"The Path of Damnation is a road trodden by the desperate and power-hungry. It never fulfils upon the promise made at the journey's start, but by journey's end the traveller has forgotten what put him on the path in the first place. All that is left is a ravaged soul; a husk for the Dark Gods to send back down the road just travelled."
- —Grindef Volks, Sanctioned Scholar of Forbidden Arts, University of Altdorf[4]
Chaos Cultists represent an ever-present danger to the safety and stability of the Old World.
Chaos Cults are horrific, secretive, religious organisations that seek to topple the mortal civilisations of the Known World in service to the Chaos Gods. They are primarily made up of the always easily corruptible race of Men.
Hidden just beneath the surface, Chaos is everywhere in the Empire of Man. From the decadent cults of Slaanesh in Altdorf, to the secret temple of Khorne beneath the Imperial Barracks in Nuln, among the plague survivors who turn to Nurgle in thanks and supplication, to the power-hungry merchants making sacrifices to Tzeentch, there is almost no segment of mortal society that is untouched by the corruption of the Ruinous Powers. They have something to offer anyone who is not completely satisfied with their lot -- and that is almost all Humans, whether in the Empire or without.[1a]
The corruption of Chaos exists even at the highest levels of society.
Chaos Cults vary enormously in size, strength, purpose, and membership, from tiny conspiratorial cells in the heart of the Empire to whole villages that have secretly given their allegiance to Chaos. Scholars, politicians, priests, craftsmen, farmers, soldiers, and members of almost every other profession have come under the sway of Chaos in their time, and often recruited their fellows. Indeed, a number of clandestine groups have a charitable public face that they hide behind and many have joined a Chaos Cult without realising just what they were getting into. Some sects are dedicated to the overthrow of society, attracting revolutionaries and agitators in great numbers, whereas others are solely concerned with the pursuit of personal power, or simply the endless pleasures that can be found in the worship of Slaanesh.[1a]
The one thing all cults have in common is that their existence is concealed from the common eye, so that witch hunters and templars are not immediately alerted to their existence. Since the Empire has a number of different secret societies that have nothing to do with Chaos, this makes discovering actual Chaos Cults to be a far more daunting task for those that seek to destroy them.[1a]
Due to this necessarily widespread tendency towards secrecy and the relative independence of each cult, it is often the case that cults have wildly varying objectives, even ones that are in direct opposition to another cult. This sometimes leads to a cult fighting another cult, with or without realising it. The Chaos Gods do not seem to mind, and even support such behaviour, just as they encourage the Chaos Marauders to raid each other's villages.[1a]
Cults Defined[]
"I harbour a special hatred of cultists, see. Mutants... disgusting things, true, but in most cases their affliction is through no fault of their own, see. No, cultists are special. See, we all have a choice in this world, ya see? We can stand in the light of Sigmar, embrace the Old Ways, or do whatever we have to do to stay out of a pyre. But them cultists, they don't care, see? They hate the true Gods and follow the easy path of the false ones, see? That's why we kill 'em, see?""
- —Rudolf, witch hunter bodyguard[4]
Sometimes even the smallest of heroes can stand up against the corruptions of Chaos.
Many servants of Chaos in the Empire are cursed mutants, individuals who have been touched by the hand of Chaos. While they might retain something of their beliefs and honour, the corruption siphons away their resolve, turning them against the very things they love and respect. If allowed to survive, they will eventually become the unthinking abominations known as Chaos Spawn, bent on carnage and the destruction of all.[2a]
The rest are the cultists. Where the mutant is a victim of Chaos, the cultist embraces it. Where the mutant sees their afflictions as curses, a cultist sees these changes as rewards or "gifts." The cultist can be anyone, of any social class or profession. Men and women are drawn to Chaos in equal numbers. They are hidden, fully installed in the Empire, from the grandest palace in Nuln to the dirtiest hovel in the Wasteland.[2a]
Contrary to common belief, the average cultist is indistinguishable from an ordinary Old Worlder. They may have a family, own a home and land, and even attend the services of the local Sigmarite temple. A cultist is likely to be a positive force in their community, well-liked, beloved by all. Cultists generally conceal their double lives behind a veneer of respectability, explaining why the witch hunters have such a hard time stamping out the many and varied cults that erode the morality of the Empire.[2a]
Chaos Cultists often receive mutating "gifts" from their divine patrons.
