Dirt
Vyrraki roared as she crawled towards the village. Her size and bulk alone would be no match for the peasants of this land, but Ghungus was wiser than that. He wouldn’t deny fresh food for his gift and fresh recruits for the pox-crusade. Finding the balance between the two was a different story.
With the village in its path towards the Tzeentch encampment, the Order of Rot decided to march straight through the town square in a show of force to impress and intimidate the townsfolk. To Ghungus, they were of poor stock with their bent backs and scrawny bodies. Yet being picky in this unknown region wasn’t an option. To establish a new Duchy and build the crusade’s strength, the Order needed warriors and workers of all kinds. Perhaps these humans would surprise him, he thought.
Outside the village, the townsfolk tolled away in fields of mud. Whatever they were doing, Ghungus thought they seemed spirited at it. That had to count for something. He stepped into the muddy fields and spoke.
“Come hither mortals, for I, Ghungus Slugbiln, am here to spread the message of the Great Grandfather and recruit you to his grand crusade! Who among you leads this congregation?” Silence. The peasants seemed to be ignoring him. He spoke again.
“I said, who among you leads this community of spirited workers?”
An elderly woman finally pipped up in an irritating voice.
“Oh, we don’t have one,” she said. “We’re just an autonomous collective of rural families who shifts responsibilities amongst each other. We can offer you some fresh dirt if you like.”
“Is this all you have?” he asked.
She responded,
“Yes. We are dirt farmers. Dirt is where we came from and dirt is where we will end our lives.”
Confused, Ghungus took a breath before continuing. “What do you mortals call yourselves?”
“We have no name. We are just the people of Dirt,” the woman explained. “Our ancestors have been here for as long as we can remember. All we do is farm the dirt here and give it to travelers who happen upon our village.”
“Wait, Dirt is what you humans call your town?” said a curious Ulcerius.
“Yes. In fact, we use dirt for other things too, like our beds, pillows, buildings and food. It’s good dirt. Give it a try.”
Ghungus snatched the dirt from her hands and examined it. It was good soil, one that could be used to sprout Feculent Gnarlmaws and other grub crops for the crusade. He even tasted the dirt, which wasn’t as terrible as he expected.
“We’ll take all your dirt then,” said Ghungus. “You are now under the protection of the Order of Rot. Glory will be yours in the name of the Great Grandfather.”
“I already have a grandfather. He’s back in town counting dirt,” quipped a man.
“I’m grandfather to seven children. You referring to me?” said another peasant.
“No, I-” Ghungus spoke before being interrupted.
“Like dirt he means you!” shouted another man. “I’m grandfather to 15 townsfolk. He obviously thinks of me as a great grandfather.”
“No, I meant our deity, Nurgle, grandfather to all of us.”
“He’s not my grandfather,” said the woman. “I’ve never heard of Burgle.”
“My lord said Nurgle, my lady. Not Burgle,” said the squire Ponsey.
“Burgle sounds better,” said the woman.
“I like Burgle too. He sounds like a cheery fellow,” said another peasant.
More people gathered around asking the blightkings questions like “Is Burgle made of dirt?” or “Does Burgle a God of Dirt?” and “What’s a Burgle?”
This disgusted Ghungus. How dare they besmirch Nurgle’s name. And how was Burgle even a thing? He was tempted to order his warriors to sack the town and salt the earth as a final insult to the people of Dirt, but Morbisa the Grubhearted spoke up.
“Yes, children of the dirt. Burgle goes by many names, but he is God of dirt, life, and death. Life begins, nurtures, strengthens and ends with dirt. You honor him with your lives. Now serve him for a cause greater than your own.”
This seemed to quiet the crowd as several people congregated to discuss the sorceress’s words. After a minute, the group had their answer.
“We like this one,” said the elderly woman. “She understands Dirt, and so does Burgle. We will gladly serve you and the Great Grandfather of Dirt. May he strengthen the earth and bless our soil for all eternity.”
The townsfolk cheered and threw dirt in the air. The Blightkings looked at one another and simply nodded, while a handful gave a half-hearted cheer.
Regaining his wits, Ghungus stepped forth to retake command. “Splendid. Nur-...I mean,” he gritted his teeth as he spoke the word reluctantly, “...Burgle… has asked us to find an artifact, a blessed item to retrieve a rare liquid we can use to bring his gifts to others.”
“You mean a spoon?” said one of the elderly men. “Can we use it to scoop dirt too?”
It took everything Ghungus had not to strike down the human, but he resisted the urge, and sternly replied, “Yes....but it’s in danger. Foul forces seek to steal Burgle’s artifact and do terrible things to it before we can find it. We seek to end their threat once and for all.”
“Speak no more. We shall aid your quest to find this spoon and eliminate those who would insult Burgle the Dirt God.”
With that, the people of DIrt welcomed the Order of Rot into their village and set to work. The villagers were unaware that their enthusiasm would forfeit their lives to Nurgle’s cause, but Ghungus didn’t mind. He had great plans for Dirt. Here he would plant the roots of his pox-crusade and would see it grow until nothing but dirt covered the continent, no, all the Archipelagos.
At some point, the spoon would sprout, but for now, conquest was all.
Owner= Ghungus Slugbiln
Username= johniadevaia
Faction= Maggotkin of Nurgle
Kingdom=N/A
Focus= Economy
1. Passively Generates 1 RS per week.
Settlement Tier= 3
1. Adds 3 to the Siege Attack/Defense Score.
2. Passively Generates 3RS per week.
3. Increases your total renown by 30.
Username= johniadevaia
Faction= Maggotkin of Nurgle
Kingdom=N/A
Focus= Economy
1. Passively Generates 1 RS per week.
Settlement Tier= 3
1. Adds 3 to the Siege Attack/Defense Score.
2. Passively Generates 3RS per week.
3. Increases your total renown by 30.
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