#1 Edited by Kastiel (8919 posts) - - Show Bio

Three months after the attack the Symaarian Imperium all but recovered from the infested boil that plagues a small section of Ferravius. There was nothing one could do but wait it out. Both sides of the fray were licking their wounds; some more than others. The new Warsman recovered in less than half of the time than his counterpart Kastiel Roxom.  He was less fortunate. Sure he still had his possession of power, stopped the Great Plagues of Nurgle, but he was stuck in comatose state constantly being operated. Half of his body was now being made to metal. In less time he already started to resemble his father. Only one half of his body to go and his entire body would be converted to cybernetics. What Kaligar managed to do to his body in ten thousand years was something Kastiel might do in a year. One of the few things he did not want to usurp his father in but it just might happen nonetheless.   
Over the past few weeks the Lord-General of the Symaarian Imperium finally was showing signs of recovery. His body has been showing heavy resistance to the treatment. In truth he didn't want it and he knew it would happen immediately after what was left of his body had been found. The muscle spasms on his body showed his conscience was trying to bring itself back to life. If he truly knew what pain he was in, he wouldn't make the stupid move of forcing life back into him so soon. Symaarian politics would keep him in a great possession of power. He still ruled like a emperor even with his eyes shut. The Symaarians as a whole have great confidence in their new leader after the old Kaligar Roxom stepped down in retirement on Earth. They saw Kastiel's selflessness first hand on Ferravius. This was usually frowned upon on Symaarian ethics. The only exception to rule is if it granted a military win and luckily it did.  
On the third consecutive day it came to the point Kastiel had to be placed in metallic restraints. He started mumbling about his birthright and how it was stolen from him. Kastiel didn't stop there, he talked about how nothing came easy to him even when he was born. It was a job for him to stay alive. The more he thought about his life the more angry he would become. "My birthright...." His words were starting to become more clearer. It was as if he was reliving his fight with Warsman for the past three months over and over again. "My birthright...." He had to bring honor to himself and family. That included Azrael and Serenity. Both daemons in their own right but they were still family and he still cared for them despite his outward actions toward the former. The thought of Warsman defeating him sickened him with rage that would make the Blood God smile, "MY BIRTHRIGHT!" Kastiel was an extremely feral state. The pain from the surgery didn't help either or the fact they had just finished the operation.  His claws pierced right through his knuckles even with newly attached arm. He lashed out at the closest thing near him but the restraints gave him little movement. This was common among some Symaarians who still felt the adrenaline of battle. He roared as he searched for the power to break out of his bonds.  
The instant he did, he didn't waste time attacking. Ever since this became the norm most Symaarian doctors operated behind the safety of a dense metal wall while robots were their eyes and hands. Blood was replaced with oil and spewed everywhere. There was something wrong with Kastiel's mind. He purposely wouldn't do this and the psyker arriving knew all to well. Psykers were mutants to the Symaarians or any species on their side of space who drew their powers from the Warp. This particular one was female and her occupation was that of a religious officer. Some would call her a priestess but she often says otherwise. "Seems like Kas has gotten himself into some trouble again hasn't he? Sometimes I wonder how I put up with him." Her words were meant to have some sting toward him but she had already forgotten he probably didn't understand a thing she said. Her status was that of a high one and could rival Kastiel's if need be. Problem was the two were lovers and have been for a long time. Two powerful people sleeping together was probably not the smartest thing. Too bad they obviously didn't care. Her level of psychic mastery was that of an Alpha. She has the power to turn an army onto itself in blood lust, but she herself would much rather see a good fight.  
With just a glance Kastiel's body was slammed against the wall. In a more civilized state Kastiel could resist her power for some time before succumbing to her. The Chaos inflicted inside him stood no chance to have a hold on his mind while she was there. "Abusing me is a little much don't ya think? All you really had to do was lift an eyebrow and it would've been over with. What happened to innocent little girl a couple thousands of years ago? Now you're worse than my stepmother if there is such a thing." Cassandra didn't know if that was a compliment or an insult. Thinking the latter would probably have her battling a daemon soon. "Happy thoughts....happy thoughts. Oh f^#* it." She slapped Kastiel on the back of his head and carried on her merry way. "That was for blowing half your freaking body the first day you get the job, ork." That was her way of gratitude for him staying alive. That kind of attitude made Kastiel's heart melt. She didn't take sh!t from anybody and only showed her caring nature behind closed doors. That was good enough for him.  
Hours later he returned back home. Recovery was going to have to happen as fast as possible. Surely Kastiel Roxom could handle a day without fighting. Right?.... Right?

