Where other legions of the Grandfather set out to conquer peoples, the Befouled set out to conquer places. To them a defending army is merely an obstacle between their censers and the soil they have truly come for. Wells fouled, rivers turned to sludge, fields sown with rot and the black spores of the Garden: this is their campaign, waged not against flesh but against the ground beneath it.
Theirs is a methodical, almost agricultural desecration. The Befouled do not sack a valley and move on; they tend it, working its ruin season by season until the rot sinks past the topsoil and into the roots of the world. Only then, where the boundary between realms has been worn thin and sick, does Nurgle's Garden begin to push through — a new province of the daemon-realm annexed from the mortal one, one blighted spring at a time. To fight them is to defend not a city or a people but the health of the earth, a war that cannot be won by victory in the field alone. A host may be driven off; the poison already worked into the ground remains, spreading long after the last censer-bearer has gone. The Befouled measure their triumphs not in years but in geography, and every valley they leave behind is a little less the world's, and a little more the Garden's, forever.
Maggotkin of Nurgle
Order of battle
The The Befouled field the units of the Maggotkin of Nurgle — a detachment from the roster:
Kindred formations
Other Maggotkin of Nurgle formations
Blessed SonsMortal Rotbringers utterly convinced that every boil and fever is a promotion, the Blessed Sons parade their afflictions like medals. They feel no pain, fear no death, and take offence at nothing in the realms except a cure.
Drowned MenGutrot Spume's sea-rotted reavers — a fleet of barnacled hulks that slide out of fog banks with sails full of flies. The Drowned Men strike where no army stands ready, smother coastal cities in rot, and are gone with the tide, leaving harbours where the water itself has sickened.
Munificent WanderersDaemon pilgrims of the Garden who treat contagion as charity, roaming the realms on endless missionary circuits. Their tallybands arrive droning hymns of welcome and depart leaving whole regions blessed, for the Wanderers believe no one should be denied the Grandfather's generosity — least of all those who refuse it.