It would seem that the Ruinous Powers take great pleasure from corrupting mortal servants, even more than when their Daemonic servants wreak havoc during one of their many incursions into the mortal world. The reasons can only be theorised, but regardless of the cause, many mortals succumb to the temptations, sending their damned souls screaming into the cavernous maw that is the Realm of Chaos. And the cultists ride the crest of this wave of souls, exulting in their own madness and corruption to seek the rewards of Chaos.[2a]
While describing why people join Chaos Cults reveals much of a cult's purpose and function, it says little of how and why cults form. What could drive an individual to disgrace everything they are by founding an organisation whose sole purpose is to dismantle the order of the Empire?[2a]
Cults are often formed around a personality, an individual charismatic enough to seduce men and women away from right thinking and good beliefs. They are a corruptor, a wolf in sheep's clothing, and they know full well what it is that they do. They have no illusions about the power of Chaos, what it does, and the danger it poses to the Old World. Such individuals corrupt others with relish.[2a]
Cult Organisation[]
"While the armies of every province rallied to fight the Storm of Chaos, the insidious cults of these powers hid in our cities and towns, like a festering disease in the bone. Which is worse: the evil your see before your eyes, or that which remains hidden from sight?"
- —Sir Taclrechy von Gennig, Knight of the Stag[3e]
Chaos Cultists of the Plague Father Nurgle
Chaos Cults can be of any size, from a few misguided fools to a large and insidious secret society composed of thousands. Many double as innocent organisations, military fraternities, orphanages, or even established temples. The larger and more prominent the faction, the more attractive it is for infiltration by established cults since its easy to get lost amidst their ranks.[2a]
Anyone can found a cult, and indeed there are hundreds, if not thousands, of small cells scattered throughout the Old World and beyond. However, the most pernicious cults of Chaos are those led by a Cult Magus, a being of great power who interacts with a Daemon or the Dark God itself. Identified by the telltale Mark of Chaos, the magus commands their group through lieutenants called Acolytes, and together, they form a "coven," or inner circle for the cult.[2b]
Cult Acolytes[]
Cult Acolytes of a cult of Slaanesh
Although a Chaos Cult can involve a great number of people, only a select few are aware of the organisation's true purpose. This inner circle manipulates the rest, guiding the larger body down into ruin. The diseased heart of any cult is the coven. It includes the true members of the cult who understand their allegiance and actively further the interests of the group. They serve as the Cult Magus' (the cult's leader) most trusted servants.[2b]
To become an Cult Acolyte, as many call themselves, they must have earned the mark of whatever god to which the cult owes its allegiance. This sign of favour is instantly recognised by the magus who, in turn, ushers the individual into the coven.[2b]
Cult Magus[]
"As the founder and leader of a Chaos Cult, it is the primary purpose of the Cult Magus to fulfil the clandestine goals of their ruinous patron."
- —Description of the Cult Magus from Total War: Warhammer III.[4]
A Cult Magus proselytises to the faithful Cult Acolytes.
The most dangerous cults are those helmed by a Cult Magus. This leader is deeply corrupted by Chaos and bears one of its horrid rewards. Too twisted to walk among Mankind, the magus must operate behind the scenes, issuing commands and edicts to their Cult Acolytes, who in turn communicate the cult's wishes to the rest of the organisation.[2b]
Some magi can communicate directly with their patron, but most must rely on intermediaries such as familiars. These magical creatures are similar to those employed by the Colleges of Magic's Magisters but are always lowly creatures or impish Daemons. A few magi use magic items that house the essence of a Daemon to bridge the distance between the world of Men and the Realm of Chaos.[2b]
Cult Activities[]
Daemonic possession is always a hazard for those who would dabble with the worship of Chaos.
