The Harbingers of Decay trot into battle atop vile steeds more dead than alive. These morbid prophets draw the gaze of Nurgle himself, and where they ride, the Plague God’s sinister will is soon made manifest. Rarely do they travel alone, often guarded by a small but zealous band of zealous mortal followers of Nurgle.

Moving like a ghostly cyclone, the creatures known as Bladegheist Revenants spin in a frenetic fashion. They are souls taken from those who met particularly tormenting ends – those sealed in spike-riddled encasements, choked beneath water or buried alive. Their last living thoughts were a frenzy of desperation, a last flurry of defiance in an attempt to break free. Thanks to Nagash’s terrible curse, that horrible ending moment has been preserved forever in the Bladegheist Revenants.

The Scriptors Mortis record the rise of Nagash’s empire and punish any who would stand against it. With a mere flick of a quill, they sentence souls to be dragged to the underworlds, condemning them to an eternity of torment. It is said that the quill is mightier than the sword – in the spiteful scribblings of the Scriptors Mortis, this metaphor is made real.

From Shyish, the Realm of Death, come the ethereal Nighthaunt – incorporeal spirits driven to murder by their bitter hatred for the living. These spectres are the terror weapon of the Great Necromancer, united under the cruelest and most tortured rulers ever to die. At the command of a wretched Knight of Shrouds, swirling hordes of vicious Chainrasps drag down enemies for the cold scythes of maddened Grimghast Reapers, while Spirit Hosts of damned souls turn blood to ice with a touch.

From Shyish, the Realm of Death, come the ethereal Nighthaunt – terrifying spectres driven to murder by their bitter hatred for the living. These undead are the terror weapon of the Great Necromancer, united under the cruelest and most tortured rulers ever to die. Their cold grasp reaches across the Mortal Realms, spreading a paralysis of fear amongst the living souls they once called kin, a howling host that will leave only an endless landscape of corpses and wailing spirits remains.

In his mortal life, Awlrach promised aid and safe transport to desperate travellers, only to send his victims to a grisly death in the briny deeps. When Awlrach’s spirit made its way to Nagash, the reward for his treachery was an eternity of service. Now this sinister boatman dredges up wayward souls to bolster the Nighthaunt hosts, and ferries them through the ethereal plane to wherever they will cause the most terror.

The Craventhrone Guard serve Kurdoss Valentian and any who share his aims. Bitter and spiteful even compared to other Nighthaunt, these spectral sharpshooters relish lining up enemy champions in their sights, sending them to an early grave without fanfare or mercy. Though they enforced Valentian's will in life, the Craventhrone Guard are now are cursed to torment him, shooting down his prey before he can truly claim the glory of the kill.

The Great Unclean Ones are Nurgle’s mightiest daemons. Towering over their enemies, these living hillocks of rotting flesh lumber across the battlefield swinging their rusted weapons, vomiting streams of filth and unleashing diseased magics upon the foe.

The Black Coaches are funerary carriages from the underworlds. Within these arcane carriages any tangible remains are gathered in a casket that offers a safe haven in which the banished entity can reform.

If there is one constant to be found in existence, it is decay. All things must bow to entropy in due time. None of the Ruinous Powers understand this better than Nurgle.

A morbid set of disease-ridden triplets, held in check and balance by their opposing attitudes and desires, the brains of the Glottkin - the pragmatic Otto and devious sorcerer Ethrac -

Enormous, bloated warriors, festering with pustules and plague, the Putrid Blightkings are the favoured mortal servants of Nurgle. Blessed with the bite of the daemonfly, these rotting murderers lumber into battle with their tocsins tolling.