is sometimes called the Lord of All because all things, no matter how strong and secure, fall to physical corruption and entropy in the end. 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 physical likeness of Nurgle is described as gigantic and bloated with corruption, with foul-coloured, leathery and necrotic skin. If he is pleased, he releases it upon some unsuspecting world, if not, he starts over, working at his cauldron until he has something new to give to his 'companion'. Embrace instead the glorious gifts of rot and decay. On one “side” there is decay, death, and disease. Bellies swell and distend, the flesh straining to contain bleeding entrails that push the abdomen outward. Paint continually cracks and peels away from the wood beneath, yet the house never loses it grey-green hue. 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. 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. The Plague Lord is often referred to as "Grandfather Nurgle," "Father Nurgle" or "Papa Nurgle" by its followers because of this hideous paternal stance. When a mortal dies as the result of one of Nurgle's many diseases, one of these pallid flowers opens up and emits a tinny chime to mark the success of Nurgle’s handiwork. Still, these incidents pass, written off as the eccentricities of their jolly brother. Ships in the void are particularly vulnerable to disease and many dying crews have beseeched the Lord of Decay for his intercession. The Plaguefather affords all his children many ways to explore and appreciate his realm, and even to become a part of it. 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. Nurgle is … A Plague Marine of the Death Guard Traitor Legion. Great Unclean One Perhaps the tales are correct. From these organs burst swarms of tiny Nurglings that chew on Grandfather Nurgle's rotting intestines and suck upon its bountiful, noxious juices. The question is what happens when the end comes. 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. Few escape the touch of Nurgle in their lives. Still, the Garden is near-infinite, and it is not so unbelievable that a recipient of one of Nurgle's great gifts might be blessed with a fleeting glimpse of the Plaguefather’s realm. In the case of Nurgle, their fear of death and disease is the source of its greatest power. Mortarion's warriors were ever to be found at the centre of the battle line, their strength and determination the inheritance of their Primarch, making them the unbreakable core of any Imperial army of conquest. 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. 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. In particular, the emotion of despair in mortals empowers the Plague God. It is here that he tests the efficacy of his contagions of the flesh and spirit. It seems impossible to believe that a rotund, foetid purveyor of plague and ruin could simultaneously positively beam with mirth and have such concern for the billions of souls upon whom he has inflicted his wracking and hideous poxes. To Nurgle, these alternatives are indistinguishable -- self-indulgent fantasies with no sense of greater purpose or understanding of the nature of things.

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