The Spoon Crusade- Vyrraki, the Wurm Bastion

Vyrraki, the Wurm Bastion

The air choked of humidity and smelt like mire, but Ghungus couldn’t comprehend what part of the Mortal Realms they had traveled to. Ghungus had traveled far and wide but never had he experienced this land before. Could this be the fabled Garden of Nurgle? The swampland here felt similar to the tales he had been told in Mukkenmire. Then again, he had also heard of how silly Nurgle’s domain could be, where the rules of the Mortal Realms didn’t exist in the Great Grandfather’s Garden.

“No, this isn’t it,” he said to himself. “Perhaps Ghur then, or-”

“My lord, might I ask a question?” asked his squire Ponsey.

“Not now, Ponsey!” snapped Ghungus. “How many times have I told you never to break my contemplation?”

Ponsey reeled back anticipating a punch. “My apologies my lord. It was just-”

“How am I, Ghungus Slugbiln, supposed to plot our next course of action if you break my concentration?”

“I was only relaying a message from Ulcerius! He has finished scouting the area!

Ghungus stopped himself before continuing his ranting.

“Oh? Well then Ponsey, you should have spoken earlier. I will meet with Ulcerius promptly. We shall see what he has learned about this curious place.”

Ghungus leapt from the small hill he stood on and walked back to the makeshift camp where his warriors rested.

They had come ashore from the sea and disassembled their boat for shelter. The warriors of Mukkenmire had to be skilled oarsmen to maneuver the fjords of Hysh and the Lumineth’s nimble vessels. While their boats were slow, they were made of durable rotwood. It wouldn’t take long to construct a settlement or hasty fortifications with the material. Ghungus felt they would need more for the journey ahead and jotted in his mind to find amble trees to infect.

The Blightking walked through the makeshift camp until he reached Ulcerius Boilborn. Ghungus would never admit it publically, but he was glad to have a seasoned knight like Ulcerius mentoring him on this crusade. Like Ghungus, several knights and warriors were recent additions to the Order of Rot. Ulcerius had fought during the Realmgate Wars and joined the Order at the request of his friend and founder Morbidus Bileskin.

“Hail Ulcerius. What have you and your knights uncovered?” asked Ghungus.

“It’s as the hooded mortal said,” replied Ulcerius atop his rotfly. “This land is largely unsettled and uncharted. Many civilizations we spotted in our flight were small villages or what one could consider a small city. One of Grandfather’s Great children could merely roll through most of these places without much trouble. Strange thing is, we saw no signs of what realm we are in. The hooded man appears to speak the truth. We are not in any of the Eight Realms, nor the Eight Points.”

“Unfortunate,” said Ghungus. “This makes our job more difficult, but we have sworn to find Horticulus’ Artifact before returning to-“

“You mean the ladle?” said Ponsey. Ghungus answered with a swift kick with his bloated leg, sending his squire to the ground.

“Do not interrupted me again Ponsey or I will smother you with my mass!” snarled the Blightking.

“Forgive me my lord!”

He hated that truth. That the fabled Lady of Mukkenmire, a seer of Nurgle, had sent Ghungus Slugbiln on a quest to retrieve a spoon. A god’s dammed spoon that some no-named daemon discarded once they finished eating diseased porridge. He could use a daemonic skinpouch or even a blessed bucket to retrieve a sample of Ushrac’s Misery. But no, a spoon! Even now, the Blightkings of Mukkenmire mocked him and his pox-crusade. He’d have the last laugh when this was over.

“Ghungus?” asked Ulcerius.

“Ah, forgive me Ulcerius. I was contemplating,” said Ghungus as he gathered himself. “Er, what’s notable features have you seen around us?”

“Well the mire we’re in is massive. Easy to get lost here if we’re not careful. We are between two rivers that snake further north from a body of water. We are several days march if we travel northwest, but there is something familiar you should know. My rotfly sensed it just as I did: a realmgate!”

Several Blightkings had gathered around their leaders and began murmuring amongst themselves. One of the Blightkings shouted, “Our way home!” which drew nods of agreement.

“It won’t be that simple,” said the sorceress Morbisa the Grubhearted as she inserted herself into the discussion. “The magics of this land are different. While I can access the powers of the Great Grandfather, I cannot manipulate the powers of a realmgate as if we were in the Mortal Realms. We will need to gather our strength before attempting such a feat.”

She continued, “However, I sense something familiar, unnatural nearby.” She snorted and spat an acidic wad of phlegm that boiled on the ground. “The followers of the Changer of Ways are nearby. I can sense their foul presence in my leeches.”

“Morbisa speaks the truth. I have seen their camp to the south,” said Ulcerius. “They appear to be just as disillusioned to this place as we were, but it doesn’t seem they are aware of our presence yet.”

“I say we slay them all in the name of the pestilent one!” shouted Thrombule the Poxbrume. More Blightkings and even their squires cheered and took up similar chants.

Ghungus raised his fist, silencing the voices. “We will crush the Tzeentch camp when we are ready. We have only taken our first steps into this uncharted lands and Nurgle knows who or what else we will encounter. There could even be these mythical gargants that stories speak of.”

“Uh my lord, about that…” Ulcerius was about to begin before Ghungus resumed his ranting.

“Do not forget our mission warriors of the Rot. We come to search for the Holy Ladle of Horticulus. Nurgle’s Seven Deadly Plagues. For now, we set out to gather resources and more recruits for the Order before taking the fight to the weaklings of Tzeentch.”

A delayed cheer blurted out from the gathered crowd. Not the reaction Ghungus expected, but good enough for now.

“But my lord, how will be journey across this land? We cannot carry materials on our own and still be expected to fight,” said his squire.

“Allow me to amend that, squirling” said Morbisa. The sorceress pulled out a jar from her robes, opened the lid and dumped a small rotwurm onto the earth. She stepped back, incited a spell and aimed her hand at the insect. A green cloud emerged and the rotwurm began to grow until it reached the size of a large merchant boat. Morbisa then stabbed her staff into the rotwurm’s side and climbed on top.

“A gift from my lady,” said Morbisa. “Vyrraki will bear our burden across these lands. Her strength will grow with ours. Treat her well, and she will bring your warriors great distances and protect us when battle comes.”

Ghungus stepped forward and placed his hand on the now-husky rotwurm. Vyrraki hesitated at first before easing, like a new pet showing respect to its new owner.

The blightking smirked.
“Nurgle blesses our pox-crusade! Onwards my warriors! For the Lady and the Ladle!”

“For the Lady and the Ladle!” roared the Rotbringers.