Once a Chaos Cult forms, there's no telling what it will do. Cults simply seek to sustain themselves, and if growth results, all the better. A few might seize control of a town or village, seducing well-placed members of the local government and drawing them deeper into the Cult Magus' plotting.[2b]
When so installed, a cult can become extremely dangerous, for if it controls the lives of many citizens, it can condemn them to a fate of Chaos corruption. In such instances, a cult can act with impunity, snatching people from the streets for dark sacrifices, and maintain extensive temple complexes right beneath the noses of the authorities.[2b]
Governments are not the only groups at risk of infiltration. There are plenty of stories of Chaos corruption within perfectly legal religious cults, from the rural shrine to the established Holy Temple of Sigmar in the Imperial capital city, Altdorf. Temptation also runs strong in the Colleges of Magic, seducing would-be magisters with the power offered by the use of Dark Magic. Even the most virtuous and charitable institutions are at risk, and far too many orphanages in the Old World have been hunting grounds for terrible cultists in search of innocent flesh to offer up in a blasphemous ritual.[2b]
The instructions issued by the patron, regardless of whether it sources from the familiar or the Chaos God itself, seem to follow no logical course. One cult might declare war on a rival group, and the results of the conflict are a series of unexplained and unconnected deaths. Likewise, the cult might broker to gain a foothold in a profitable trade, positioning itself for some future plot and machination. One thing is clear: A Chaos Cult's success or failure in their workings is always the clearest sign of divine favour.[2b]
Cults of Khorne[]
"Our Blood Lord has given us many great blessings this night. The sacrifices must have appeased his almighty rage, for the blood in our skull chalice became still. I drank deeply from the cup, and felt renewed with almighty strength. I have no recollection of what occurred next, but when I woke, the other seven were all dead. They were ripped to shreds, reduced to ooze upon the floor, bones ground to dust! What almighty power has my Lord gifted to me? There is still blood left in this sacred vessel. Tonight, I shall sip once more, and let the great wrath of Khorne descend upon this city. I will sacrifice myself and all others who try to oppose me. Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Throne of Khorne!"
- —From the diary of a Crimson Skull Cultist, found by witch hunters in Talabheim.[5c]
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To find a cult of Khorne, simply follow the trail of bodies...
Khorne is the violent, angry, and murderous Chaos God of war and wrath. His creed of mindless, wanton destruction appeals only to the utterly psychotic and violent, who take to the battlefield with the unabashed urge to kill, burn, and maim. But they do not always start this way. War brings people to the cults of Khorne. The spray of blood, the screams of the dying, and the stink of death are experiences that do not easily fade. Veterans of even a single conflict emerge changed, having witnessed firsthand the imminence of death and the glory of unadulterated violence, and for those who've seen countless battlefields, they know firsthand the awfulness of war.[2c][3d]
For most, these experiences underscore the importance of living, but a few see the blood and carnage differently. Haunted by the memories of battle, exulting in the power inherent in the sword and the look in a dying man's eyes as they hack his body apart, they find they cannot reconcile normal life with life in war. They hunger for killing, seeing conflict as an opportunity for glory, a chance to prove their mettle and power. The prospect of killing is a constant companion, one never forgotten and almost impossible to placate. Those few not driven to suicide must find an outlet for the growing need to kill, and at the end of their search, they find the Blood God waiting.[2c]
The cults of Khorne can be found across the world of Mallus, established and propagated by the Blood God's cultists, who roam far and wide to serve their god, spreading his corruption in their stead. There are always plenty of eager supplicants who simply wish to murder and slay in the Blood God's name, and so spread their cult's influence far and wide. However, Khorne draws fewer true Chaos Cultists than his rivals. He has a much stronger presence amongst the Beastmen, and even more amongst the Chaos Warriors. Cults of Khorne are very active in the Old World, but within the Empire there are few established ones, and there are several reasons for this.[2c][4][5b][5c]
Firstly, Khorne expects his followers to kill and slaughter regularly, to be sacrificing skulls and blood to him at all times, making it difficult to maintain the secrecy which cults of the other Ruinous Powers rely upon to survive and that he disdains. So great is Khorne's demand that his followers must kill each day lest they provoke his anger, and he elevates those who cause wanton destruction and carnage wherever they go. Khorne's cults must behave like sharks, constantly on the move, killing whenever possible.[2c][3d][5b]