#2 Posted by ThisIsGonnaHurt (30177 posts) - - Show Bio

The maggots squirmed, resting in their nests peacefully, while their fly cousins swarmed around every head in the decrepit battle barge. Pain and misery would be the first words to come to mind when a sane person would dare a glance upon the quiet, shuffling crew as they went about their moldy business covered in broken blisters and soaked in pus. But they sang. Along with the Nurglings, impish and ugly, and the Plaguebearers, dwarfish and misshapen, they sang. "Praise Nurgle!" "Grandfather Nurgle has blessed us!" were the usual lines to their sickening symphony, but sometimes louder thanksgivings became audible as someone - gargling on bile and blood - would shout from the cacophony to show appreciation to their lord and master, the one who organized them under the Seven Plagues of Nurgle.  
True, this was not the Warsman many had come to know as Kaligar Roxom. This was not the Hero of Ferravius, the Dead Worlds Crusader, or the Chapter Master of the Death Company. It would be a calm day in the Warp before he could be compared to the heroism of Kaligar Roxom. Instead, he settled on using the name "Warsman" as a mechanism of fear where Kaligar used it as a tool to inspire hope. This new monstrosity plotted the ultimate downfall of the Symaarian Imperium with the greatest weapons Chaos could muster. Where Khorne was concerned, blood and skulls was all that mattered. Once they hit something they could not surpass, they would slowly turn on each other to sate their blood-greed. Tzeentch followed in much the same way, but it was the ambition of the sorcerers that ate at them from within. One would try to overcome the others, make them his puppets, and a civil war would result in all of their flesh consumed into dust. Grandfather Nurgle was far more gracious to his hosts. He provided them with the single most potent force in the galaxy: the power to decay. The followers of Nurgle could undo most of what the others left behind or could not conquer. Their very presence whispered of a slow death from within.  
The same could be said for Ferravius. Such an indomitable force in the galaxy, this particular fortress-world, and yet their numbers would have been wholly depleted if outside forces had not interfered. Nurgle's Rot had worked its way into the bodies of even Lord-General Kastiel and his retinue. Kastiel had to have emergency cybernetic surgery in order to even have a chance of surviving the effects of the incurable plague. His bodyguards were not as fortunate. They were isolated, as were the rest of the cases, and died in quarantine, loyal to Kastiel until their dying breath. After that, their souls belonged to Nurgle.   
---The Maggotking, unknown time, the Warp---
Warsman felt the presence of thousands of new Plaguebearer and Nurgling daemons aboard the Maggotking, the battle barge upon which all of this madness occurred. His crew had grown restless in their three month absence from the battlefield, but trusted Warsman's guidance like hunting dogs to their master. He had plotted with his cabal of necromancers and Warp-seers, scheduling strikes on dozens of worlds in order to spread the defense of the Ferravian Ring thin. He guided his hand across the maps, marking some for complete destruction and others for the "farming" strategy he often employed. All the while, he felt Kastiel's presence in the Warp grow stronger. He was growing more accustomed to the idea of Chaos spreading through him. Although it was unfortunate to have him be drawn closer to the idiot Khorne, it was still a beautiful thing to watch such a young and arrogant soul be slowly corrupted and sickened.  
---The Maggotking, 1200 hours, real space---
The croaking of the Nurglings was likened to that of a diseased cow vomiting its latest attempt at nourishment. They knew that they drew closer to their first target. The Dead Worlds sector was renowned for its relative lack of order. It was a solid contingent of hive worlds, each supporting billions of people. Ferravius and the other worlds of the Ring were hard at work establishing order in this self-destructive sector of space and now the chaos would be ripe. Warsman and the disciples of Nurgle would turn that fresh fruit of disorder into wet compost. As the Maggotking hovered over the hive world called Sabbath, acidic rained down on its surface from the battle barge's bile spewers. The air turned brown, black in some places, with the palpable taste and smell of ancient corpses wet with mildew. Before the first of Warsman's soldiers even set foot on Sabbath, hundreds had succumbed to disease and thousand more were sick within the cramped colony spires. The home to billions would become the site for the first major battle of this new, disgusting war. The proving grounds for Kastiel as Lord-General of the Symaarian military had opened. He would be hard-pressed to keep them in his favor. 

