The Emperor’s Angel of Death

On the Terminal, in a rotting, cyst-like room, a bloated figure was contemplating.

The thick and decaying Terminator armor on his body is covered with eternal dirt from the time of the Horus rebellion ten thousand years ago. The chimney symbolizing the plague grows from behind, and slowly spews out the miasma of destruction. Huge flies came in and out of the gaps in his armor.

After a moment, the bloated giant raised his head slightly, and on his helmet full of cracks, a huge single horn drew a trajectory in the foul air.

The air here is so viscous, so deadly, that ordinary life would fester just by touching it, but for this giant it was as comfortable as a sauna.

But now he has no time to enjoy all this, he is communicating with a mysterious existence.

it has no face

Or, at least he couldn't make out its face.

Every time he tried to focus on the other person, the facial features of that presence became blurred, like an overexposed image.

If he squinted at him and slid his focus past it, he could see certain features in it, though not very noticeable—he could see a dark green body, and a rotten branch

But each time his gaze came closer, trying to discern more, the other's face gradually became hazy.

He was like a ghost, floating, weightless and physical, unbound by the flesh, hiding himself in protective spells and rituals, but the vague child-like face turned to him he,

The figure looked at him, so powerful that it pierced his defenses effortlessly.

"Destroy the nest..."

It said in a language long dead but still intelligible:

"The dead wood is growing."

The next moment, a spasm brought him back to his body on the Terminus, and in that instant he was in two places at once.

He could smell the thick incense surrounding him, hear the chants of the priests around him, and feel the vibration of the ship's engines, but he was also in the vast ocean of the unfathomable warp, and visions carried him Once there, wrapped in a murky darkness and a void filled with that mighty will.

But then the vision began to crack like a flawed crystal, leaving only the face with an indistinct presence, approaching him, feeling uneasy, but unable to look away.

He could see its eyes now, and it allowed him to look at them too, gleaming in the unfathomable darkness, piercing his gaze like needles.

He began to try to escape, back into his own body, but the other party grabbed him and trapped him with will.

At this moment, the face of the other party is now very close, filling his field of vision, shaking violently and flickering in front of him.

The dizzying sequence of images of that moment, the feelings and emotions that flashed through his mind, overwhelmed everything, and it showed him these things, wanted him to see them.

Then, when he returned to his body, he couldn't recall exactly what he had seen, and all he was left with was a vague feeling, the burning yellow-green sky, the repressed hum of countless demons.

He cannot understand them without context, nor can he know their purpose.

But he had already remembered the words.

"The dead wood is growing."

Then the other's bloated hands pushed him away, sending his soul galloping through the void, spinning uncontrollably, severing the images and feelings that appeared like lightning.

When he actually returned to the Terminus, the man who was replaced by Typhons smiled.

"Praise the Father."

Praising the Eternal Plague Father, Typhons rose to his feet, and above his head, a rotten cherub with fly compound eyes exhaled a dizzying plume of smoke, which he inhaled.

He awoke from a lucid dream, letting the smoke coil in his lungs, the incense deadly to the weak.

But for the plague lord, it was little more than a little help in communicating with the natives of the warp, and the poison contained in it helped open up his soul to better allow them to more easily express their wishes.

Still, the messages they convey are often confusing and difficult to discern.

But for Typhons, it wasn't too difficult.

Typhons, also known as Voyager Typhons, was called Karas Typhon when he was a Space Marine from Barbarossa.

But almost no one knows that Callas Typhon has the blood of a wizard, which also gives him the psionic talent that Mortarion, the Primarch of the Fourteenth Legion, hates the most. Because of his adoptive father, Mortarion does not Favors the use of psionic power, and believes that it is not a power a warrior should rely on.

So Typhons learned to suppress his psionic talent without a teacher, and disguised himself well, but the seeds of his dissatisfaction with the Primarch had already been quietly planted.

After becoming a Space Marine, Typhon's performance was very outstanding. No matter how fierce the battle, his spirit and body would be very tough, so Mortarion quickly promoted him to the first company commander, but this was not the case. Instead of letting him be grateful to his Primarch, he dedicated his loyalty to another being.

God of Plague, Nurgle.

During the Great Heresy, Karas Typhon set a trap to trap the main fleet of the Death Guard Legion in the warp, and then the plague began to spread between the Legion and the ships, tormenting every Death Guard, while Kara S Typhon, on the contrary, absorbed all the power of the plague and became the container of ultimate decay.

His body swelled as a result, his skin merged with his armor, and Karas Typhon became Typhons, Lord of the Destroyed Fly's Nest, and he led his Legion into the abyss of eternal decay.

After the death guard collectively threw himself into the arms of Nurgle, Typhons was still the master of the first plague of Dalian, UU reading www.uukanshu. com and steered the also corrupted battleship Termina.

After the death of Horus, the Heresy was defeated, and the Death Guard retreated to the Eye of Terror.

However, Typhons was disgusted by the Plague Planet shaped by the Primarch Mortarion according to Barbarus. He thought that Mortarion was too sentimental, so he led an army away from the new home planet and went to the benevolent father Nurgle. in the name of spreading blessings that they do not deserve to the Empire of Man.

Mortarion showed rare tolerance for Typhons' departure, letting his son, who had been disobedient to him, leave to create his own value, because he would not repeat the mistakes the Emperor had done to him.

From that day on, the two formed a tense and delicate relationship, with Typhons returning to fight under Mortarion's command when necessary, and at other moments, Typhons could plunder wantonly in the Empire.

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