Every so often, the grim dark future of Warhammer 40,000 throws a curveball that rocks the galaxy to its core. One such devastating event was the dread of the Zombie Plague, engineered by none other than Typhus, the Herald of Nurgle himself.
In the year 757 of the 41st Millennium, Typhus, the harbinger of pestilence, unleashed the Zombie Plague on the unsuspecting populous of Hydra Minoris, a Capitol Hive City. The outbreak marked a new epoch of terror, as the hapless victims succumbed to the affliction, only to reanimate and embark on a relentless assault against the living. Overnight, Hydra Minoris was transformed from a bustling hub of Imperial society to a global necropolis of rot-filled tombs, a testament to Typhus’s macabre handiwork.
The Imperial response was swift, yet desperate, as a decree of quarantine was issued, trapping 23 billion non-infected citizens in an unending nightmare alongside an ever-increasing legion of the undead. The Zombie Plague had achieved what it set out to do, please the Chaos God Nurgle by fusing the cycles of life and death in the most horrific way.
Fast forward to the year 926 of the 41st Millennium, the strategically vital Astropath Hub and Fortress planet, Vacala, found itself in the crosshairs of The Purge, a Chaos Space Marine. The Purge’s cruel intentions were realized with the annihilation of 14 billion civilians within a single solar month.
However, the Imperium was not to be outdone. The Hammers of Dawn, Fire Lords, and Crimson Fists chapters orchestrated a planetary assault, bolstered by the support of a dozen guard battle groups and a few knights from House Raven. The ensuing warfare transformed Vacala into a tumultuous cauldron of conflict, attracting forces from across the sector.
Yet the tide of war took a turn for the worse when Typhus, alongside hundreds of Plague Marines, descended onto Vacala, turning the planet into a breeding ground for the Zombie Plague. Each passing day saw helpless inhabitants fall victim to the plague, swelling the ranks of the undead, and pushing the Imperial forces to their limits.
Caught amidst the escalating chaos, the Imperial forces found themselves battling not only against traitors but also a relentless tide of the walking dead. Eventually, a second Imperial fleet arrived, declaring the world as lost and commencing preparations for the evacuation of survivors and initiation of Exterminatus.
Before the onset of the Plague Wars, the Death Guard managed to seize a series of worlds within the bounds of Ultramar, known as the Scourge Stars. However, during the assault on Ultramar, Typhus, in his arrogance, deemed himself the true favorite of Grandfather Nurgle and led an attack on the planet Desa.
Armed with his deadly, corroded bolters and a psychic potential higher than ever, Typhus marched his forces into the very maw of fire, their blasphemous hymns echoing across the battlefield. The sight of fallen souls departing their bodies and rushing into the warp streams filled him with a perverse delight. Yet, he lamented the wasteful expenditure of flesh, preferring instead the exquisite flavor of despair and the total forfeiture of hope.
Typhus stood at the forefront of the battle, his cursed scythe tearing through everything it encountered, leaving a trail of blue sparks in its wake. It was a spectacle to behold, a testament to the power bestowed upon him by Nurgle. It was a grim reminder to the mortals of how little their false god had given them, and a call to forsake hope and embrace the arms of Grandfather Nurgle.
Yet, amidst this chaos, an exalted Herald of Nurgle, Lord Mocos, appeared before Typhus, ordering him to cease hostilities with Mortarion and head to Palmeno to attack the Star Fortress Gallatin. Reluctantly, Typhus obeyed, vowing to take Gallatin so that Mortarion would choke on the glory of his victory.
As the Plague Fleet approached Palmeno, the battle commenced. Gallatin, blessed with dozens of shield banks and thousands of surfs laboring under the stern oversight of the Tech Adepts, prepared for the onslaught. The choir sang hosannas to the Emperor, a shimmer of hope in the face of the impending doom. The stage was set for another chapter in the grim saga of the 41st Millennium.
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