#3 Posted by Kastiel (8919 posts) - - Show Bio

Kastiel was in deep thought down in his chambers. When he was a little boy he prayed to the Holy Navigator to get the opportunity to fight Khorne and not to even meet Nurgle. He thought Nurgle was the worst of the Chaos Gods. In a military battle against him one could not simply punch Nurgle's followers like Khorne, Tzeentch, or Slaanesh. Nurgle was the most difficult. One could only attack from a distance. He learned that the hard way three months ago. Nurgle's Rot was very hellish on it's own. He could hear Nurgle in his mind telling him to give in and the pain would go away. The pain of death and disease would be a thing of the past. Kastiel said no without thinking about time and time again. Now Khorne was a different story for another time if the Symaarians were still alive. While in solitude he ordered many of servants to bring ancient books on the Chaos of Disease, the newer ones were not something he was after. Kastiel believed they wouldn't be as accurate. Ancient Symaarian text was a headache. His ancestors weren't famous for basic forms of communication. From what he could make out and the notes from scribes of the Navigator barely told anything he didn't already know. "Yeah, yeah attack from a distance that way we don't become walking bags of puss. Reminds me that I'll need a heavy artillery and billions of snipers." Kastiel gave a sigh of misery. There was one obscure lead to go on. One not anybody would expect. 
The story of the Eldar Goddess Isha gave him hope. The Goddess of fertility, growth, and life. His eyes closely followed the text, "Says here that she is kept caged in his workshop where she is a test subject for all the diseases he creates. The longer it takes her to heal the more effective the disease...." Nothing was going for him but something could be going for Warsman. His enemy probably recovered a day after the battle. He had longer to plan than Kastiel, immeasurable amount of forces, and damn hard to kill.   
---The Aleria, 1210 hours, real space--- 
Captains, guardsmen, and various generals flooded the dreadnought hovering good hundred miles from Sabbath. From their position they could see Warsman's fleet and his onslaught. Cassandra was by his side for she was needed for something very crucial. If Kastiel could turn the tide, she was needed to close and secure any type of Warp travel. "Warsman wants to start the fight first? Then he is going to stay here. He's not going back to the Warp, Chaos, or the @ss of Nurgle. He'll have to deal with one of the most powerful psykers of the Symaarian Imperium first. Plus her back up. I'd say we have this under control." Kastiel's youth and arrogance returned to him. It was as if he wasn't afflicted with Chaos at all. Maybe it was because of his companionship to Cassandra. He only hoped that wouldn't make her a target of Warsman. "Hoping is only wishing."  
Meanwhile on the battlefield Nurgle's forces were being held back so far in the battle. The Symaarians knew as militaristic government that the civilians knew when and how to get to a safe haven. A body count would be performed after the fact not before. Kastiel's artillery was showing precise marksmanship against the Plaguebearers. One explosion after another and another. The Nurglings were far more difficult. It took two snipers for each Nurgling. They were tricky little buggers that Kastiel also deployed a few infantrymen for. Expendable clones who by the end of day will only have more than half of their number gone. "What's your next move, Warsman? I'm waiting." 

