Chapter 35: Rot in the Warp
POV: 3rd Person
Location: The Garden of Nurgle
"Shiii, Father..."
A sickly, malformed abomination stood amidst the foul bloom of the Garden. Tentacles writhed from its bloated form, serrated teeth jutted from uneven jaws, and its pustule-ridden body wept vile green ichor through countless slits.
Before the creature towered an abhorrent figure—one so revolting, so maddening, that any mortal glimpse would invite madness or death. His corpulent mass quivered with the weight of disease incarnate, a rotting monolith of grotesque mirth.
The Plaguefather.
The Lord of Decay.
**Nurgle**.
"Grurururururuu…"
A deep gurgle escaped Nurgle's throat, maggots tumbling from his gaping maw. In his diseased hand, he held a massive rusted ladle, which he stirred into a colossal cauldron. The blackened vessel boiled with virulent plaguebrew, its surface swirling with unnatural life.
At the sound, his malformed son giggled and climbed up his diseased frame, settling joyfully upon his oozing shoulder.
"Father, father, father! Me have good news! News make you jolly!"
The child abomination clung lovingly to its creator's leathered and mucus-coated skin.
"Hmmm?"
Nurgle's eye turned toward his spawn, his grotesque visage twisting into something akin to a smile—a sight that would unmake mortal sanity. Yet the child merely beamed, giddy in its father's festering presence.
"Shi Shi Shi Shi! Me found the star! Me found the star!"
At that declaration, Nurgle's stirring ceased. His titanic body trembled—then threw back his head and roared with laughter.
**"GRARARARARARARARA!"**
The Garden shook from the echoing bellow. Pestilent trees oozed sap, bloated flies took to the air, and the myriad daemon-children of Nurgle erupted in jubilant celebration. The very Warp trembled from the laughter of the Lord of Decay.
But his joy did not remain confined.
---
In the **Brass Citadel**, the laughter interrupted the eternal conflict, causing the Blood God's warriors to pause. Khorne snarled, enraged that the mirth disrupted the sacred slaughter.
In the **Crystal Labyrinth**, the Architect of Fate tilted his head, intrigued. A knowing chuckle echoed through Tzeentch's domain, already piecing together the threads of Nurgle's revelation.
And in the **Palace of Pleasure**, a shriek of frustration rang out. Slaanesh—coiled upon a throne of writhing flesh—gritted her teeth. Her eyes narrowed. She too had glimpsed the Star... and now she knew others were moving.
Back in the Garden—
"Grarara... good job, my son."
Nurgle's colossal hand patted the spawn's deformed head with a wet squelch. The child trembled with joy, but soon its form sagged in regret.
"Shi... but father... me lost the star. Purple pervert hurt me. Me lost."
Nurgle's laugh became a gentle, bubbling chuckle.
"No need to worry, my little rotling. I only needed you to *find* him. He is protected... I did not expect you to capture him."
The child giggled again, leaping and squirming happily across Nurgle's revolting mass.
But deep within, the Plaguefather's mood turned.
His grip on the ladle tightened, and his festering gaze darkened.
**'That Slaaneshi filth dared to wound my child. Nearly *killed* him.'**
The cauldron's contents frothed and hissed as Nurgle stirred it with newfound venom.
**'You will pay, degenerate.'**
---
Elsewhere in the Warp, drifting like a godflame through the void, a golden sun pulsed. The Astronomican.
From its heart, a voice—regal and burdened—echoed:
**"Hmmm. They've sensed him. Leon's presence is no longer hidden."**
The **Emperor of Mankind**, master of the Golden Throne, brooded. He could not risk confrontation with the Ruinous Powers—not yet.
"I must buy him time…"
For a fleeting moment, the Emperor seemed to consider countless futures—until, with the weight of inevitability, he exhaled.
**"Very well. I'll leave it to my sons."**
The sun dimmed. The Master of Mankind retreated into silence once more.
---
**POV: Unknown**
**Location: Mortal Realm, Forward Operating Camp – Medical Tent**
"Huuu... that was close. That could've turned into a real bloody mess."
A shadow slipped from the confines of **Ms. Merah's** medical tent. The unknown figure glanced back once, then withdrew a small vial—its glass trembling from the volatile, *Warp-tainted* substance within.
The green liquid pulsed malevolently, emitting an aura of sheer corruption.
"Tsk. Damn fool monkey. She *knows* how dangerous this shit is, yet she still hoards it…"
The figure hissed under their breath, careful not to alert the workers bustling through the camp. They tucked the vial deep into their robes, drawing their hood low to conceal their face.
"You monkeys are lucky Leon saved me. If he hadn't, I'd have left all of you to rot."
Their fingers brushed against their ears, pressing them flat beneath the hood as they vanished into the camp's outskirts. Somewhere far away, in the forgotten edges of the zone, a pit or chasm would swallow this vial—far from curious eyes and reckless hands.
A secret buried.
A spark of Chaos hidden once more.
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