Thus, cults of Khorne are thankfully short-lived, their drive to kill leading them to reckless behaviour, resulting in their exposure and destruction. Otherwise, their overt violent behaviour makes Khornate cults so noticeable that Khorne's cultists are chased to the far fringes of the Empire, where the powers of Chaos can hold greater sway over the populace than the local governments. Generally, organised Chaos Cults dedicated to Khorne can only successfully operate where there are no real laws or law enforcement.[2c][3d][5b]
Secondly, due to the levels of violence seen in Khornates, many cults quickly collapse due to the cultists vying for leadership or just the eruption of an all-out conflict that decimates the membership. Cults of Khorne that cannot find enough innocents to massacre turn upon themselves in short order, both to sate the desires of their foul god and to appease its members' own lust for death and chaos. Khorne blesses those who butcher their friends and allies.[2c][3d][5b]
Some followers of Khorne don't realise themselves that they have given their souls over to the Blood God. Khorne is not associated with subterfuge, but from his Brass Citadel in the Realm of Chaos, the will that he imposes upon his followers has been confused by many a man. In the heat of a raging battle, warriors call upon their gods for strength, but it may be the Blood God's guiding hand that answers their petitions.[5a][5b]
Still others that do know the true purposes of their dark master refuse to lower themselves to joining with others with the same beliefs. Those few cultists of Khorne who remain in the larger cities and the western regions of the Empire become solo mass murderers. They stay at large only for as long as they can elude the angry mobs who clamour for their heads. Witch hunters claim that finding and rooting out cultists of Khorne is the easiest of their tasks -- just follow the bloody trail of bodies, and the killer will be at the end of it.[3d][5b]
This is not to say that cults of Khorne do not exist among the denizens of Imperial society. Cultists of Khorne can occasionally show a modicum of patience and foresight compared to their patron, and throughout the Empire the cults scheme and plan. Some sects secretly turn the minds and souls of warriors into mindless minions of Khorne, often targeting soft-minded warriors, luring them into a group they initially believe worships Sigmar or Ulric.[5a][5b]
The agents of Khorne have other subtle methods besides this. The Blood God has no use for baubles -- violence, blood and skulls being the only things that matter to him -- but gemstones and the like are useful when brokering accord with others. The underhanded nature of the Great Game also dictates that, on occasion, Khorne's agents appear as the servants of another, a necessity for which camps that produce dyes are useful. One can only think of the anger of Tzeentch himself when he learns of double agents in his midst, doing the Blood God's hellish bidding and beating the Great Deceiver at his own game.[4]
Even so, for Khorne and his mortal servants, trade is a necessary evil to facilitate their true aims: to tip the mortal world into eternal ruin. There is a policy of subterfuge for now, but in the end, they are determined to see the world stained red with the blood of mortals at the Murder Lord's vicious hand.[4]
Organisation[]
"We are the true followers of the Skull God. Unlike our cousins in the wild places, we are not random killers. No, we let others do the killing for us. Each innocent that falls to the hands of our minions brings glory to the Blood God and adds to our temporal strength and influence. Make no mistake, we kill when needed, and our rage and hate is depthless. Blood for the Blood God as always, but let it be the blood of our subjects, our thralls."
- —Dieter Lieden, Cult Acolyte and Knight Panther[2b]
In the few Khornate cults that exist in the Empire, members tend to number in some multiple of eight, a number mysteriously sacred to the Blood God. Khorne's cultists do not congregate in secret temples, but rather view each kill, each battle, as their unholy ground since this is where they can celebrate their god by spilling blood and slaughtering their enemies. Some cultists meet on the sites of old battlefields or Chaos Monoliths where their god's influence is the strongest. Cult lairs may contain halls of challenge, terrible places where Khorne's warriors are called to battle for his ruinous purpose.[2c][4]
Acolytes of Khorne work to spread death and hate. Violent, vicious, and thoroughly wicked, they are the most martially inclined of all cultists. The only thing keeping these individuals from destroying everything around them is their commitment to the goals of their group. The heads of Khorne's cults are invariably extremely powerful, merciless individuals who goad their minions into battle with promises of blood and gore.[2c][3d]
Cult Magi of Khorne are vicious, bloodthirsty villains, who exist only to spread violence and slaughter and to curry the favour of their lord, one day ascending to the ranks of the Daemon Princes. These Cult Magi have tenuous restraint and often explode into violent outbursts, killing everything they can until they can reassert control over themselves. They find it difficult to remain in the Empire, so most leave to find their fates in the Chaos Wastes.[2c][2d]
Activities and Resources[]
"See me, O Lord of Skulls, and accept this cranial offering, for it is made in the name of your eternal glory!"