#4 Posted by Castigator_Regus (8 posts) - - Show Bio

Regus stood next to Lord Kastiel, his relic blade glowing maliciously as the Guardsmen and women marched and funneled out of the carriers to join the fight only meters in front of them. The Commissars howled orders, threatening to blow out the brains of whoever failed them, and the noise of lasfire guided Regus's attention for a split second before it returned to directly in front of him. The hordes of Nurgle were never known for their complexion. In fact, this was one of the handsomer gatherings the Castigator had seen. At least there were no Great Unclean Ones to sully this day with their daemonic filth. Lord Kastiel wove his leadership like a fine silk and every thread was strong with hope and determination. He was one of the better Lord Generals Regus remembered his family serving. Some used the military power for their own gains, conquering planets to garner nothing but medals and points to their name. Others were simply cowards who barked orders from fortress-worlds light years away. 
Lord Kastiel stood on the front lines, shouting into the appropriate vox channel when an idea hit him. Moments later, artillery rained down on the enemy's charging mass and a fine green mist rose from the clump of bodies. Needless to say, killing a few to heal the rest with their insides was an odd situation. But Nurgle worked in stranger ways than the other Dark Gods. The Castigator deflected a sniper round from Lord Kastiel's neck with his hand to distract himself from his thoughts. It was solid ammunition, but the taint of Chaos was still evident. He applied the proper purification rites and the rusty bullet evaporated into sterilized dust. Regus then borrowed Lord Kastiel's bolt pistol for a moment, nodding his head in an apology, and took off the Nurgle cultist's head with a single flex of the trigger. He promptly returned the pistol to Lord Kastiel's holster and waited again. The Guardsmen were hooking their bayonets to their lasguns and Regus removed his relic blade from the ground.  
He measured thirty feet in all directions from where Lord Kastiel stood, mentally marked his boundaries, and patiently watched as the daemons approached. They broke through the ranks of the Guardsmen, but the psyker woman named Cassandra - Navigator knows where she came from - managed to shield away the effects of the Rot for the moment. The daemons were confused at first, since the boils they had grown accustomed to causing refused to surface. The Guardsmen fought a frantic melee and cast the bodies out in the open where flamers would meet them with clouds of heat and fire.  
---Hive World Sabbath, 1400 hours, real space--- 
"Lord Kastiel, the Guard losses number 12%. I think that's a new record for your honored leadership. Thanks to the psyker Cassandra, the wounded are being treated with no ill effects. According to the astropaths, the Nurgle fleet is still in orbit. They apparently have no plans of retreating." 
Regus stood there, his armor stained with the blood of Nurgle cultists and of the heavier Plague Marines that had somehow gotten past the thick mass of Guardsmen and thought it a good idea to attack the Lord-General while the Castigator was around. His relic blade still glowed hot, a sort of inanimate satisfaction gleaming in its fine details. 
"I regret to inform you that civilian losses on this world number more than 40%. Most have turned to the worship of Nurgle while others, bless their souls, have been strung on gibbets as demonstration to loyalists in the sector. If this violation of the Navigator's will continues, I should hope that you know that Sector Sabbath will start to feel the effects of a civil war. I will continue with you as you wish."

