No Great Things

Part 1:
>He was not a man destined for great things
>He was a farmer, destined to death from overwork and age, if sickness didn't take him first
>He was not a brave or mighty man, or one of the knightly nobles of his world
>Unlike them he was not supposed to leave their mother planet to join the wars of the star warriors
>However he was among them now, surrounded by death and sounds so terrible he thought devils must've made them
>Hunkered down in the trench he and his fellow peasants turned "guardsmen" He prayed and tried to hide his tears
>He prayed to the sun emperor, the king of kings, the father of mankind to save him somehow.
>to keep him from being consumed by these twisted, bloated pox covered monsters jibbering and skipping around him like a swarm of corpses
>He could not believe they were once men as he was, as his friends were
>the friends his commissar had gunned down for showing signs of the same infection
>he had not felt the air on his face since then, and stared out at the horrors of the war around him through a gasmask
>So his prayers fell upon his face as hot, cloying air now
>The sounds of shells mixed with his own wheezing, and the commissars yelling joined in with that hideous laughter
>Counter charge. Counter charge. it was the one order he heard through the dreadful song of the devils around him
>If he was a braver man he'd shoot the commissar and run, leaving him to be consumed by those befanged roots clawing through the mud around them even now
>but instead he stood with the few remaining men of his regiment, and stared off at the once blue sky now chocked a vile dark, mucusy greenish yellow

Part 2:
>And under the thin, whispy clouds that filled it, he saw the same visions of hell as before
>the same nightmares made rotten flesh that had taken the nobler men he looked up to and feared
>the same that filled his friends veins with foulest ichor and curses and got them killed
>So, staring at the same beasts from the stories his gradmother told him, his fear turned to fury and bravery
>And for a moment, the cacophony of war was broken by a thousand voice made one
>through the shellings, the hissing of canisters delivering their payload, the laughter and chocked cackling of the damned and dying were broken with a war cry
>"FOR THE EMPEROR!" the commissar commanded as his men screamed the same, running forward, rusted chainsword refusing to turn it was so slick and marred with muck and diseased tissue
>that brave man led them head long into a perhaps living wave of flush, puss and bile held together in bags of taught, twisted skin
>However the farmer stopped for a moment, struggling to raise his rifle up to aim as his screams were muffled by the mask
>through the horned and vine covered monstrosities throwing themselves at the living wall he was now part of, he could swear he caught glimpses of more humanoid shapes, and colors besides purple rot, green foulness and yellowed skin.
>But rather flashes of the purest white
>He didn't have time to focus on them, as the battle came to him with the gurgled death cry of the man who had owned his land
>that mans mask had been ripped off, and the miasma around him had turned his lungs black and forced them out of his own lips
>the farmer stumbled forward pushed by the commisar as he roared at the line to keep formation
>the man himself simply kept screaming in rage, his voice and the burn of his laz shots making his suit feel like an oven he was forced into, with buckets of sweat rolling down him.
>And so he turned delirious in the heat

Part 3:
>And could only be thankful he didn't have to smell the charred, rotting flesh of his foes than to worry about his own impending death
>He stumbled after the tell tale hat of his commissar, trying to keep up with it through the marsh of flesh turned to sour liquid, and bones turned to roots to trip him and drown him
>it took him a moment to realize it was no longer connected to its owner's head and so he paused to look back for him
>He saw his legs standing in the reddish black mire, missing the other half of him.
>the farmers mind went blank with terror, even before what was left of the man's intestines turned to a horrible mix of snakes and vines that came creeping towards him
>Unable to form words under the pool of sweat and grime that was once a cleaner that had covered his mouth he merely screamed silently, stumbling into the mire and trying to run for any safety
>his brief moment of bravery gone as he realized he was surrounded by hell and its denizens, and now his one comfort, his protecting suit and odd mask had turned in his mind to a tomb
>He clawed at his mask with every panicked step, trying to tear its seal in a blind, mindless panic as human faced flies and flying leeches chased him from the blood rot marsh into the forest
>if he had paused to catch his strangled breath, he'd have noticed the piece of flak armor in the trees, the fleshy texture, and the flaky bone like leaves and limbs they sported
>Or the skull shaped fruit oozing black sap as the visages of the foul spell screamed out in torment
> He only noticed the bloated corpses pierced with vines when he nearly tripped over them
>And then came the gibbering, the laughter, the screaming. Light died as the farmer turned soldier found himself deep in the forest of corpses
>what little sunlight managed to seep through the foul clouds of poison was completely gone, leaving him in a complete darkness except for the glow of his gear

Part 4:
>Which was now struggling to keep him alive in the "Womb" of nurgle's foul works
>and as he realized his own doom, his hands began to move away from his mask, before he realized it was drowning him in his own accrued filth.
>and saw he began clawing at its seals again, digging at his skin as he cried out and mentally prayed for salvation
>He sat alone and afraid in a sea of ink, in a forest of death
>Begging for life and death
>Or he was alone, until she came
>He barely noticed her in his struggles for survival, until he noticed the white in the sheer black
>He thought her a statue brought to life, beauty manifest, an angel come to take him to the emperor
>And so as she marched forward, he stopped prying at his mask, thinking himself already dead
>In the black, he did not see the dried blood upon her porcelain white skin, the black filth oozing around her joints with bits of flesh coming with them, or the small creeping veins that crawled on her armor like ivy veins, complete with blossoming flowers
>He tried to stand, to have some dignity after death
>She merely placed the haft of her great scythe on his chest, as her delicate hand, free of armor reached for his mask
>with inhuman dexterity, she plunged her fingers under the sweat bloated mask
>And tore it free without a word
"Breath. weak one" She commanded hatefully "Breath in the clotted air of these words"
>He remembered what he was told, how one breath would end his life and bit his teeth down
>She shook her head, reaching for his neck, before removing her own green eyed helmet
>And the man gasped immediately as the angel towering over him blessed him with a sight of her true beauty
>Red hair, that he could not see was false, green eyes that even this close he could not see the three pupils in each shimmering orb, delicate features that to him looked like a perfect doll
>because they were, he couldn't notice the marring upon her perfect mask,