- —A petition from a Ritual of Skulls[4]
In terms of actions, Khorne's servants may simply build his Skull Throne, one decapitated head at a time, to a soundtrack of the bloodcurdling screams of those brutally murdered for his glory; the cries of havoc are known to have a destabilising effect. Cults may also make pledges to Khorne, avowing blood, gore, death and skulls, and fulfill that vow by empowering every army around, thus ensuring more carnage for every battle. But there are many means by which cults of Khorne further their divine patron's ends and resources that can be harvested in service to his aims.[4]
Among the unusually simple operations is iron-smelting. Mortals, however savagely fearless, lack the intrinsic might of Daemonkind; they need external implements to even begin to balance the scales. Larger iron-smelting operations mean better-equipped mortal fighters, and Khorne's cults are capable of establishing military industrial complexes of the heaviest metals and most raging of infernos.[4]
Obsidian is also useful in this regard. Chaos cultists oft-hail from the cold north, and Khorne's Norscan servants, such as Chaos Marauders and Chaos Champions, honour the Hound, protect themselves and frighten their adversaries with armour of void-black obsidian. For sheer weight, and therefore force of blow, as well as its natural sharpness, Norscan swordsmiths have found nothing quite so effective as obsidian, formed in volcanic fires beneath the mortal world's surface.[4]
In terms of building materials, timber is a versatile and sturdy material appreciated even by Daemons, if only for its tendency to burn, and when other building materials are lacking, Khorne's hordes are ordered to stop burning forests and harvest them instead. The massive strip-mining operations of Khorne's cult enclaves can deforest entire regions in mere weeks, fuelling the ever-hungry war machine of the Blood God.[4]
There are other materials useful in construction for Khornate cults, such as ceramics and marble. Ceramics can be used to create pots to store flammable tar, acids, boiling blood and other defensive siege payloads for the forces of Khorne, while walls and buildings clad in ceramic layers can absorb impact from all kinds of bombardment during a siege. Ceramics infused with Daemonic energies are just as durable as the strongest mortal-made steel, and in dark, blood-soaked pits, slaves toil to harvest Chaos-infused marble and seethe with silent scorn.[4]
Khornate cults also have uses for more organic substances. Through mighty rituals of blood, Khorne's warriors may be restored to full strength if the correct litanies are uttered at the appropriate juncture in battle, but this requires much set-up. Nurglish cults may favour medicinal resources, but even Khorne's most loyal mortal servants, savage and wild as they are, require healing after a battle, and certain plants produce powerful restorative tinctures that even the most zealous of Khorne's chosen find useful. Beyond that, the Blood God has nothing against herbal enhancements -- as long as the blood flows and the land burns.[4]
Slaaneshi cults are oft-drawn to the sale of wines for obvious reasons, but Blood Wine is a staple beverage among cults of Khorne. The details of its production are stomach-churning, yet it is nonetheless highly addictive, and the distilleries are only a grotesque sight to make any mortal recoil in disgust if they are not already regular consumers.[4]
Cults that deal in spices are often aligned to Tzeentch, although that is not always the case. The particular "spices" Khornate cults work with however have little to do with flavouring cuisine, and the workers in "spice" production facilities need to wear special protective garments, lest the fumes make them as volatile as the intended recipients. As for the dangers, "long term effects" and "substance abuse" are foreign concepts to the Blood God.[4]
Cultists of the Blood God even have uses for living creatures. Besides the obvious use of their skulls, as tends to be the point of ivory operations, cultists round up local creatures -- and people -- to be infused with Daemonic energies, turning them into bloodthirsty monsters. Their monster-breeding pits and caves can fill any witnessing mortal with revulsion and dread, but eventually no cultists will serve in the monstrous spawning complexes, their work taken by brutish taskmasters chosen from the very stock they raise. Even the howls of battle from baying wolves can spread the Murder Lord's insidious ruin across the land.[4]
