Within the Mansion of Nurgle, traces of the Great Burn inflicted by the Emperor during the Plague Wars remained visible. Even Nurgle himself found it difficult to mend these scars, for they were the work of the Dark King's destructive authority.
Lucius had not expected the interior of the Mansion to appear so ancient and weathered. It lacked the exuberant, pulsating vitality of the surrounding Garden, feeling instead like an archaic structure abandoned for decades.
Slimux led Lucius deeper into the Mansion. The Nurglings, usually a cacophony of chirps and play, shrank back and scurried into the shadows like pets sensing a supreme predator.
So this is the Mansion of Nurgle. There is nothing particularly special about it at all, Lucius thought, surveying the primitive architecture. His interest waned almost immediately.
Passing through the Great Hall, they entered the Rear Garden. Here, the atmosphere shifted violently, becoming far more horrific than the threshold. Hideous fungi parasitized withered plants that refused to die, while viscous pus nourished swarms of flies and mosquitoes that filled the air with a deafening drone.
In the center of this hyper-proliferating rot, a colossal green titan stood before a massive cauldron, stirring vigorously with a rusted ladle. Beside this giant sat a high-backed chair, so decayed and worm-eaten it seemed on the verge of collapse. Seated upon it was a figure in stark contrast to her harrowing surroundings: a woman with skin as white as porcelain and hair that cascaded like a starlit galaxy. She was exceptionally tall, possessing the distinctive pointed ears of her kin.
The woman's picturesque face was a mask of terror and revulsion as she stared into the cauldron, a vessel containing a thick slurry ten thousand times more foul than the fermented excrement and vomit of a century.
"Grandfather, he has arrived... your guest," Slimux announced, stopping to bow with the practiced grace of a macabre seneschal.
The green titan, crowned with rotting antlers, looked up with a touch of impatience. Upon seeing the entity behind Slimux, his face split into a wide grin. Countless chins, composed of yellowing adipocere and the green, putrid meat of corpses, folded into one another.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Nurgle tapped his ladle against the rim of the cauldron, shaking off the excess sludge before lumbering to his feet. He let out a laugh that was unnervingly hearty and simple.
"Haha... I did not expect you to actually come. Welcome, welcome!" The Grandfather said, patting his gargantuan, distended belly.
From her high chair, the breathtakingly beautiful Aeldari woman turned a gaze of confusion toward the newcomer.
Though no one had introduced her, Lucius would have been a fool not to recognize her. This was undoubtedly Isha, the Mother Goddess of the Aeldari. And by the looks of it, it was time for her "tasting."
Isha studied the black-robed figure, her expression darkening as she contemplated his essence. She was not strictly a prisoner, and though currently bound, she was usually free to move within her cage. She had felt the tremors in the Warp when the Great Horned Rat ascended to godhood. She correctly surmised: Is this the Fifth Chaos God?
Withdrawing his gaze from Isha, Lucius looked at Nurgle's enthusiastic display. To be honest, no matter how disgusting Nurgle or his Garden became, it could not affect him. His authority over Formless Distortion allowed him to twist the state of any rotting matter at will. He could make the foulest bile mundane, or cause the Grandfather's meticulously crafted plagues to deviate entirely from their intended purpose.
"This is my first time visiting you. I hope you don't mind the intrusion," Lucius said with a nod and a smile, refraining from manifesting his Great Horned Rat aspect.
"Hahaha, how could I mind, my friend? I am delighted! It just so happens I have finished a soup. Come, help me analyze it," Nurgle laughed heartily, gesturing toward the cauldron with genuine warmth.
Lucius recalled that this cauldron was supposed to have been destroyed by Ku'gath during the Plague Wars, yet here it was again. Since one must make small talk upon arrival, Lucius stepped forward to inspect the "masterpiece."
As a Chaos God possessing the aspect of the Great Corruptor worshipped by Clan Pestilens, Lucius possessed an inherent authority over such things. Even if he found them personally distasteful, his divine essence understood them, a relationship perhaps similar to that between the Emperor and the Omnissiah.
"Well? Do you think there is room for improvement?" Nurgle asked, looking at Lucius with the expectant eyes of a shut-in who had finally found a fellow hobbyist.
Lucius glanced at the brew. The instincts of the Great Corruptor immediately flooded his mind with the complete chemical and metaphysical profile of the virus.
"The infection rate is impressive," Lucius began, "but the mortality rate is far too low."