#5 Posted by ThisIsGonnaHurt (30177 posts) - - Show Bio

---6,000 years ago, Sector Sabbath, during the Dead Worlds Crusade--- 
The Great Unclean One stalked the planet Sabbath, scouring it of life with his touch. It seemed that nothing could stop him as he gained size and momentum from the multitude of plagues sprouting from his diseased flesh. Maggots oozed as easily as blood from an open sore. Acidic pus seeped from his intestines, which hung out of his bulbous gut and reeked of death. His name was Zenobiar, and he gave a mighty cackle to the heavens, mocking the Navigator as the Guardsmen fled before him. Only one dared to brave the sickness. He was Kaligar Roxom. As their blades met, only one prevailed and Zenobiar was banished into the Warp for all eternity. 
Or at least until Nurgle managed to break the spell. 
---4,000 years later, Sector Sabbath, real space--- 
Warsman watched as his forces were depleted. Kastiel was an admirable opponent, almost as great as his father. But Warsman thirsted for vengeance. He would not have Kaligar's son defeat him, not after all he had accomplished in this game of theirs. 4,000 years of plotting, planning, and all of it was now focused solely on the son of his past life's greatest foe. Warsman sat silent, thinking ahead. He would send the daemons against the Symaarian Guard on Sabbath once more, but he would incite the already rising rebellions on other planets to acts of heresy and cultism. He sent the daemons to help in the uprisings, to send word that Nurgle was coming. True, Warsman was only a few hundred sacrifices away from summoning the Great Unclean Ones... 
---Sector Sabbath, Adrastos, real space--- 
"Get me in contact with Lord Kastiel right away!" Colonel Sparks shouted over the noise of lasfire.  
He and the remaining Guardsmen had made a respectable hillside fortress outside the city of Andros. There were thousands of able-bodied soldiers already sheltered there, protecting refugees with all the might they and their armored divisions could muster. But this hilltop was special. Under its soil, there was a relic blade that had led to the destruction of the daemon Zenobiar 4,000 years prior to this new invasion. Archaeologists were hard at work to uncover the site, but time was running out. Without immediate support, the makeshift fortress would fall. Colonel Sparks fired off another plasma bolt from his pistol, sending a Plaguebearer down into a heap. The psykers managed to push them back and keep the plague at bay, but their minds were already burning; they couldn't handle much more.  
"Tell him that we have the site secured! We have the weapon that defeated Zenobiar! Tell him to get his ass over here so we can win this fight!"