Above all, Khorne despises magic, a hatred that is manifest in his followers. His is the domain of killing with weapons, not by relying on the cowardly ways of killing. As a result, most cultists of Khorne butcher spellcasters, but others recognise their value, and sell them to the Chaos Dwarfs in the Dark Lands in exchange for Chaos Weapons and Chaos Armour.[2c]
Also useful for these purposes is salt, which can nullify all kinds of spells and enchantments, and which Khornate cultists have become experts at torturing victims with, either for sport or for interrogation. To the heart of a dying world, salting the earth is the final wound. So too do cultists of Khorne seek out obsidian, using it like others of their despicable ilk for summoning rituals, as well as tearing rifts in the fabric of reality itself.[4]
Cults of Nurgle[]
"It's in your holy books or even written in the stars. They are inscribed on your very flesh. Each gangrenous wound, each itching boil, each suppurated abscess illuminates the majesty of the true master of the world."
- —Confessions of the heretic Adolphus Grimmer before the Templar Witch Hunters of Sigmar[6c]
A Chaos Cultist of Nurgle claims another victim.
For Nurgle, the Chaos God of disease and decay, it is not the incessant warring between Daemonic armies in the Realm of Chaos or even the epic clash of Chaos Champions among the Northmen tribes of the Chaos Wastes that truly enthuses him. Rather, it is the conflict against the unconquered nations of the world of Mallus, where he and the other Dark Gods expend most of their efforts trying to destroy the civilised realms. Furthermore, of all the mortal races, it is not the perplexing long-lived and unblemished Elves or infuriatingly resilient Dwarfs, but Humans who intrigue Nurgle the most, for they rot so very easily and are worthy hosts for his contagions.[6a][6b][6c]
And of all the Human nations, one of the most fascinating to Nurgle is the Empire of Man, the cities of which teem with life ripe for contamination. Nurgle's main obsession is to corrupt those loyal to the Empire and the Imperial gods. Should the Empire fall to anarchy, other nations will soon follow, and the Old World will be ripe for invasion by the Chaos hordes mustering in the north. But the Empire is the the greatest prize for all the Dark Gods, for it is the wealthiest, most populous, and most powerful Human nation. The Dark Gods vie for control over this land, implanting Chaos cults to weaken the Empire from within and raiding the borders with their warbands, and is in this arena that Nurgle truly excels.[6a][6b][6c]
Yet, it's hard to imagine why anyone would embrace Nurgle, who personifies the decay of all things, being despair in its most awful forms. When a plague devastates a community, Grandfather Nurgle laughs. When the flesh sloughs from the bones of the dying, the stench of Nurgle is near. He is the suffering experienced by every man and woman living in the Empire and beyond, the fear when some strange growth takes root in the flesh and expands, when the blemish becomes a weeping wound stinking of death. So why, then, would any turn to this most foul god for succour? Hopeless despair.[2f]
In order to understand Nurgle's power and place in the Old World, one must understand that people see plague as a curse. It is the affliction of those who have some flaw, either by lowly birth (since most plagues start among the commoners) or by some defect in character. To make matters worse, the afflicted spread their illness to others, the guilty and innocent alike. Given the widespread hostility, sickness is not just a death sentence, but rather every bit of the curse people believe it to be, dooming the diseased to be cast out or cordoned off to die. What's a person to do, then, when they discover an unhealthy bubo on their armpit or groin? Enlisting the aid of an expensive physician or the tender mercies of a priestess of Shallya is not an option for most, even if they could afford it.[2f]
As the afflicted realise their fates are sealed and that there is no hope of recovery, despair blooms in their hearts. Panic follows, and they cast about for anything they can find to help them. This is when the cultists of Nurgle step in. The advocates of Nurgle promise an end to the suffering, a slow of the disease's spread, to comfort the afflicted in their new and decaying forms. And with the unforgiving stance upheld by the Empire, it's no wonder that people take comfort in whatever way they can.[2f]
