#hourgaththeputrid

[skxrbrand]

@hourgath-the-putrid

Khazaan is hardly the picture joviality he was before. Hardly the picture of health when he approaches Hourgath. The daemon is wingless and a massive gash runs from his sternum down, disappearing beneath the belt wrapped around his waist.

He looks, and sounds, haggard when he finally speaks, " We've no rapport to justify my asking, I know. But do you, scion of Nurgle, happen to have an unguent for pain?"

[blightsire]

@hourgath-the-putrid​ 

“ Does my nose decieve me? Do my eyes?” The drawl of the Blightsire rings across the field. He drags his bulk along, leaving a trail of slime wherever he slithers, eyeing a similarly huge mountain or rot and filth not far from him. With one great hand, the Great Unclean One funnels the odor towards his nostrils, taking a deep drag of it.

“ Kinfolk?”

[skxrbrand]

@hourgath-the-putrid​ 

“ One of Nurgle’s Daemon Lords.” Khazaan looks at the other with interest, almost amiable. “ A sight for sore eyes. How goes the Plaguemaster’s brews?”

[skxrbrand]

(Iam probably late but still)

Hourgath : Happy birthday my friend ....may your new year of....continual existence be prosperous and wonderful....in short wish you all.....best...

Thanks!