#6 Posted by Kastiel (8919 posts) - - Show Bio

The Castigator, Regus, and the Lord-General, Kastiel, had mutual respect for each other in the short time they have known each other. Despite being of higher Kastiel considered him to be on equal standing.  The Administration on Symaar Primus thought it was best to assign the young Lord-General a Castigator due to his mistake on Ferravius three months ago. Some Lord-Generals in the past saw this as an act of disrespect. They thought having a Castigator showed they weren't capable of defending themselves like babies just emerged from the womb. As most know Lord Kastiel was different than most before him. He didn't hate the Administration doing for what they thought best. It was only fair. He just hated how some the old fools in power thought they were better than anyone else. Something Kastiel was not afraid to voice out. Probably another explanation as to why he was assigned a Castigator so early. Still didn't faze him in the slightest.  
"No need to apologize, Regus.You're free to protect me as how you see fit. It's your job after all if I'm not mistaken." Kastiel took note at how skilled Regus was. He took time to apologize before killing a follower of Nurgle. Kastiel just realized he hadn't lift a finger yet or killed anyone with his own hands so far. Castigator Regus took all that upon himself. Cassandra was treating the wounded and killing. "Someone's being a showoff." He smirked as he finally had the chance to take care of a Nurgling. Kastiel was happy Regus let him have that one. A shot from his bolt pistol took the head clean right off. "Oh is that coming from the man who just got his first kill from a walking slug? Your display of power is just so overwhelming. I'm not even fit to be in your presence Lord Kastiel." Funny, she never referred to his title ever. This was the first time and it was out sarcasm. Anyone else who would've referred to Kastiel with that attitude would be jailed. Cassandra was the exception for many reasons. "Sarcasm? I could have a certain someone expelled from the Imperium for that."  
"I would like to see you try." Okay she did have a point there but this was all harmless fun coming from the both of them. It took away the grim aspect they were fighting against. A little humor once in awhile wasn't all bad despite what most Symaarians would object against. "Lord Kastiel, the Guard losses number 12%. I think that's a new record for your honored leadership. Thanks to the psyker Cassandra, the wounded are being treated with no ill effects. According to the astropaths, the Nurgle fleet is still in orbit. They apparently have no plans of retreating." This was good. Maybe they could end the onslaught of Nurgle in just one day. Would be a record in the history books and Kastiel's first militaristic accomplishment. Things were looking bright at the moment. His uniform was still clean and prim despite being on the front lines. Regus was covered in blood of cultists, followers, marines, and anyone that dared attack Kastiel. Having a Castigator around was not bad at all. "I regret to inform you that civilian losses on this world number more than 40%. Most have turned to the worship of Nurgle while others, bless their souls, have been strung on gibbets as demonstration to loyalists in the sector. If this violation of the Navigator's will continues, I should hope that you know that Sector Sabbath will start to feel the effects of a civil war. I will continue with you as you wish."  
That was off, way off. These kind of statistics would be more familiar with Tzeentch or Slaneesh not Nurgle. "You have permission to speak freely Regus. I must ask for your opinion before I make an official confirmation to anyone else, even myself." Kastiel took a breath. He just hoped he was being paranoid. "It seems as though Nurgle is focusing less on the fight and more on the people. It's as if this is to distract us from something else. The battle is going far to easy. My father's battle was more damaging than this. I just hope I'm being paranoid in my second battle of the Eternal War."  
---Sector Sabbath, Adrastos, Real Space--- 
Captain Amon was one of the few available people to put out the call. This was his second battle with the new Lord-General. He was one of the lucky people to make it out alive and yet he didn't lose hope in the new leader. He sprinted into the comms tool held in the carrier. It was still there to transport any wounded soldiers to a more safe haven to bring down any threat of disease to the main forces. Miles, and miles away Kastiel noticed someone was phoning him. He only hoped something didn't go wrong. "The site is secured, sir but we need more of everything! The psykers are growing weary and we need more men. A carrier of fresh forces to switch out the ones who been here all day would be appreciated, sir!" Kastiel shut off the link and ordered for a carrier with fresh soldiers and psykers to the location and a shuttle to pick him up along with his companions. His research actually paid off. Though finding the Goddess Isha would always be appreciated.  
On the way they barely encountered any resistance. This was making him uneasy. "Isn't Warsman trying to kill me or rather make me succumb to Chaos? I'm in the air, big target, on a little shuttle, and nothing? Not even taunting? He's more focused on the relic and the people more so than anything. Making them turn away from the Navigator so quickly is not going to happen during my reign. I will inspire hope in the Symaarian people just like the man before me. A swift end to this battle just might do that."

