Sunday, March 25, 2012

3 Sunday Best #34: Champions of Nurgle

An eternal struggle rages within the depths of hell.  Foul daemons tearing each other apart.  Feeding endlessness on the entrails of the fallen.  Yet none of them ever seem to die.  They simple decay and corrupt the soil around their blotted bodies.  Flesh flies infest and swarm the carcasses of dead, laying their larva under their vile skin.  Rising up from the pile of skulls that litter the ground grotesque creatures of the night are reborn.  The cycle of their pain never ends and their screams haunt the corners of the of our dreams.  Breaking down the holy silence that binds their world to ours.  They spew forth a Lord in its' name.  A harbinger of the one they once worshiped.  Spewing forth propaganda in his name, they record their blasphemy on the pages of their blog.  Each one contributing to the contamination of this week's Sunday Best.  Each one a Champions of Nurgle in their own right.

Ku'Gath is a testament to the abomination that Nurgle has become.  Twisted and contorted it breaks the laws of nature as it withers about.  Whipping and thrashing about it focus its' eyes and efforts on the spawn of its' kin.  Withering underneath its' flesh wages a war in progress.  A plethora of limbs burst out from its' torso as it moans in pain.  Screaming out his name the Ku'Gath is ready to serve his father against the imperium of mankind.

Drowning in a pool of puss a former Mariner exhaust his last breath of life.  Replaced with the rot of the Father of Decay his body begins to bubble with excitement.  Boils begin to form under his flesh as his head is engorged with blood.  Pushing its way up from the depths of his bowels a new face begins to emerge.  Reaching up with its claws it pries open its' mouth, snapping its' jaw out of place.  His tongue sloshes about as his second head devours the insides of the former.  Like a lifeless executioners hood his previous scalp cast a dark shadow ominously over its' face.  Pulling back the cowl of death it reveals the horrors of its' new persona. 

Champion #3 - Nurgle Daemon Prince
Its' rusted armour shifts and bends as the flesh of its' body contorts and bends.  Feeding off the vile and puke that it floats upon.  The foul liquid begins to corrode and rust the metal.  Like a leech feeding on the plasma of its' victim it gorges itself.  Filling is gut with an unfathomable amount of fluid it begins to enlarge.  A withering mass of metal and flesh rising up from the war in progress.  Mutating into a behemoth Prince of Darkness it stretches its' wings out towards the sky.  Neither man nor machine this foul creature of the night is ready to claim its' first victim.

Each of these three Champions of Nurgle has emerged victorious from the planes of hell.  Each of them a work in progress that waits to be paint in a bath of blood, vile and gore.  Each beckoning forth an army of disease and pestilence.  Forever in his servitude they are imprisoned in world of suffering and pain.  Each a Champion of Nurgle.


  1. Again...Love your descriptions :)

    Thanks for the shoutout!

  2. I just got back from a twelve day business trip and the first thing I am doing after work tomorrow is buying some of HP Lovecraft literature. Cannot wait to delve into the cosmic horror.

  3. You truly have a way with words. If I had half your talent, my posts might actually consist of more than 2-3 sentences. Thanks for the shout out it is always appreciated.