Let's reject Nurgle, my cute little ones ... Like Nurgle loves her children! As Nurgle loves his little ones ...
- Excerpt from inscriptions scribbled in letters of blood from floor to ceiling in the home of a rich landowner near Nuln. The human wreckage found there moaned, uttered incomprehensible borborygms and seemed to be as damaged in his mind as his body was atrociously mutilated. What remained of this man seemed to triturate with love these many gangrenous wounds, and no one tried to find out how his hands had disappeared.
FOR THE LORD OF DECAY!
It is difficult to understand how one can turn to the worship of Nurgle because this God incarnates rot and despair in its most horrible forms. When an epidemic devastated a community, Grandfather Nurgle was gausse. When a wounded man dies, the stench of Nurgle is never far away. It symbolizes the suffering experienced by every man and woman of the Empire, the fear aroused when a strange outgrowth of flesh appears and grows, when a wound takes on airs of suppurating wound to the hints of death. So why turn to such a foul God? Out of desperation, quite simply.
To understand the power of Nurgle and the place it occupies in the Old World, one must first grasp the way people see the disease. Every epidemic is a curse. It is the lot of those who have a defect, whether it is by birth (most of the epidemics erupt within the roture) or linked to a defect of character. To make matters worse, the sufferers spread their evil to others, to the guilty as well as to the innocent. The only way to deal with the sick is to catch them as contagious and drive them out.
Reactions to the disease began during the Black Death of 1111. This virulent epidemic spread from town to town, sweeping entire communities and literally emptying the countryside. It struck all classes, all sexes and people of all ages. It was a brutal killer, and the Empire could do nothing to stop its spread. If historians put this epidemic on the backs of rats, this calamity has left traces in the minds of the inhabitants of the Old World, the fear of a new wave of disease still shaping the behaviors against it.
When an epidemic occurs, the city forces drive out the sick for fear that contagion will spread. It is customary for these patients to carry a bell around their necks to warn everyone of their condition, and thus allow passers-by time to depart. When the number of bells available is not enough, the sick should shout "Contagious! "Approaching any community. Otherwise, they are liable to death. Due to the hostility it provokes, the disease is not only a death sentence, but also a curse, as many people believe. The sick are driven from their homes and condemned to wandering, depending on alms. Thus, when they do not die of their evil, most perish of exhaustion, cold or hunger.
For centuries, Shallya's priestesses have been working hard to alleviate the suffering of the sick, the fruit of their good works appearing in large cities. Thanks to their efforts, when an epidemic falls on a city, it is closed until the storm has passed. Although this type of quarantine cuts supplies of food, fresh water and basic necessities, people can at least die at home.
But what is a man supposed to do when a nasty bubon appears under the armpit or on the groin? Many should logically look for a physician (whose services are expensive) or a merciful priestess, but few have the option (and even less the gold needed). Realizing that they will never recover and that their fate is sealed, many are overwhelmed by despair. Panic ensues and they try to escape by all means. And that's where Nurgle most often comes in. The latter promises to put an end to the sufferings, to slow the spread of the evil, to relieve the patient in his new form. And given the pitiless nature of the Empire, all relief is welcome.
Le Grand Corrupteur s'efforce d'étendre sa présence dans le monde entier via la peste et la crasse, et son plus ardent désir est de voir le Vieux Monde transformé en une fosse pestilentielle de mort, de décrépitude et de maladie. Il perçoit de la beauté dans toutes les choses immondes, se délectant de l'éclat brillant d'une pustule palpitante et exultant devant la pâleur cireuse d'un mortel succombant à l'une de ses nombreuses contagions. Il considère qu'il est de son devoir de réveiller la beauté secrète qui dort en toute chose, dévoilant les splendeurs cachées de la dégénérescence. Pour le Seigneur des Mouches, la beauté peut être éveillée par ses caresses, et il cherche donc à embellir le monde de sa main bénie. Que gémissent les fous, qu'ils grincent des dents, s'arrachent les cheveux quand la peste balaiera leurs terres et que leurs villes et leurs villages ne soient plus que cendres et décombres ! Ceux qui vénèrent Nurgle se réjouissent de voir leur maître à l'ouvrage, ils ont accepté la futilité de le défier en voulant échapper à la ruine qu'il apporte et ont préféré embrasser les plaisirs de la corruption et de l'entropie. Nurgle est plus généreux en léguant ses maladies aux mortels, qu’il considère avec une grande affection (d’où son sobriquet de « Grand Père »), et il s'assure que riches comme pauvres puissent profiter égalitairement des fruits de son labeur.
Les Commandements
Les disciples de Nurgle sont soumis à peu de commandements en dehors de l'obligation de répandre la maladie et le désespoir dans le monde. Ses préceptes sont les suivants :
Chercher de nouvelles formes de corruption, car ce sont les bénédictions et les signes de la faveur de Grand-Père Nurgle.
Enseigner au monde la générosité et l'amour de Nurgle. Ne pas être avare de ses dons et les partager dès qu'on le peut.
Chercher la beauté en toute chose et, quand on la trouve, s'en réjouir d'une grande allégresse.
Et quand on trouve la beauté, lui faire atteindre la perfection en partageant les bienfaits de Nurgle.
Plaindre ceux qui adorent le Seigneur du Changement, car ils ne connaissent pas le vrai sens de l'extase. Ne jamais manquer de leur transmettre les plus merveilleux des dons, pour partager avec eux l'essence de l'affliction.