A Son of Atrophy, in his disgusting mechanical glory.
“The battlebarge entered real space once more, now no longer the pride of an imperial fleet, but now a crude mockery of its form. Covered in the almost spider-like mesh of metal melting into metal, a perverted shape of a vessel it no longer was. The marines were long gone, no longer real men; it was hard to tell where armor gain and flesh began. Cybernetic augmentations made to replace the rapidly growing mutation had failed. The metal had once been covered in rapidly oxidizing orange rust, to now, dark black pitting, bony growths began to fill voids and reinforce parts like a crude armor. Gone were the proud and mighty 9th company of the basilisk lords; now all that was left were skeletal bodies in suits of armor they couldn’t truly escape from. No mercy for them, no relief. The pain of the decay was almost as bad as that of the betrayal. They had only the name of their new slaver on bony plates where their lips used to be, “Nuuuurrrrrglllee” and a purpose, a destiny. If the God Emperor, the Omnissiah, would leave them to die and to suffer under the yoke of chaos, then all of mankind would too. They would dedicate everything left to the shared goal of making sure every living soul in the galaxy would have to suffer like they did, to feel every single inch of torment as Grandfather Nurgle’s gifts would work upon the living. They would never rust until all of life was pained into undeath. Their pauldrons now branded with the mark of their damnation, Atrophy, for they were its sons.”
Art done by @afnm_sm_, Thank you and thank you all for the support!
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
