At the orbital spaceport above the Plague Star, the Death Guard who had successfully cleansed themselves of corruption were clearing away the plague growths that overran its interior.
The most effective tools in their hands were little water pistols filled with Panacea.
Even these little water pistols had been cobbled together by the Techmarines from weapon components they had found ways to clean.
The equipment they wore had long since been corrupted and ruined by ten thousand years of plague.
It had only remained usable because of Nurgle's blessings.
Even when their weapons were corroded and riddled with holes, proliferating flesh had filled the gaps.
But now.
They could no longer bear to face those nauseating weapons.
Moreover, once washed with Panacea, the weapons immediately became riddled with holes.
Bol tguns turned into piles of scrap after being cleaned.
Nor could cleaned Plague Sprayers turn back into promethium flamers.
Almost all their weapons and equipment had lost any value.
The armored vehicles, tanks, and other precious Chapter assets infested by corruption now had to be abandoned as well.
As for the weapons they had hoarded for over ten thousand years without bringing themselves to use them, all of those now had to be discarded.
But another, far more serious problem lay before them.
Although the Sin was fairly large, carrying away a hundred thousand Death Guard in one trip was unrealistic.
The Astartes were not machine bodies belonging to the Men of Iron, after all. They could not be stacked in the holds like canned sardines, and they also needed air, supplies, and places to rest.
Moreover, their enormous bodies far surpassed those of mortals and required much more space.
One Astartes needed as much space as four mortals.
A hundred thousand Death Guard required at least enough room to