Nurgle's face fell instantly. "Mortality? No, no, no, that won't do at all. Every life is precious! You shouldn't think that way; it's quite unkind."
After a brief exchange of trivialities, Lucius moved to the true purpose of his visit. He asked Nurgle what Abaddon truly meant to the forces of Chaos.
Nurgle stroked his chins, pondering. "An interesting toy, I suppose. Without that dear little fellow, the galaxy would be quite dull. You have no idea how boring the Dark King wants to make the universe for the sake of his mortal kin. A galaxy with only humans... too dull, far too dull."
Just a toy? Lucius mused. It made sense. The Four Gods seemed to want the Emperor to become the Dark King simply so he could join them in their Eternal Game. Whether it was Horus or Abaddon, they were merely tools used to coax or goad the Emperor.
"Is that so? Then it wouldn't matter if my rats killed that 'top-knot'?" Lucius asked.
Nurgle shook his head, his sickly orange eyes fixing on Lucius. "Unless you strike personally, it is virtually impossible for a mortal to kill him. He inherited a portion of the blessings we once bestowed upon Horus. Nothing short of a True God can end him."
Ah, the plot armor of the 'Greatest Product Line,' Lucius thought cynically.
Regardless of Nurgle's reasoning, Lucius understood the reality. Abaddon was a prized toy for the Four. If he were broken, some might be furious, while others might not care at all. Furthermore, it was highly unlikely that Clan Rictus could ever truly threaten him.
Nurgle returned to his brewing. After talking with the Great Horned Rat, he found that the rat-god's viruses were far too lethal; they lacked the "nuance" Nurgle desired for his experiments.
Lucius watched as Nurgle finished the batch. With the flourish of a master chef, he ladled a bowl and presented it to Isha.
Seeing the bowl of yellowish-green sludge, the stench of which was overpowering even from a distance, Isha's porcelain face turned a bruised shade of grey. She resisted with every fiber of her being, but after ten millennia, she had largely resigned herself to her fate. She accepted the bowl and forced the contents down.
"Brutal," Lucius murmured, giving a mock thumbs-up.
The horrific virus took hold instantly. Isha's snow-white skin flushed a sickly, jaundiced orange. Every pore began to weep pus and blood. Her galaxy-spun hair turned brittle and fell away in clumps. Her lithe, graceful body withered until she looked as terrifying as a Crypt Ghoul.
Nurgle watched gleefully, immediately signaling Epidemius, the Tallyman of Nurgle, to record the symptoms and incubation periods. Epidemius worked with obsessive diligence, his quill scratching across parchment without a hint of distraction.
Much later, after Epidemius had completed the report and a swarm of Nurglings had presented it to Nurgle, Isha began to slowly recover.
"This... still has room for improvement. The lethality is still a touch high," Nurgle muttered like a research scientist. He turned his attention away from Isha and addressed Lucius. "I shall be busy for a while. Make yourself at home. Feel free to wander my beautiful Garden, just don't start any fires. If you like what you see, you can have Slimux help you plant some flora to decorate your own realm."
With that, he buried himself back in his work. Epidemius cast a single, rot-clouded eye toward Lucius before quickly lowering his head back to his ledgers.
"Gah... cough... ah!"
Isha collapsed, retching foul, putrid blood. Gradually, the fluid cleared, becoming red again. Once her body had fully restored itself, she stood up with an expression of pure despair.
"Hehehe, well done, Goddess!"
"I'm so jealous!"
A swarm of Nurglings surrounded her, their high-pitched, mocking laughter echoing like the voices of cruel children.
Isha ignored them; she was long accustomed to their taunts. She wiped the filth from her mouth and looked at the intrigued Lucius. "Stranger," she said, her voice trembling, "is there something you wish to say to me?"
"Indeed," Lucius nodded. "Come, let's take a walk and talk."
Isha's body shuddered. She said hurriedly, "I... I cannot leave this place. That Dark God is still outside, and I still wish to see my children again."
"Do not worry," Lucius said, his mouth curling into a sharp grin. "I am here specifically to discuss that very problem."
The chattering Nurglings hurried to tell Nurgle that Lucius was taking Isha away, but Nurgle merely shifted his rolls of decaying fat. "I know, I know. Don't disturb me, little ones. Something fun is finally happening, that's all."
——————
If you want to read ahead of everyone, go to my pat-reon: pat-re-on.c-om/magnor (remove the hyphen to access normally)