Chapter 2
The Plague Ship moved through the warp, passing wandering daemons and still planets. Mortarion let these creatures move around him. Some were even playful with members of his crew. Mortarion paid no heed to the whimsical spirits, even those that were not loyal to Papa Nurgle. All he knew was that he could hear the weeping in the warp. He had always heard it, but he had never done anything about it. It was instinctual for the Death Guard to bring joy those suffering from disease and pestilence.
Whoever was crying, he would end their torment. In a cloak of black, he sat upon a giant throne in the middle of the ship's command center. Pale fingers jutted from ruined power armor and a breathing mask covered the lower half of his face. Upon his head was black hood and in his hand there was scythe, which he propped parallel to his chair. Black feathery vulture wings spilled out from the sides of the chair from Mortarion's back.
"Sire, there are Slaaneshi daemons licking upon the windows. Some of them have slipped into the ship and are…trying to distract the crew," said Deathshroud Dengef.
"I have no time for this. Get a sorcerer to do a banishment spell. Any crewman that falls to the sway of Slaanesh doesn't deserve the mercy of Papa Nurgle. He deserves absolute oblivion of his very soul, the gateway to non-existence."
"Yes my lord," muttered Dengef.
A Slaaneshi daemon had managed to enter the room of Mortarion himself. The Primarch did nothing, but glare at it from beneath the shadows of his hood that barely glinted from the light of the warp. The Slaaneshi daemon had a crab-like claw on one arm and a soft hand on the other arm. It was dressed in a very provocative manor. Mortarion was not moved by the lack of clothing. The creature sauntered up to the Primarch in a seductive manor. Mortarion still did not move and Dengef the bodyguard simply shrunk away. Ordinarily the Deathshroud would be protecting the Primarch, but Dengef could feel the rage of the Primarch at that moment.
The Slaaneshi Daemon came up to Mortarion's leg, for a Primarch was huge when compared to an Astartes let alone mere mortals. She nestled up against Mortarion's leg like some kind of cat and rubbed her face against the metallic boot. The other plague marines stared in awe. Not because of the Daemon's beauty, but because of her audacity. She looked at Mortarion with seductive eyes. Her statuesque face was more beautiful than humanly possible. She lifted her claw gently, but the Primarch intercepted the claw with a skeletal hands covered in bits of metal.
The daemon screamed as Mortarion snapped her wrist in a crunch. He then flung the body of the daemon from one side of the throne to the other. He smashed her again and again like a rag doll. On ancient Terra, washer men would rake wet clothes against rocks upon the beach. This is exactly what happened to the daemon. Mortarion left the daemon as a pile of wet broken bones and skin.
"Dengef, throw the remains out the airlock."
/
Deep within the heart of an Inquisitorial Ship the information had traveled from Ultramar that the Daemonifuge had been sighted and that she had awakened the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman. This had been most upsetting news. Ephrael Stern was wanted dead by the inquisition. What if she had corrupted the Primarch? The last time Ephrael Stern had been seen, she had escaped into the Eldar Webway. If she had corrupted the Primarch and Guilliman had turned traitor, then there would be more complications. The Ultramarines had called their banners and now many Guilliman's sons would soon be on their way to the Ultramar system.
"Inquisitor Scrounge, what do we do about this situation?" grumbled the bald Crusader as he hammered his fist of armor onto the table.
"Do?" Answered Scrounge.
"Guilliman may have been corrupted by the forces of Chaos. The Heretic Saint has sunk her claws into him. Now all of Ultramar may have been corrupted. There are nearly two hundred and fifty thousand space marines in this galaxy today who can claim their heritage from Roboute Guilliman. What happens if they get to him before us? How do we solve this problem?!" said Crusader Nicholas.
"We destroy the Ultramarines, but not all their banners. The loss of Macragge would be a detrimental loss for the entire Imperium."
"So what do we do?"
"We do nothing, but wait and watch. Should things get out of hand we will have to summon the other Space Marine chapters, as many as we can. Then we will have a civil war in the Imperium that will be on par with the Horus Heresy. In the mean time though let us not jump to conclusions. Roboute Guilliman may still be loyal. We could be wrong about Ephrael Stern. If things are rotten then we shall keep an assassin ready. If possible we should be able to stop anything unnecessary."
"By the Emperor, Scrounge, are you suggesting the assassination of a Primarch?" Asked Nicholas.
