A Death Guard warrior stands triumphantly over a defeated opponent.

World of Dozaria
Suburbs of the industrial city of Mygor
6 973 745.M41

The battle began when the aspiring champion of Nurgle, Ghaz Tak, stepped out of the safety of the ruins, making himself known to the Imperial Guard defenders entrenched about 200 meters away.

The guardsmen knew the Death Guard controlled the outer suburbs of Mygor, the strategically important industrial center that had long been a target of the traitors. They were vigilant and spotted the traitor Astartes as soon as stepped into view.

That’s why it took only seconds until Ghaz Tak felt the first lasgun rounds slam into his Terminator armor. He treated the threat with the same contempt he’d show a light drizzle of rain. He ignored it and began striding directly toward the loyalist soldiers.

This bravado was deliberate. Somewhere in these ruins, Typhus, most favored son of Nurgle, was searching for a weak spot in the Imperial defenses. If Ghaz Tak found it, he would gain Typhus’ favor—and, more importantly, perhaps the attention of Grandfather Nurgle himself.

That was all that mattered to Ghaz Tak. Having suffered a number of setbacks in his efforts to garner Nurgle’s favor, he was desperate to show his loyalty and value. He would find a way through the enemy defenses or die trying.

* * *

Lieutenant Gareth Arden watched as more Death Guard warriors came into view. Without turning, he spoke to the voxcaster waiting just behind him. “Get a message to battalion HQ. Traitor Astartes are on the move.”

Arden began counting. Six, eight, ten. Not all that many, he thought. Still, these were Death Guard, genetically enhanced soldiers who had been twisted by the powers of the Warp. This was going to be a nasty fight.

To his right, a heavy bolter roared into action. Good, Arden thought. Gunner Thompson knew his business. There was little chance his men’s lasguns could stop a Space Marine, but the heavy bolter might do the trick . . . with a little luck.

The heavy bolter’s tracer rounds revealed the accuracy of fire. There! Three traitors were bunched up, walking arrogantly in the open, a perfect target. As Arden watched, he could see the bolt shells striking home.

And, yet, although the Space Marines recoiled when hit squarely, they did not falter. They kept moving forward.

* * *

The sorcerer Necrosius watched Ghaz Tak and his men stride forward and felt nothing but contempt. After all these millennia, Ghaz Tak had never grown as a tactician. His ambition and eagerness to serve Nurgle was commendable, but the fool’s repertoire of tactics remained limited to walking directly at the enemy.

Yet, the sorcerer knew, at least for now, his future was tied to the aspiring, if unimpressive, champion. So Necrosius did what he could to assist the attack.

Standing half-hidden in the shadows of a ruined building, he began to chant in a language that few men knew—and even fewer could survive hearing the words.

He felt the power of the Warp swell within him, the taste of decay and dissonance was a pleasure, and with a sense of joy and wonder, he raised his hand and a noxious green cloud of poison appeared in the air before him.

The cloud drifted forward, engulfing the other Death Guard and cloaking them in a shadow that protected them from enemy fire.

* * *

Lt. Arden saw 1st squad withdraw as the green cloud approached. One guardsmen had been too slow, and he was now writhing on the ground as the cloud’s deadly miasma filled his lungs. It took only a moment for the soldier to stop moving.

The crack of a high-powered shot signaled that the platoon’s sniper was at work. One of the Death Guard actually fell to the ground and didn’t get up.

A flash of hope hit Anders, but it soon faded. Two traitor Space Marines had appeared to his left and began providing cover fire for their advancing brethren. Their accuracy was uncanny and deadly. Two guardsmen fell in less than a minute.

One of those deaths was particularly gruesome: the bolt round hit the man in the face, and his entire head vaporized.

The lieutenant yelled at his voxcasster. “Get the reserves up here. I need their plasma guns at position Delta-3. It’s our only chance.”

Click here to read the conclusion of this battle.

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