It is in this arena that Nurgle truly excels. 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. It is there that he keeps the cauldron where he mixes the elements that create all of his plagues and pestilences. The Daemons of Nurgle are truly putrid in their appearance and sickening to look upon. This bounty of mutated and mutilated tissue falls into new areas of the Garden beneath, decaying into compost and starting the cycle of life and death anew. Chant sung by Plaguebearer Daemons during battle Nurgle, also known as the Plague Lord or the Plague God, is the Chaos God of disease, decay, despair, death and destruction. [10a]Nurgle can also be regarded as the Lord of All, because all things, no matter how solid and permanent … Likewise, mortal champions become bloated, stinking, leaking collections of rotted flesh, exposed entrails, necrotic sores, and all manner of foulness. Meanwhile, Nurgle’s own intrigues spread slowly like a contagious fever. Within these tumbling walls, Nurgle toils. "Rot and Ruin!/Rust and Rot!/Ruin and Rust!" From the Garden of Nurgle lumber the Plague Legions, the dreaded armies of the Great Corrupter. Nurgle keeps Isha imprisoned in a rusted cage in the corner of his cauldron chamber within his personal manse. All around this house, trees made of bone bear fruit that rots even as it swells. His sacred number is seven, and his symbol incorporates a triangle of three circles representing the unending cycle of birth, suffering, and death. 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. 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 inspiration for Nurgle comes from the ancient Babylonian god Nergal. New sores and pustules appear, the foul liquids they contain becoming home to small worms and maggots. Yes, T5 is handy for CC troopers, they can take a lot more damage, and Banshees cry when they see them! As pestilence grips the world, Nurgle’s power eclipses that of his brother gods. Title(s) The plague destroyed entire towns and villages. To bend the mind toward the task of reconciling such foulness with such frivolity is to invite madness. 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. Plague-ridden, diseased and festering, Daemons of Nurgle spread terrible miasmas and rotting, fuming death across the Eightpoints in the name of their benevolent god. 02920 227 117 sales@firestormgames.co.uk Skype us!. No, most mortals who find their way into Nurgle's foetid embrace wish only for an end to some sort of suffering. In the same way, Nurgle also personifies Perseverance and Survival. Nurgle is more than form, though. Nurgle's followers draw most of their power in combat from the deadly, putrid diseases they carry and their blights given by … His sacred colours are sickly greens, yellows, and browns. 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. 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. Blessed with reshaped forms and renewed purpose, the minions of Nurgle become his instruments in the Great Corruption. While an invitation to stroll down Nurgle's pox-strewn path should be welcomed as an honour, not all see it as such. The Fecundus Legions are tasked with the making of diseases; it is they that travel across reality and unreality to gather the raw ingredients that will be added to the cauldron of their foul god, and the worst ills suffered by the mortal races can be attributed to their diligence. Every victory for his enemies is pyrrhic, coming at a cost so great that it leaves the defenders open to the tender predations of Nurgle's ever-evolving poxes. However much this petty infighting amuses Nurgle, his main obsession is to corrupt those loyal to the Empire and the Imperial gods. Your Father brings you hope in your darkest hour. Other symbols include flies, tentacles, open maws, and disgusting chalices. However, in the material dimension, the physical form of the trespassing Seers began to convulse and shake, succumbing to the very plague they hoped to overcome. These are the Plaguefather's mortal champions, and it is through their foul deeds that many of the greatest accomplishments of Nurgle's plan are achieved. 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. Contact us Monday - Sunday: 10:00am - 6:00pm (Tue, Thur & Fri until 10pm) Grand staircases decorated with moth-eaten rugs beckon to wandering souls, leading them to chambers where daemons are glad to receive new, fresh flesh. 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. 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. Slann, lizardmen, elves, and dwarfs – their first creations – are even today long-lived creatures, little affected by disease and the ravages of old age. It is in this great black crucible that the Lord of All brews the many plagues he pours into the mortal realm. Distemper!" The questions of how this is to be achieved and which lord the universe will call master are answered very differently by each of the Dark Gods. 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. The pitiful cries of afflicted men, women, and children fill him with love for this frail race – they are indeed worthy hosts for his contagions. Slowed by the sticky pulp of the splattered plants, these insects become easy prey for other flying creatures that ingest them as they soar through the rot-choked air. The Garden of Nurgle is no ordinary garden. 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. This hum drowns out the creaking of the rotten floor and the scrape of the ladle on the cauldron, so eternal in its monotony that to hear it is to invite madness. Usually, however, skaven avoid contact with the cults of Nurgle, knowing that they may be seen as rivals, not allies, and only interfere when the cults’ ambitions obstruct their own. The explosion spat gobbets of condensed Chaos matter across the globe, and these meteorites mutated life wherever they landed. It occurred several centuries ago. Nurgle’s sacred animals are the fly, the maggot, and the carrion crow, though all creatures that feast on the decayed dead or spread virulent plague are favoured in his eyes. Combined with the Core Rules and your miniatures, this set gives you everything you need to add … The once-gleaming white and grey armour was stained with filth, and the noble warriors were transformed into walking hives of death and abomination. It is only Nurgle's fondness for rot, for disease and decay, that prevents more from accepting his truth. Very little causes Nurgle's smile to dip, but Tzeentch seems to be able to provoke that reaction at will. Plague and pestilence have swept across the Old World in wave after wave since before the time of Sigmar. Still, if one were to delve into the comparative histories and galaxy-wide myths associated with Nurgle, certain commonalities would present themselves. Enter your email to get the very latest - news, promotions, hobby tips and more from Games Workshop. Twisted, rotten boughs entangled with grasping vines cover the mouldering ground, entwining like broken fingers. Some cults only recruit from among the aristocracy, others from only street scum. Perhaps the tales are correct. The Garden of Nurgle is a wondrous place filled with vitality, mirth, and experiences beyond mortal comprehension. High Elves and Wood Elves perplex him, for they are long-lived and unblemished by age, and are blessed with a natural resistance against disease. 