"What's going on?"
Vulkan stood on the bridge, his body as motionless as a cast-iron statue, but his hand had already closed tightly around the haft of Dawnbringer.
Through the viewing window at the front of the bridge, he stared at the unsettling scene outside.
Warp apparitions drifted beyond the window. Yellow-green light flowed slowly across the glass like viscous liquid, bathing the entire bridge in a sickly hue.
His brow furrowed, his eyes gleaming with vigilance and suspicion. He could feel a powerful force seething around them, brimming with malice and corruption, waiting for its chance to strike.
Outside, Nurglings stood in the putrid swamp, their bodies short and bloated, their skin covered in pustules and ulcers.
They excitedly raised dead branches or rusty bells, shouting up at the arriving Salamanders fleet in shrill, grating voices filled with chilling fanaticism:
"Grandfather is love! Grandfather is life! Let all welcome life and hail the Father of Plagues!"
"Grandfather is love! Grandfather is life! Let all welcome life and hail the Father of Plagues!"
"Grandfather is love! Grandfather is life! Let all welcome life and hail the Father of Plagues!"
Their cries echoed through the Warp, penetrating the warships' armor and ringing directly inside everyone's mind, like countless flies buzzing in their ears.
Those voices carried a strange, infectious power that brought involuntary waves of dizziness and nausea, as though something were trying to invade their consciousness and corrode their thoughts.
"Welcome!" A deeper, richer voice rang out, like an echo rising from a deep well, its texture damp and cloying. "Grandfather's new friends!"
A Great Unclean One soaking in the swamp shifted his enormous, corpulent body and slowly rose.
He was the size of a small hill, his skin a nauseating green, covered in huge pustules and split ulcers. Yellow