Plague-Rot-Ravage and Death *Death Guard*

[Vorpal]

Surrounded by the thick smell of decay, the 4th Cohort crept silently through the endless marsh, a constant buzzing of flies surrounding their advance. Thick billowing fog had sat in over the wetlands, serving to obscure their movements. Initial scouting reports indicated a small force of Astartes, Silver Skulls chapter, within the area. Under the command of Chearon Morbidius, they sat low in the dank river, their rebreather equipped helmets barely visible in the dark water. ****her downstream, the combined mechanized might of dreadnought and defiler sat half submerged. For hours the plague marines sat, patiently waiting, nary a single sound emanating from their armor. The faint gibbering sound of nurglings the only indication of their presence. The distant noise of jump packs could be heard, betraying the location of the Silver Skulls. Issuing a brief command, Chearon and the Death Guard leapt into action.

Climbing out of the filthy river, the 4th Cohort advanced towards the Silver Skulls, the outline of their power armor barely visible through the thick swarm of flies. A massive battle cannon shot tore through the fog signaling the assault. Several bolter shots went wide as the Silver Skulls made a vain effort to fire at the advancing plague marines. From beside him Chearon could hear the sounds of nurglings desperately fighting an unseen enemy. Their purpose was served however, as the flanking attempt of the Astartes was foiled by the high pitched screams of the diminutive creatures. Emerging from the fog, Chearon glared at the Astartes scouts before him. Seven plague marines and their commander bore down on them, their filth encrusted power armor coated with the slime and dirty water. Sweeping wide with his scythe, Chearon disemboweled several of the stunned scouts. Further adding to the horrific scene, the daemon bound weapon laughed and sang with delight as the festering wounds slowly corrupted the fresh corpses, dissolving flesh and rusting armor. The onslaught was too much for the recruits, who broke and fled before the might of Nurgle.

Barely a minute passed before a full assault squad bore down on the Death Guard, their jump packs breaking the mist into swirling tendrils as they landed chainswords in hand. Truly Nurgle was pleased however, as the daemon encrusted scythe again swept through, felling half of the squad with a single swing. Again the blade cackled with delight as the Rot slowly spread, rusting metal and killing the plants below. A single marine remained, power weapon in hand, a look of staunch determination on his face. Surrounded by traitors, his dead brethren at his feet, he defiantly charged at the plague priest. As proven before, a single swing was all that was needed, the loyalist's vain attempt to parry defeated as his weapon was cleaved in two.

Suddenly, Chearon's vox unit cackled to life informing him of the rest of his cohort's exploits. Overwhelmed and defeated, the Astartes had retreated into the swamp, with their commander at the lead. Shaking his fist in disgust, he swatted at the nurgling clinging to his shoulder. Pausing briefly to collect the head of the foolish sergeant, he affixed it to his belt and issued the command to search and destroy. No loyalists would be spared this day, his dark mission was far too important for mistakes.

[JoeGuardsman]

Well, right into the action there huh? Cool writing and description, just wish there was some more suspense cause that was a down right whooping.

[Dan296]

know, i know this is fluff/fictional writing and all, but the lords pwnage-ability seems unrealistic. hes fighting space marines, not imperial guard.

[Inquisitor Rosenadel]

Originally Posted by Dan296

know, i know this is fluff/fictional writing and all, but the lords pwnage-ability seems unrealistic. hes fighting space marines, not imperial guard.

A way to allieviate this is to describe the fight a little more. You said half of a full assault squad (10/2 = 5) was killed, so there must have been some other marines left. This presents a good opportunity to tell through words about the True Grit ability the Death Guard have:

"The assault Marines bit in with their chainswords and bolt pistols, denting and tearing the armour of the Death Guard. But their great bloated bodies absorbed all but the most horrific wounds. The disease-ridden warriors fought back with their own chainswords, and fired their bolters, one-handed and point-blank. Heads rolled at the swings of chainswords, and innards liquefied as bolt rounds tore through them."

Kinda like that. But I like how you describe the sword as cackling with joy at the disease spreading. Very good!