In the Garden of Nurgle

 In the Garden of Nurgle

Footsteps sounded across the ruined streets. It sounded like the crunching of snow, but it was actually the soft crunch of rubble, ash, and mycelium. Just a week ago the district was a recreational park, surrounded by low rise gothic structures. Now the buildings lay ruined, most roofless, many with but a single wall remaining. Great rocks and chunks of rubble littered the ground, which was covered in an off-white blanket of fungal growth. A soft, ambient whining sound accompanied the otherwise unsettling silence.

From many spots on the ground sprang great fungal growths resembling rose bushes, and from within some of the ruins great seaweed-like daemonic flora grew, budding with putrid pink flowers that oozed noxious pollen. The air was thick with the foul miasma, cloying the area with green fog, and where it condensed on walls it ran down like mucus. No mortal human could survive breathing the poisoned air here. The overgrown weed-things made the place look like a nightmarish orchard, but there was a strange sense of beauty to this newly forming Garden of Nurgle.

The footsteps grew nearer, slightly muffled by the green haze. Soon silhouettes faded into view, and thirteen figures made their way into a clearing, fanning out into a V formation. Clad in rusting snot-green armour, the Chaos Space Marines wandered into the gloom. They were the proud warriors of the Spawn of Skabyris, and at their helm was their squad’s Champion, Unkelbach. Peering through the murk they slowly advanced. The foe was stalking the mire just as they were, ready to pounce at any moment. The Space Marines had landed earlier in the day, their dropships sighted from the outskirts of the city, no doubt intent on purging the area of its contagion.

Unkelbach waved his power scythe as a signal and the group split into two groups of six, Unkelbach himself walking alone.

Brushing past an overhanging bush he swept across the ground of a collapsed ruin, the flowers of the weed wheezing out a cloud of brown-gold pathogen. One great bud atop the stalk opened up into a chalice of putrefying liquid like an obscene birdbath. Taking time to observe the beauty of the daemonic bloom around him, Unkelbach smiled beneath his gasmask-like helm.

He snapped out of it as his moment of reverence was cut short by bolter fire from his right. Pushing out of the overgrowth, he braced himself for battle. One of his men had already fallen. Their attackers crouched in formation behind the remains of an arched window, the position partially obscured by the foul smelling fronds of a weed-thing. The Space Marines crouched, clad in tan armour, firing in rank. One of their number let off a frag missile from a shoulder mounted launcher, the explosion knocking more Spawn to the ground.

By now all of Unkelbach’s men were returning fire, advancing slowly from cover to cover as they laid down barrages of bolter rounds. Another frag blast shook the ground, though the aim was off. Thanks to the choking miasmas, it was difficult to see even with the augmentations and equipment of an Astartes. An explosive bolter round clipped Unkelbach in the shoulder, another lodged into his abdomen. Although they ripped into his flesh, it was already long rotten from long years of dedication to Nurgle. The blasts took him back but he felt no pain, shrugging off the assault and charging forward.

His men split back into two fire teams, one of them setting down behind a stone wall formed from rubble. The others moved forward to charge the encamped Marines. In a sudden wave of heat they stopped in their tracks, one of their number engulfed in flaming promethium fired from the loyalist’s flamer. Blinded by the brightness of the flame, they fell back into cover.

Already two down, Unkelbach vaulted a window pane into the Astartes’ building, swinging his scythe about. Clipping the golden pauldron of their Sergeant, he spun around ready for combat. The Sergeant barked for the Space Marines to maintain their fire, whilst he himself readied his power axe for combat.

Outside another missile erupted, but this time it had found its target and another two Spawn collapsed, shredded to pieces by the blast. The return salvo felled one of the loyalists, his screams echoing around the ruins as the cursed round morphed into a pulsing maggot, boring deep into his flesh.

Unkelbach spun the haft of the scythe in his hands, daring the Sergeant to strike first. The livery of the other warrior identified him as one of the Feles Iratus, a Chapter from far beyond this sector, but Unkelbach couldn’t recognise the Company, or “Pride” as the Feles called it. It seems the Imperials were desperately calling in allies from outside the sector to repel the Black Crusade.

