"Was wondering why he hadn't come to play with me after all this time. Turns out he ran off to you, you big fatso?"
A few minutes later, the child-sized version of Deadpool finally found the place. Standing by the dark green pool, he stared speechlessly at the pale, bloated man sprawled across the rotten giant's belly.
"Shh, keep it down, my Chosen One. He's still young and has only just fallen asleep." Nurgle covered Strange's ears with a large hand dripping yellow pus, carefully keeping Deadpool's duck-like voice from waking the child.
"Scumbag. You fall in love with everyone you see." Little Deadpools was also a spiritual entity. Not only could he create countless incarnations within his own Inner World, but he held absolute control there, because that was perfectly reasonable. "I'd already prepared the lubricant and candles, ready to do something exciting with him, but you took away my target. How am I supposed to explain that?"
When he had followed his cousin to the Warhammer Universe, Deadpool had sternly refused Nurgle's invitation. He had even less desire to drink the honeyed liquid flowing from the other's pustules and become some kind of "Great Unclean One."
But a Chaos God was, in truth, a kind of spirit—a High-Dimensional Concept, an idea that could never be erased once seen.
Nurgle had left a shadow in his mind and moved in as a form of Mental Power.
At the same time, Nurgle's actions drew the attention of the other Three Chaos Gods. This bastard was brutal, cunning, and obsessed with carnal pleasure. He completely met their requirements too.
So the three set aside their old disputes and projected themselves into Deadpool's head as well, each claiming its own territory.
The Word Bearers could worship all four Chaos Gods at once,