In this installment of our Warhammer 40,000 lore series, we delve into the murky depths of the Plague Planet and its fearsome denizens, the Death Guard. The Death Guard, progeny of Mortarion, are notorious for their sinister instruments of war, chief among them the toxins of misery. These entropic shock waves prove to be a valuable asset, eroding enemy morale while fortifying the Death Guard in combat. In the grim calculus of war, one side must eventually succumb, and it is never the sons of Mortarion.
Nestled deep within the bale swamps of the Plague Planet lies the Peele Yard, a citadel and manufactury where the infamous toxins of misery are crafted. This relentless Smithy, inundated with a never-ending cacophony, is home to the Noxious Blight Bringers. The Peele Yard, situated precariously on the brink of the warp, is a place of grim industry. Monotonous demon smiths labor tirelessly, sculpting the accursed bells from the wails of dying psychers and infusing them with runes of madness and misery, all under the vigilant supervision of Lord Gox’s Toll Guard.
Among the Toll Guard, one figure stands out – the Foul Blight Spawn. His corruption is so profound it permeates the air around him, causing the atmosphere to coagulate into a noxious odor. This grotesque figure manipulates the corroded crank of his malevolent churn, his labored gasps echoing in the incubator affixed to his rear, filled with plague slop. Upon completion of his putrid concoction, he lifts the nozzle of his plague sprayer, releasing a peristaltic propulsion of foul slime that liquefies flesh, decays armor, and rots souls.
The Foul Blight Spawn are a unique breed among the Plague Marine Death Guard. They are warriors who revel in watching their victims languish under the affliction of Nurgle’s plagues. Their bodies undergo grotesque physical degeneration, their flesh swelling with fetid adipose until it turns translucent, their eyes seeping black mucus, and an abominable odor exuding from their pores so vile that it repels even their fellow plague marines. Yet within these decaying forms, forbidden knowledge of Nurgle’s disease artistry flourishes, driving them towards a compulsive fascination with alchemy and the gleeful concoction of lethal pathogens.
Once a Blight Spawn emerges, they are dispatched to the contagion manufactories of the Plague Planet. There, they are forcibly integrated with the foul mechanisms of corruption, gears and pistons of malignancy, and incubators are permanently attached to their armor. Amid the disease-ridden laboratories and cauldrons of festering plague, the Foul Blight Spawn absorbs wisdom from the eldest and most vile among them. These entities have become so engorged with decay that they resemble grotesque toxic fungi, toiling with fanatical zeal to cultivate the ultimate contagions as offerings to the Plague God himself.
Armed with their dreadful alchemical knowledge, the Foul Blight Spawn return to their vectorium with vials of their most recent and exquisite creations. Among these creations are blight grenades: explosive devices that release shards contaminated with rot, pestilential spores, and septic mucilage upon detonation. The most fearsome of these weapons are the Death Heads of Nurgle, decaying skulls created by the foul Blight Spawn as homage to the projectiles hurled by Nurgle’s own plague drones.
Also instrumental in the Death Guard’s mission are the Biologus Putrifiers, who refine the virulent effluent concocted by the Foul Blight Spawn, enhancing its potency. They are marked by a singular mutation; lidless milk-white eyes that burgeon like cysts hidden beneath their skin, termed ules. With these eyes, they can discern every subtlety of an infection’s proliferation within a living host. Their findings are relayed to bustling menials and prancing demonic clerks, who fill ancient tomes of rotting parchment with precious knowledge of disease refinement.
In the grim world of Warhammer 40,000, the Plague Planet and its denizens serve as a terrifying reminder of the power of corruption and decay. For the Death Guard, the battlefields of real space provide a boundless supply of subjects ripe for their twisted experiments, ensuring a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth in the name of Nurgle.
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