The Makchang ShedMany champions of Chaos have highly particular predilections. Kharn the Betrayer had a fondness for killing anyone within range of Gorechild; Ahriman had a penchant to collecting arcane knowledge; Lucius had a preference in searching for the next fulfilling sensation and, most relevant to this story, Typhus had a tendency at eating in low-budget restaurants found at the edge of the galaxy.The Makchang Shed by annemarie
It was because the Champion of Nurgle could not taste many things – in part to his ravaged taste buds – that he sought out eateries where potent spices filled many of the dishes. When another Black Crusade was called and the Herald of Nurgle answered, Typhus deplored the ‘culinary arts’ of the head chef. The pasty substance paraded as food was little more than glue, the meat questionable, and the beverages little more than sludge taken from the ship’s bilks. Typhus found himself eating out more often than not. To stretch out his income, he dined at a dingy restaurant whe
Blighted"One of the greatest diseases is to be nobody to anybody."Blighted by annemarie
- Brother Quinrel, Missionarus Galaxia
Nurgle's love was humanity's bane. Those in suffering turned to the Plague Lord for relief and succor. Bloating with concern, necrotic arms embracing sore-covered flesh, pus-heavy lips kissing the pain away; Nurgle's love was boundless. Under the power of the Lord of Decay, death was nothing. The transience of life passed, and under Nurgle's paternal gaze, bloomed into something greater. Souls taken in the Grandfather's name were well-cared for spirits. Let the Imperium's clergy preach their hopeless doctrines. Papa Nurgle was the most involved out of any deity in the plight of mortals. He answered when no one else would.
Typhus was Nurgle's herald. In a galaxy bereft of the Emperor's fatherly protection, Typhus spread the epidemic of freedom unto the Imperium. Host of the Destroyer Hive, Typhus endured, unloved and unwelcomed by the people he freed of their mortal prisons.
The Santiaga Path1745 hoursThe Santiaga Path by annemarie
The world stitched itself back together from the devastating explosion. Lumen strips flickered, sporadic flashes of light illuminating the twisted battleground the shuttle deck had become.
Vavru'galuch, the Nekulli bounty hunter, stood protectively over the Sister of the Void. He tracked the daemonic spirits as the Geller field, surging to life, pulled them back out of the ship and banished them into the swirling Warp. Hissing a threat, the xeno watched gaping fanged maws snap ineffectually at the shimmering barrier. Black eyes as deep as any abyss and brimming with malevolence, the daemons stared at what had been their prey moments before. Monstrous claws raked against the Geller field, testing its strength. Finding no weaknesses in the newly repaired defences, the daemons circled beyond the vessel's hull to wait for another chance to strike.
"Emperor protects," Vavru'galuch growled.
He kept his modified lasgun close. The small las-cannon mounted on his right shoulde