The corrupted Sister Apphia roamed across the battlefield, the scorched earth crunching sickly underneath her boots, like bones; as she made her way around the rotting dead. Father Nurgle had been successful in the battle and now all that remained was to enjoy the spoils of war. His daemons had made quick work of the pitiful planetary defense force and the first steps were being taken to completely infest the planet. Apphia still retained most of her former beauty, but her loveliness was only skin deep; beneath this veneer she had been blessed and filled with gifts from Nurgle. Her new purpose in life was to spread those blessings.
The moans of a worthless mortal, alerted her to a wounded Guardsman twitching weakly and gurgling in his own blood. She was surprised that any human had survived, but now she had a chance to bring another into the fold.
The Guardsman looked up at the Sister of Battle that approached him with glazed eyes, though her face was clean and healthy, her armor was encrusted with filth, and all manner of polyps, fungi, scum and other scourges were nestled among it. The noble fleur-de-lis, which symbolized her former order, had been replaced with the pulsating mark of Nurgle. The overwhelming stench of death and decay followed her like a billowing mantle of pestilence she wrapped around herself; the Guardsman had begun to choke the moment the fetid air had enveloped him. Apphia smiled at her luck, she had found someone in need of help and as her grin widened a worse smell began to fill the air. She straddled the lying Guardsman and forcefully thrust her tongue into his mouth, choking him as the putrid slime worked its way down his throat, forming lesions and sores wherever it touched. Her thrusts deepened as his tongue stopped resisting and soon she began to feel the first signs of deep infection forming. She lowered his head down and smiled again, for she knew her first gift was appreciated.