The Feles Sergeant dived forward, bringing his axe up in a wild swing for Unkelbach’s head, but leaving him extremely off-balance. Blocking the blow with the handle of the scythe, Unkelbach booted his foe in the chest and knocked him back. Unkelbach risked returning a swing whilst the Sergeant was floored, but the nimble warrior deftly rolled out of the way.

In the courtyard the exchange of fire rumbled on, staccato bolter fire echoing through the mist. A sudden bang sounded from within the Space Marine lines and the Imperials paused for a moment. The putrid moisture in the air had begun to clog their weaponry with the same thick slime that coated the walls. A single misfire had shattered one of their bolters, taking a Marine out with it as the shrapnel impacted into his skull.

Before the pause in cover fire went on for too long the warrior wielding the flamer popped up and laid down a wall of fire, immolating the plant-thing in front of them and igniting another of the Spawn.

Unkelbach by now was gaining the upper hand, timing his lumbering great blows to throw the Feles off kilter. Dodging a few swings of the axe, he landed a cut on the leg of his opponent. Feigning injury for a moment, the Sergeant allowed Unkelbach to drop his guard slightly before rushing him, tackling the Champion to the ground and pummelling him with an elbow before bringing the axe blade down. It bit into the Chaos warrior’s chestplate, but Unkelbach didn’t feel the pain as it sliced through his sloughing flesh.

Instead he headbutted his opponent and forced the Sergeant off him. Using his bare fists to smash into the helmet of the Sergeant over and over, Unkelbach cackled softly before the Feles warrior wrangled free.

“Your false gods have condemned you. This city will be cleansed by fire, but first I take your head from your body, fiend!” the Sergeant shouted.

Unkelbach wordlessly swung his scythe back around to force the warrior back, and then readied himself. Behind the Sergeant he could see the tide had turned and the Space Marines were now losing more casualties. The flamer wielding warrior let out great gouts of fire to keep the Spawn at bay, but was hit in the neck by a well-placed bolter round. As his headless corpse sank to the ground, the Sergeant turned to them.

“Pounce, brothers. Kill as many as we can. May His instinct guide you in the hunt!”

The five remaining Feles leaped over their cover and began to charge on the Spawn, bolters blazing. The first to vault the rubble wall let out a mighty roar and planted a combat knife into the skull of the first Chaos Space Marine he saw, then drawing his bolt pistol as the skewered fiend dropped dead. Swinging back around to double tap on the trigger at the next Spawn, he suddenly keeled forwards as bolter fire ripped open his torso from behind. As his corpse crumpled to the ground his squad mates vaulted over the threshold, pistols firing.

Unkelbach had the Sergeant on the defensive now, a cornered lion unable to lash out. With a flourish and a flick of the scythe the Feles leader’s axe went crashing to the floor. On the return blow the Marine was floored, slashed wide open at the chest. The Sergeant lifted a hand to his helmet, activating a vox-channel. He voxed through to a vessel above whilst staring up at the ever-silent Unkelbach.

“Tactical Squad Gatta down. Cleansing failed, commence fail safes. May your instinct guide you in His will.”

Unkelbach stayed his blow for a moment as he realised what was about to happen. The Sergeant below him began to laugh and snarl, unlatching his helmet and casting it aside to mock Unkelbach with his wide grin. His black skin was covered in sweat and blood, his nose a ruin from when Unkelbach had slammed into it with his fists, but most of all he had a wide grin. His teeth, partially shattered from the fight, formed a mocking smile as the air around them darkened. He let out a loud, hearty laugh.

“I will hunt your soul in the Warp, traitor. You cannot escape a lion’s wrath!”

Suddenly the miasma billowed into thick green streams as a hurricane force gale hit the area. Before Unkelbach could look up the world became dazzling light as the first orbital bombardment hit.