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. For those who accept the boundless gifts of the Father of Plagues, everlasting hope is the ultimate reward. No king survives the plotting of his enemies. Sometimes the skaven make an alliance with the servants of the Lord of Decay, manipulating his followers to further their own schemes. This relationship to their god differs from that of other Daemon Princes. Bolters rust, the shells they fire are spent, and the fingers that pull their triggers wear down with the passing of time and repeated action. The Plague Lord is often referred to as "Grandfather Nurgle," "Father Nurgle" or "Papa Nurgle" by its followers because of this hideous paternal stance. With her divine powers of healing, Isha quickly regenerates from these tests, although Nurgle gleans what information is desired from the temporary effects. 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. Where subtle means of corruption are ineffective, some cults prefer direct action. Proud civilisations wither away even as Grandfather Nurgle conjures obscene new life from their remains. [4b], However, it is within the mortal world that the vital moves of the Great Game are played. For others to stand on their graves and proselytise? 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. Great Unclean Ones understand Nurgle in a way that no mortal -- not even one elevated to the rank of Daemon Prince -- ever could. Fat flies hum around his antlered head. "Suffer and despair!" As these thoughts race through the minds of the newly converted, it dawns on them -- their pain is deadened. 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. He is said to be a vast mound of rotting flesh, with open sores and gaping wounds in which his lesser minions cavort and frolic. Fight thrilling tactical skirmishes with only a handful of models in a fraction of the space taken by a traditional wargame. Running and denial only buy time at a cost of suffering, and time has no meaning in the Realm of Chaos. The power of Nurgle wanes and expands with the death and destruction that befalls man. A dehydrated test subject may see these lakes and, believing salvation is at hand, drink deeply of the cool waters. Rival God Here he might find trees made of nothing but the flesh of Aeldari, constantly oozing the tears of a dying race. Chaos Reward Cards: 0+ Note that the Nurgle Fleet's flagship does not receive a free Chaos Reward card. Tzeentch surely has his own plans for what a twisted reality reshaped in his image would look like, but he has not shared what that might be. His sickening, pus-covered form is accompanied by an enveloping cloud of buzzing flies. Decay is unavoidable. Soon, the entire Legion was beset by a sickness that bloated their bellies with corpse gas, caused flesh to slough from their bodies and made these strongest and toughest of warriors into crippled wretches assailed by delirium. The emissary of the Hierarchs stared in mute horror as hundreds of infected Jiralhanae rushed forward on tumor ravaged legs. He welcomes the resistance of those who attempt to deny him, for each time they erect defences against his advances, he learns new ways to circumvent the opposition. In truth, Nurgle could simply sit back and wait for the universe to unfold according to his design. 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. Their choice is simple – perish in excruciating agony or invoke the name of the Lord of Decay. By subscribing you confirm that you are over the age of 16 or have consent from your parent or guardian to subscribe. Those who do differentiate themselves invariably exemplify the precepts of Nurgle's philosophy and emulate his grand and corrupted form at a level that leaves no doubt as to which of the Ruinous Powers has claimed their souls. Putrid browns and bilious greens Rotten floorboards send many to a doom of slow consumption by the carrion feeders that dwell in the lower levels. Kulvain Hestarius of the Death Guard The Death Guard are one of the Traitor Legions of Chaos Space Marines. Infected captives can be sent running into the daemon-plants, chased by Chaos Beasts. Nurgle is the Great Lord of Decay and the Master of Plague and Pestilence. Countless trillions are host to its malignant, invisible creations, which corrupt their physical forms and sow despair in their minds. In particular, the emotion of despair in mortals empowers the Plague God. 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. They greatly desired to enter the realm of mortals and feast on the fears of the fragile creatures that dwelt there. Warhammer Age of Sigmar Grand Alliance Chaos Maggotkin of Nurgle Battletome Book Out of stock Funko DC Arkham Mystery Minis Batman 2.5-Inch … Both the mortal plane and the Realm of Chaos have ever been on a path of decay, and from decay come death and endings. In this attic are jars containing the viscera of plague victims from across time and space. However, mankind was created at the cusp of the disaster and was not only imperfectly formed but subject to the full corrupting power of Chaos. 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. Claimed at last, the Seers' feet took root as their faces hardened into bark. The nascent race of mankind was corrupted, many twisted into vile beastmen. 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. This scatters their matter violently into the air where it comes to rest on the wings of the ubiquitous flies. He experiences what needs to be experienced. Nurgle’s leprous daemons stalk the garden, quick to necrotise the flesh of intruders with their plagueswords. His blubbery, pustulated face wears an amiable smile of contentment. 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...". Nurgle is often illustrated with hordes of tiny daemons bursting forth from his pustules and suckling upon foulness. The leafless boughs of these ancient trees provide shelter for daemonic birds that sing the funeral dirges of any unwelcome visitor. They are nearer to their god than any mortal, and more closely involved in his plans than any Plaguebearer or other daemonic servant. 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. Each inevitable ending brings with it an equally certain start to something new. 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. The skeletons of some ruined villages long claimed by the forests surely still remain undiscovered, where entire populations were stricken by the plague. Souls are trapped within apparently simple glass containers, left to slowly dim and fade as maladies of the spirit waste them to the bone. The nurgling infestation disappeared as quickly as it had come. Yet in contrast to their hideous appearance, Nurgle's daemons are cheerful, energetic beings that show a disturbingly friendly demeanour.
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