The Champion of Nurgle stopped once the two laid eyes on him. Morbus was rather surprised they heard him before they smelled him, but it was now obvious he was emitting an odor that could kill a regiment of Guardsmen if breathed in. His armor was cracked and rusted, with holes seeping puss and a black liquid. His Grey-Green Mark VIII Armor was lined with rusted gold, littered with writings and scratches, and bearing the Mark of Nurgle at the center. His helmet resembled a Gas Mask, as it seemed to shift when the Champion breathed. Flies began to investigate the two heralds of the Blood God with alien curiosity from Morbus' armor. The living hive before the two had his Corrupted Power Sword cleaved into a man's skull half-way, an expression of terror stuck on the victims face. The entry point of the blade sprouted black veins through the man's head, as parasites crawled into and throughout his face. The Plague Marine held his Power Sword in a backwards grip, nonchalantly dragging the corpse behind him. A Bolter, rotting and infested with flies, was seen held in his right hand as well. Finally, he reacted to the two. He was pretty relaxed, as most are who are infected by the Plague Father's gifts. "'Ello." The Plague Marine lifted two fingers with his right hand, a lazy wave of sorts.