Many are the sacred duties of Nurgle’s tallymen, but Wrech Gab’larr, the herald of fresh woes, has one of the juiciest. It is given to him to catalogue the effects of Nurgle’s plaguely concoctions on specimens never before encountered. Wherever a new breed of creature enters Nurgle’s sphere of influence, Wrech Gab’larr is there, a clutch of virulent diseases crawling over his pock-marked flesh and a quill of bone tucked within his sagging sleeves of skin. Blessed with the observational skills of a born apothecary despite only having one eye, the daemon herald watches with unblinking interest as his master’s latest experiments spread unchecked. Not a single detail of his subjects’ agony will go unnoticed, for his duties do not end upon the field of battle. As the sun sets over his foetid paradise, Grandfather Nurgle likes nothing more than to sit upon the porch of his rotting manse, listening to Wrech Gab’larr’s rolling bass tones as he recounts the tale of brave little diseases pioneering their way across fresh landscapes of flesh.[1a]


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