Nurgle - Lord of Plague: Nurgle is one of the four major Chaos Gods of the Immaterium. He is most commonly called the "Lord of Decay," but is also known by countless other titles and names including the "Fly Lord," the "Plague Lord," the "Great Corruptor," and the "Master of Pestilence." The power of Nurgle is ultimately embodied in entropy, morbidity, disease and physical corruption.Of the four great Ruinous Powers Nurgle is said to be the one most involved with the everyday lives of mortals. Through the gifts of raging fevers and shaking chills Nurgle's hand is upon them from cradle to grave. Few mortals escape the touch of Nurgle in their lives. The Plague God is sometimes called the "Lord of All" because all things, no matter how strong and secure, fall to physical corruption and entropy in the end.Every Chaos God embodies within the Immaterium the hopes, fears and other strong emotions generated by mortal beings in realspace. In the case of Nurgle, their fear of death and disease is the source of his greatest power. The mortals' unconscious response to that fear, their desperation to cling to life no matter the cost, gives Nurgle an opening into their souls. The whispered prayer of a parent over a fever-struck child, the anguished pleas of the dying man for one more day of life; these are meat and drink to Nurgle. The power of Nurgle waxes and wanes as his pandemics sweep across the galaxy.When untold billions fall prey to the newest plagues, the Plague God's strength can overshadow that of any of the other Chaos Gods, even Khorne, for a period. At other times the power of Nurgle withers away to lay quiescent until circumstances are ripe for it to erupt forth once more.There is nothing in all of Creation that does not decay. No civilisation forever endures the machinations of its rivals. No king survives the plotting of his enemies. No life avoids decay. Not even the False Emperor, with all His deluded sacrificial supplicants and thousands of attending Tech-priests, will elude the ravages of time and His eventual demise. The question is what happens when the end comes. Nurgle is the answer to that question.Each inevitable ending brings with it an equally certain start to something new. When a Catachan Spiker traps and consumes a careless Imperial Guardsman, the life of the soldier ends and a new Spiker grows. Rotted flesh that sloughs from the arm of a diseased underhive ganger is left in the sewers to feed the plague-rats that scrape out a miserable existence in those dark, maggot-filled tunnels. Even a Rogue Trader whose contract is terminated must seek out new avenues for commerce. There is no ending that does not result in the hope of renewal.It is because of this inescapable fact of life that Nurgle is known to many as the "Lord of All," for there is nothing that transpires anywhere that does not serve his ends. Truly there is no being, no action or outcome that does not further Nurgle's aims. In truth, Nurgle could simply sit back and wait for the universe to unfold according to his design. He is not content, however, to wait. He has too much energy, too much enthusiasm for his work to just sit idly by.From deep within his manse he brews contagion, both physical plagues and virulent ideas, that he and his followers then unleash upon the mortal realm. He welcomes the resistance of those who attempt to deny him, for each time they erect defences against his advances, he learns new ways to circumvent the opposition. Each cure breeds a newer, more powerful disease. Every victory for his enemies is pyrrhic, coming at a cost so great that it leaves the defenders open to the tender predations of Nurgle's ever-evolving poxes. This is the nature of Nurgle. Resistance is self-defeating. Change is a delay, nothing more. Running and denial only buy time at a cost of suffering, and time has no meaning in the Realm of Chaos.Records of the many sentient species of the galaxy often say that Nurgle corrupts, that he brings ruination to all. To a small extent, they are correct, but their evaluation is narrow in scope and fails to grasp the greater truth. The more primitive races have a much better understanding of the undeniable nature of the Master of Certitude. Life is struggle and erosion. To face the dawn is to await the dusk and, in turn, to endure the night.On a grander scale, if a being had the luxury of observing the rise and fall of empires, of seeing the birth of suns and their eventual collapse into swirling masses of cosmic destruction, the observer would surely recognize the rightful place of Nurgle as the Shepherd of Destiny.It is only Nurgle's fondness for rot, for the unpleasant nature of disease and decay, that prevents more from accepting his truth. It can be difficult for a mortal to accept that the rotting of a limb or the expulsion of their entrails is a blessing. Yet it is so. Even the decrepit and decaying form of the Emperor of Mankind, ensconced in His Golden Throne, sits as a testament to Nurgle's greatness -- and his truth. Each day a thousand souls give their fleshy bodies and immortal souls to this false idol in a vain attempt to preserve His rotting presence. It is a losing battle, but the ammunition spent in the conflict, the Human bodies sent to their wasted doom, does indeed serve a purpose -- Nurgle's purpose.Each mortal that falls begets new life and new hope. This is the trade in which Nurgle traffics. Flesh is the coin of his realm, and hopes are the interest he pays on the investments made. Truly, Nurgle embodies the nature of all things, and thus earns his honorific as the Lord of All.