Part 5:
>the cracks around the hair line, the aforementioned three pupils, nor the thing her tongue had become, or the purplish hue that leaked from her flesh into her eyes
>all he could see was her sublime grace and beauty as she kneeled in front of him and tilted her head, smiling
"There, breath, breath. You aren't dying, you are surrounded by life, just breath it in and you will not join the others in their graves today" She cooed, pressing a cold finger against his throat as she leaned against her scythe, keeping its blade pointed towards him
>the man did so, slowly, the world turning to a haze as it become hard to drink in the suddenly heavy air
>or do much besides look at the angelic beauty before him
>she smiled at him
"See? I do not lie, you're filling with life now, growing stronger' She chuckled "now why have you entered my sisters garden, so foolishly alone? with only a lazgun to keep you safe"
"Are you an angel" He asked, weakly, feeling a strange drunkeness take him like a fever, but far faster
>her chuckle turned to a laugh, the crawling things under her lips that took her tongue creeping over her pale lips as she did so
"Once, but now I walk among mortal men" She said "And lead them to...salvation, do you want to live, or join my garden"
"I don't wanna die" the man sobbed, feeling his lungs blister and his throat melt as he breath washed over him
> the woman in armor, towering above him nodded and held out her hand to him
"Then come with me, and you shall know new life, with my blessed sister" she said lovingly, but madly
"Is she as pretty as you?" the man asked, thinking this now a dream, his angel laughing madly as all faded black to him, except the lingering image of her smile/
>He dreamed he was back home, with his pretty giant wife carved from marble, with so many kids running through the fields free and care free. with her hair and his eyes. and skin like the grass under their feet
>he dreamed this, as the truth was far worse
>For in reality

Part 6:
>As he slept, he was dragged deeper into the woods, under willow trees with hanging branches of intestines and other viscera, his already rotting flesh picked at by eyeless mosquitoes the size of predatory birds, nurglings chewing at his legs as their aunt softly shooed them away as they neared the lair of her most honored sister
>it was, a horrible place, corpses bloated to the point of being see through like glass, hanging from the canopy of boil covered and cancer ridden rib cages
>Strange lights echoed from their bursting bellies, bathing all in a sickly green light.
>the mossy floor was slick with bile, pus, fat and "birthing juices", which was what the plaguedolls saw the liquidized organs and flesh of their victims as
>fungus and face bearing mushrooms grew along the ground with small heart bearing trees, with which nurglings and other lesser daemons and mutants played, murdered and lounged under
>Snaking vines with razor maws creeped under the plague dolls armored feet,
"Dear sister? have you brought me a new womb?" they whispered in her mind as they crawled up her back, leaving a trail of slime on it and her uncovered face
>the room shook as she smiled and looked up at the great tree that grew in the middle of it, the heart of this blighted forest and the curse upon her world
>her most blessed sister who has not moved since their father had blessed her years before
>her sons stared from the shadows, picking bones of their cousins clean with their bear trap like mouths, their bloated stomachs split to laugh happily at the return of their aunt
>the lesser plague doll fell to her knees, her armor stained with foulness as she clasped her hands together
"Oh mighty sister, oh blessed sister, I come with a new offering to spread your seeds of decay and corruption further! his flesh is a perfect seed bed already, fouled and infected with your gifts, hurry to take him, before his pulse goes quite"

Part 7:
>screams of the victims echo'd down as the Nurgayad twisted her bloated frame, her porcelain skin fused with bark and the flesh of her first victims to make her a veil of "normality" in her form turned truly inhuman and monsterous
"Oh you spoil me, dear sister, tell me, are the rest of our band still spreading our works"
>the lesser plaguedoll nodded and grinned widely
"Oh the corpse worshipers do not even realize we walk among them, soon our harvest shall be complete, their blighted souls will feed your children well"
>an orange glow issued from her eyes, as she moved her eel like protustion away from her sister and spoke with her own lips
>"Is the harvest still... plenty? do more men come to feed themselves to me and my lands?"
"oh of course dear sister, this world is too much for them to give up to dreadful lifeless silence, the feast continues, this harvest is merely meeting its end...but hurry! take him! before he wilts completely"
"Hmmm...soon we will have to leave, but now, let us rejoice as another joins my blessed frame"
"Yes! YES! nurgle blesses us today with a still living body! let us pray, pray it will bear many warriors to fill our ranks with"
>and so they chanted, as veins turned roots burrowed into the comotose mans body, his limbs slowly fused into branches of cancer ridden bone as the eel like limbs of the nurgayad burrowed into his flesh
>and, it is not short of a mercy that her plagued breath trapped him in an unending dream
>for otherwise, he'd see the horror of his own guts spewing for daemonspawned horrors, and copies of himself rotted
>to drag men and women like him back to this "forest god", to be bloated into foul, unholy child bearing "fruit"
>And we should pray
>that she and her sisters are content with keeping their own blighted world, well kept and fed with the fruits of war
>So they never spread their "Seeds" towards the imperium proper, in a crusade of rot and decay.

>Inquisitorial report: End. Note: muster more guard regiments from the natives to keep this war alive
>it would be far worse for Nurgayad of her size to try and spread her roots into the void
>Besides, it makes for good acolytes
>remember to keep this file from my peers, this planet and its cursed inhabitants are too useful for me machinations