"It may come to that, though I prefer not to. And if we assassinate a loyal Primarch, then I truly fear the Emperor's wrath. It is a risk we take, but the alternative is the corruption of multiple space marine chapters. This could mean a new beginning or the very end of mankind. Our forces are all over the galaxy. The great Tyranid threat, the awakening of Necron Tomb Worlds, The escape of Mag Uruk Thraka. Something is happening across the galaxy that cannot be explained," said Scrounge as he drank a glass of wine.
"Heresy upon heresy, how could this have happened?"
"There is nothing we could have done to have prevented this. Guilliman's body was in the hands of the Ultramarines. This may be the darkest day for the Imperium or it could be the salvation. When observing the history of Ephrael Stern we can see that she has never slain imperial forces unless first attacked. Some believe the Daemonifuge was the important thing since the birth of the Primarchs.
"What about you Scrounge?"
"I do not wish to say at the moment."
"Are you a Thorian?"
Scrounge put down his glass of wine. The Inquisitor looked at the Crusader with a clenched jaw. He didn't need to say any words, the Crusader bowed his head apologetically.
"I am sorry for asking my lord, I won't ask again."
"Make sure you don't," growled Scrounge.
/
Now you maybe wondering how do I, Azhek Ahriman, know all this information. Well to put it bluntly, we will get to all of that later. I don't want to ruin the surprise for you. What is that you say, you are wondering how this can be a tragic story if I am so verbose and cheerful. Dear traveler, sometimes humor belies the darkest of horrors. As for Ephrael Stern, no I did not make her up, you should look up the tome, Daemonifuge, its somewhere in the Black Library. It's a different type of tome with pictures as well as inscriptions. Now please, just let me continue the story.
/
Mortarion and his Deathguard had finally arrived in a place within the warp that had solid land. Now imagine a mass of land floating in the sky. Now try to imagine the impossible. Imagine a flat piece of land that stretched so far, that if it were to be rolled up, it would be size of a planet. The rules of gravity do not apply to the mass crust. Now imagine a jungle far greater than any other. A jungle that dwarfed all other jungles. Imagine a jungle growing in an infinite bright pastel sky of constantly alternating colors as if it did not even require sunlight. This is what Mortarion and his marines saw.
"The Garden of Nurgle," murmured the sorcerer.
"Silence witch," Mortarion threatened. He despised psykers and sorcerers. Though he himself casted disease using daemonic powers, he despised those who chanted spells. Some would say this would make Mortarion a hypocrite, since he himself was a psyker. And you may be right about it. However there is something else you should know, Mortarion hated himself.
"Forgive me my lord," said the sorcerer.
Mortarion turned away from his sorcerer.
"We will travel into the garden. This is a day unlike any other. We, the Deathguard can meet Grandfather Nurgle himself. For years I have heard a weeping in my mind. For some reason, I always pushed it away in my mind. I did nothing about the weeping. I hear the weeping still. Why did I finally decide to do something about the weeping, perhaps it is Nurgle's will. This has now become a sacred mission. Father Nurgle clearly wants us to come to him and meet him personally. I will find the weeper and put an end to their existence. Ours is the duty to bring joy to those who suffer with Father Nurgle's gift and end them, that is the will of Papa Nurgle. When I slay the weeper, Papa Nurgle will bestow his blessings upon us all!" Shouted Mortarion as he raised his fist and the Death Guard gave a glorious shout as well.
/
Malice smiled at the globe in his palm that displayed the visual of Mortarion. The Great Clown and the two Ork Gods all guffawed at how things were going. Horus Aximand stood on Malices shoulder as he witnessed the Gods and their plans. Malice could kill him at any time on a whim, yet he allowed Aximand to bear witness to these events.
"I will cloud Nurgle's vision, he will not even hear the thoughts of Mortarion or his Death Guard as they enter his Garden," said the Clown God.
"Oi and me and Mork is gonna Zog Nurgle in da face before he figures anything out"
"Oi loiks yuzz plan Malice, Kunnin and brutal."
"Oi say itz Brutal and Kunnin."
"Before you two break out into one of you grand episodes of battle. You must attack Nurgle now, in his garden," said Malice.
"Oi, you tellin us what ta do ya panzy git."
"Nope, but if you don't go right now, you're brother will probably zog Nurgle than you Mork."
"Yuzz, tryin ta play wid us, but that a'right. We'll zog you when this is all over."
"Ay, we'll zog you gud," said Gork as he left with his brother.
"If Chaos is destroyed, so shall you be Malice," said the giant clown.
"I want to be destroyed," answered Malice. Aximand widened his brow as he heard this information. This Malice creature wanted to be destroyed. The giant clown laughed as it disappeared into the webway.
"And what will you be doing?" Asked Horus Aximand.
"Now begins your education Aximand."