Emperors Vanquisher, Lieutenant Forar, Faldars Own
"Sir! Sir?!" A horrified face yelled, his eyes bug eyed as the man shook him, causing his head to swim that much more. "Our orders Sir! Our or-"
Something took this mans head clean off, spraying him with a shower of blood, bone, and grey mater. He hoped to his feet as he looked to his left, a wall, then ahead, a mound of dirt. He then looked to his right, a dug out door. Picking up the troopers las gun, he entered the door with his gun raised. A female trooper raced towards him, and fell under Flamer fire.
'Sweet Tera, what kind of situation did I get my self into?!' He turned to leave but there stood a hulking behemoth, armed and armoured with red and gold, a chain axe in both hands. "Skulls for the skull throne!!" The figure launched its self at him, but he threw him self to the ground and bolted out the door.
He looked around quickly, looking to his left, and there a Leman Russ battle tank sat and belched its death. He scrambled onto it, falling into the Commanders cupola and shut the hatch. "About time Sir, where have you been?" He slapped the side of the cupola and the tank began to rumble on. "Can the chatter, Private, this is going to hit the stars fast." The Commander turned to his instruments, and to his dismay it showed many runes to be red. He turned to his left veiw port to see the battle field. Then he saw it. "Good Emperor above..." That was the last thing he saw before it wiped him and his tank from existence.
Tourniquet, Great Rotted, Unnamed traitor force.
"Successful hit, Master, completely ate it away, nothing but Fathers Gift."
The bloated figure it the throne like cupola groaned a high pitched squeal. "Father will be so proud!" He bounced in his chair like a little child, his mass and figure seeming almost impossible for this action to happen. Then he suddenly stopped and was suddenly serious. "Round up what's left, and take slaves." The hatch hissed above him opening slowly, his men, or what was left of them, began after battle scans. He stepped from the cupola onto the stand and put his hands on the rail, watching his forces operate.
Across the open field and trench work, slaves were being rounded up, as we're Berserkers. The dead was being pile into the trenches or eaten by Nurgalings, and Plauge Beasts. The Berserkers were being being bound and put into a transport, off to some other reach of the universe, ready to wreak their habits. The Plague Marines lorded over the Cultists, who in turn did their dirty work.
The Traitors were Once the Alban Reach Planetary Defence Forces, infiltrated by Nurglite worshipers in its higher ranks, it slowly began to rot all the way down to the lowest PDF janitorial staff. A rebellion in Nurgle's name swiftly followed, and a Space Marine unit was quickly dispatched to handle the corrosive situation. The oldest recruited member was two century's old, and the Chapter was in its infancy by Marine standards. The Merciless Crusaders, raised from Blood Angles gene seed.
But what no one had accounted for, was Nurgle's forces brought. Admittedly, it seemed Nurgle truly had no interest in the situation, sending only one Plauge Champion to seemingly orchestrate the PDF and slaves. However, Alban Reach was a mining planet, and was underneath the crust of the planet, as above the planet was volatile and inhospitable as it was. This was overlooked, deemed unimportant in the overall scheme of the rebellion. However, it would be pivotal in its simplicity.
As soon as the Marines launched their assault they ran into stiff resistance for a Traitor Guard. Competent defensive battlements were constructed in effective choke necks and defensible positions. Added onto this was the mining equipment, and effectively grounded all transport onto the planet. After the entire chapter was committed to the rebellion, it started to go their way as the went deep into the world, victory in sight. Then the poison was released around the whole planet, and Nurgle had bred an entire army in an hour.
The slaves were chained together in long trains, being pulled along by Plague Marines, few having Nurgle's gifts blessed upon them. Atop of his parapet he looked around, century's old, he and his crew were very much different than the soldiers he now commanded. He was blessed with many gifts, and his distorted, bloated appearance only supported this. Around him and his vehicle was also Nurgalings who he treated as his children, and his snacks when he was hungry. He leaned against the railing, even this act releasing agents into the air, a fungus growing on it, it barely holding his weight.
"All slaves accounted for and awaiting orders, Master Rott, sustained no casualties to Marines, Followers sustained acceptable casualties, corpses being processed as we speak." He looked down at the generally new looking marine, hardly even gunk in the crevasses of his newly painted armour. He rubbed a Nurgaling thoughtfully as it beamed from the attention. "Ask the Plague Bearer what Father wishes. Induct half the slaves into the Cult, the rest can go to the mission... We will monitor what plagues will form on this planet.. You have your orders." The marine bowed and went off to his superiors. Rott turned back and re entered his vehicle, the walls itself breathing with happiness as he entered, his crew were checking systems. "All systems Green, Master. Radio coms indicate another force making headway. Coms open." His radio and info officer was, for a Nurgalite, quite normal in appearance. Due to his natural resilience to almost everything that he had ingested, breathed, and generally squandered in, he had been left untouched. Though some looked down upon him be because of this, his Master and crew firmly believe in the long the festering, the stronger it will be in the end.