#7 Posted by Castigator_Regus (8 posts) - - Show Bio

---Sector Sabbath, Hive World Adrastos, real space--- 
Lord Kastiel organized the defense of the sector like a masterful chess player, but he had just so many pieces; his opponent mustered hundreds for each one of his. Civil wars broke out on the surfaces of the hive worlds, their populations of Guardsmen frantically holding out against heretical storm. The psychic cloud across the sector screamed in torture as Symaarian psykers and daemons alike fought for supremacy of the raw Warp energy they both harnessed. Adrastos was one of the worst of the sector, having been prone to more riots in the past than any other hive world in the area combined. Its populace swarmed to the worship of Nurgle like the flies buzzing around their heads. Their mutated flesh was a mockery of what the Navigator had given them, and the Castigator was hard-pressed to keep his own wrath in check. After all, his number one priority was ensuring the safety of the Lord-General. 
Regus foiled the attempts of at least a dozen suicide bombers on Lord Kastiel's life and kicked more than that of cultist grenades back into the holes from whence they came. The streets were littered with broken statues of saints and heroes, desecrated with the filth and excrement of the new masters of the lawless hives. The Guard slowly advanced through the muck and waste, crushing old buildings with Leman Russ battle tanks or the occasional Baneblade. The hives were to be disassembled, as per the "Code of Cultist Extermination," and replaced with fortifications suited for Symaarian Guard operation. The stoic line of armored support, followed grimly by the gas-masked Symaarian Guard, pulped civilization with ammunition and sewed fire and death in its place. Whoever had sought shelter in the city, heretic or innocent, now had to face the brutal reality that their journey into heretical fanaticism was now over. The Castigator followed Lord Kastiel through the terrible disaster, saving his life only once when a cultist - presumed dead under the rubble - burst to life with his melta gun online. Regus turned the barrel against the cultist and he melted away into a pile of white-hot slag. The heretical melta gun was then confiscated and destroyed.  
Soon, the city of Andros was nothing more than a miserable mound of broken cement and twisted steel. The number of cultist bodies was never determined nor shall it ever be. Such vermin are never meant to have been acknowledged to exist. Andros burned for a dozen days as the fires refused to be coaxed. Perhaps this was a blessing of the Navigator, as the heat and light kept the darkness of the plagues away long enough for the psykers to establish a gestalt psychic field to properly keep the disease at bay. The location of the transmission that had originally brought the fresh Symaarian Guard was discovered just outside Andros. It was a makeshift fortress made out of poorly-organized sandbags and shallow trenches. Oddly, there was only one body, an eviscerated corpse that held an empty plasma pistol and was in the motion of slapping in another clip. 
The dogtag said his name was Colonel Sparks.  
---Ferravius, Bastion Theta, one week later--- 
Castigator Regus followed Lord Kastiel as the latter carried Zenobiar's Bane from the Valkyrie. The tech-priests had recently validated its authenticity, and Kastiel was now more confident than ever that he could defeat Warsman. But the Castigator was increasingly weary of the Lord-General's overconfidence. Sector Sabbath had been overrun quicker than expected. The Guard only had time to finish the excavation of Zenobiar's Bane before the psykers were overwhelmed by the presence of scores of Great Unclean Ones. How they had been summoned so easily is so far unknown. Retreat was inevitable, but the sudden appearance of a host of Eldar puzzled the Guardsmen. Lord Kastiel watched as they held off the swarm long enough for the Guard to leave orbit. From there, it was anyone's guess. Regus knew the Eldar would resurface if they had such an interest in this new war. It was only a matter of time. 

#8 Posted by ThisIsGonnaHurt (30177 posts) - - Show Bio

"Is the weapon ready?" A necromancer said, leaning on his rusty staff like a withered old man. 
The Plague Marine pointed his crooked finger in the direction of the excavation site. The necromancer shambled where the Plague Marine lead him and eventually came to an enormous crater being opened by cultists armed with shovels and digging equipment. The necromancer found his way carefully down to the center of the crater. He spread his leper digits across the surface of the black construction, observing the runes inscribed in its metallic "skin." The necromancer could detect something akin to breathing within the tomb. Higher above him, where Zenobiar's Bane once stood fast, was a small opening. The whispers of the Seven Plagues pooled from that incision, poisoning the real space around it. Time intermingled with disease and all things withered. The necromancer hacked as he continued to study the device. 
"Yes...this is perfect." 
Legends told that Zenobiar once consumed an entire Necron tomb world and his bloated girth tripled overnight. The Necrons could not be destroyed, but they could be converted. The souls that were tortured within their metallic hulls were further poisoned by the corruption of Nurgle. Their wills to serve their star gods withered and instead, a new blasphemous rot overtook their determination to fight beyond the grave. These particular Necrons survived Zenobiar's death and now they were here, still slumbering in their mildewed coffins and rust and waiting for the day they could be unleashed to spread the immortal pox of Nurgle. 
"Lord Warsman will be pleased."