The Followers of Mojgorox - Nurgle Ungor

Nurgle Ungor.

Most Beastmen do not follow any particular god, instead they roam the Realms committing evil in the name of Chaos itself. However some tribes do worship their favourite and in return are gifted with the traits of their favourite god. 

Nurgle, the grandfather of plague see's fit to 'improve' his followers with disease, turning skin into maggot ridden flesh and discolouring it green. These Beastmen are blessed with toughness and slight immortality. 

Ungor are lowest down in the pecking order of the Brayherds, scavenging on the remains left behind by their Gor cousins. They roam on the outskirts of the herd not being allowed to enter the sacred circles during rituals, if one comes to close to the worship, he will be sacrificed in the name of Chaos. 

In the dead of night, in the darkest part of the forest, a group of men had set up camp on their travels through the Realm. They were in search of an artefact to aid the wizard of the settlement in locating the sacred Realmgate to leave the primitive land. The air was bitterly cold, the sounds of the forests were of anger and torment. The men huddled together more out of fear than to keep warm, although none of them admitted this. One was set to watch guard but none could sleep. 

An unfamiliar sound came from the trees, the sound of death and disease, a gurgling laughter. 
"Please tell me you heard that" one turned to the other, "Unfortunately, yes I did.." "What could that of been, it is no beast I have heard before". Before they could think of retreating or even drawing their swords, a shadow emerged, a figure stating the height of a man, but grossly mutated, it had small horns, its bowels were hanging from a wound on its gut. its arms were enlarged with puss boils oozing from the muscles. It stood there, head cocked slightly, smiling upon the men. 

One soldier drew his sword and sliced through the demon, cutting a limb from his body, the creature did not flinch, it looked down upon its spasming arm and looked back and laughed a cackling giggle. As he reached for his blade, hosteled in a flap of skin on his leg, the soldier struck again and again until the creature was in at least 5 parts. It fell with a swelch, the blood that spilt, boiled on the ground and some splashed upon the face of the man. He cried in agony and the disease spread upon him. Like acid eating through metal, his skin melted and bruised up. He turned upon his comrades as he fell, they screamed in fear. 

As they did, the rest of the mob of Nurgle Ungors wandered slowly out of the shadows and drew their weapons. The each had a grotesque smile, each "blessed" in different ways. The men swung and connected with the front line, they went down easy, but got back up even easier. Their wounds quickly healed and they charged the soldiers. The battle was short and sweet and before long the Nearby Bray herd was gifted by the Ungor fresh meat. Grandfather Nurgle would be pleased with this ambush and show of disgust. 


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