"Marines, we have an unidentified force moving quickly towards out position, have the followers act dead and lie about the field, mix some marines with them. The rest of you, fall back into the last trench, I also want the Plague Marine detail to fall back to the Tourniquet. They'll be here in 28 minutes. Out." Moving of bodies and feet suddenly started to move. The Plague Marine detail showed up soon after, and the Squad Leader hoped up onto the Cupola and opened the hatch. "Yes Brother Master?" Rott handed the marine a rusty blade. "Father has blessed you with a new weapon, Brother, he is pleased with your tribute." The Plague Marine smilled and clapped his hands in glee. He then took the blade and moved it around in his hand. "I also want you to stay behind the Tourniquet, it's going to be a surprise." The marine closed the hatched and metal boots could be heard clinking against the hull. "How much do we have left?" He said, turning towards a very misshapen gunner, almost moulded into the position. "Green Master, someone dumped many corpses after." Rott nodded and stood to look our his veiw port. His entrails once again slipping from a hole in his stomach, spilling all into the cupola. Nurgalings stirred as suddenly their home was no long inside his body, and sensing there was no fighting, poked and mingled with the Nurgalings that lived in the Tourniquet.
After a few minutes the force showed up, and to the amusement of the awaiting force it was a splinter group of Khornate Berserkers. As they looked around the area, the leader started to shout orders, and that's when the trap was sprung. The Traitors utilized the mining worlds las technology and weaponized it into two man teams, this began to cut down the Berserkers under efficient beams of erie blue fire. The regular trooper however was still equipped with a standard PDF auto gun, and was about a 7.01 round from a .30 caliber rifle. This did little against power armor and the automatic spray was far from accurate, however single shots for ten man squads, aimed directly at weak spots on the armour proved useful. As did the anti- armour grenades at close proximity. It was truly an amazing sight as trained las and lead smashed the small band into surprise, as suddenly corpses were once again alive. The Berserkers responded quickly, but the shear numbers and firepower ended the battle quickly. Truly it was a sad day in the Imperium when these soldiers fell.
After the ambush decimated the entire band, the cultists went to work also offering them to their Father. Rott had never seen such an effective cultist force in his life, and hoped them to be proper carriers of Fathers gifts.
Finally the corpses were rounded up and placed in one massive pit, the Plague Marines walked into the middle of it, the middle of them was the Plague Bearer. Wounded and slaves were piled around the corpses, while the Traitor guard and marines covered the corpses, standing tightly packed on top of them, humming, praising Nurgle. A feverish pitch began to for from the group, all seen as brothers serving their Father God. The Plague Bearer began to speak in its Daemonic tongue, and suddenly a clear green pestilence began to strengthen from the Plague Marines, large amounts of flies appearing from the cracks of their armour as the rank diseases spilled across the death pit and out of it.
Soldiers and marines fell alike to the Plague being released from the foul five. The wounded and slaves on the outside began to convulse violently, blood and mucous pouting from their nose and eyes, crying out in pain before beginning to choke on their own fluids.
Leaning on his railing once again, the Great Rotted watched with glee as a force was once again being raised to fill the ranks. He looked on the side of his vehicle, the wounded Berserker chained on the side. "So, son of Khorne. Tell me, who do you serve?" The Khornate began to convulse and thrash. "Khorne is my Master! Skulls for the skull throne!" The thrashing suddenly stopped as the hull it's self sucked the Berserker into its self, moving him to a crack in it. Upon a closer look at this vehicle by either side, outlines if power armor of different colours, some still alive. He looked back at the ritual.
The Plague Marines had fallen to their knees as the ritual was almost finished, inevitably the marines were the first to once again stand while the Guardsmen were soon after. Many looked around to see what was different, but none could see the change. Quickly after the Plague Bearer rose into the air, and launched into the pack of rotting corpses, causing them and the forced on them to fly everywhere.
After everyone got back to their feet, some were crushed but felt no pain, others arms were broken but also felt nothing. They also noticed the rotting that they had among their bodies. The man in charge was a marine Captain, he answered directly to Rott, and thusly the hierarchy went down. The Guardsmen now led by their Company Commander, and answered directly to the Captain, and to the marines.
Rott stood on his podium. "Men of Nurgle! Father has given you his gift and with time, champions of his name will arise! Come around me children!" He felt parental pride in his forces surrounded him. "You are placed in my charge until one has arisen to take my charge, then I will leave you to your own fates." The men grumbled and nodded, not really understanding what he was talking about. "Now, get organized and get ready for departure, sons and daughters of Nurgle." A cheer from the crowd met his orders as the officers went to work. Hell would be raised from Nurgle's newest children.