Herein lies the secret of Nurgle's reach. Khorne's appeal is confined to those maddened by bloodlust, Tzeentch draws those addicted to magic or who thrive on cunning and lies, and Slaanesh attracts degenerates. By contrast, all mortals eventually feel Nurgle's presence. Disease is an all too common aspect of life in the Empire and the larger Old World. Many people live their entire lives suffering from one ailment or another, and almost every household has lost at least one immediate member to a horrific illness. Chaos cults of Nurgle prey on those who succumb to the grief and despair that result from this ever-present illness and death, recruiting members from those suffering from horrible afflictions, nihilists, and those the diseases or despair have driven insane.[3d][3e][6a][6b]
That said, most refuse to invoke Nurgle's name when afflicted by his diseases, even if the alternative is perishing in agony, but he is quick to answer the few who do. If they prove their devotion and please him by infecting others with their diseases, he grants them his sacred Mark of Nurgle and frees them from the physical tribulations of life in return for their souls. For this reason they bear their afflictions with stoicism, in the belief that eventually he will deliver them from suffering. Those who embrace Nurgle embrace their own doom, but lose the fear of their inevitable demise. In fact, cultists of Nurgle become remarkably cheery -- Nurgle is seen as a "loving" god, who teaches his followers to accept the diseases that mar their body as a sign of his approval and grace.[3e][6c]
Some people worship Nurgle in the hopes of placating him, appeasing him so that he offers his touch to those who refuse to bow before the Old Father. And indeed, such efforts seem to work...for a time. Gradually, a few illnesses crop up, people begin to die, and a devastating plague ravages the town, leaving nothing alive for their foolish subservience. Others, in their madness, come to believe that Nurgle offers some form of salvation, respite from or understanding of pestilence and the entropy that defines the mortal world. Few realise their misguided convictions only fuel Nurgle's power, creating a never-ending cycle of disease and despair.[2f][3d]
Nurgle has many worshippers in the Old World, growing as the difficulties of life worsen, as disease breaks out, blooming when animals fall ill. For every tragedy, Old Father Nurgle gains another convert, adding to the already swollen numbers of the diseased and dying. Cults of Nurgle are the most numerous of all the heresies that afflict the Empire. His followers often band together, and in almost every town and city, covens secretly meet in sewers or other dark, filthy places to praise their god and plot how to spread his pestilences and infect the populace with disease.[2g][6c][6f]
Yet despite the many Chaos cults of Nurgle within the Empire, few of them are organised cults, instead cultivating individuals who have been afflicted and luring them into his embrace. The well-established cults recruit new members from among the sick and desperate -- those who yearn to cling to life by any means necessary. Favourite recruiting grounds for cultists of Nurgle include hospices, leper colonies, and filthy slums -- anywhere that the diseased congregate. Influential cultists may even be able to sidle to the bed of a sick aristocrat and whisper promises of deliverance to their fevered patron behind the backs of his physicians.[2f][6c]
Of course, all cultists must act surreptitiously, for the agents of the emperor, of Sigmar, and the other gods of Mankind are always on the alert to eliminate the followers of Chaos. Nurgle's bitterest enemies in the Empire are the witch hunters of Sigmar who stop at nothing to eradicate all Chaos worship. Almost incorruptible, their willingness to destroy the innocent to reach the guilty makes them dangerous foes. Most cults of Nurgle go to ground at the mere hint of an investigation by witch hunters, yet these diligent servants of Sigmar can often sniff out even the most cautious Chaos cult, and will condemn its members to torture, a swift trial and consignment to a blazing pyre.[6c][6d]
Nurgle's cults also suffer from their own share of internal issues. While some become established, others flourish only briefly before being eradicated by the diseases they foster. This is a sign to some cultists that they have failed Nurgle, but to others that they have pleased him, and he has taken their souls to his garden in the Realm of Chaos where they can serve forever as his minions of decay. Many Nurglite cults compete with each other, jealous for Nurgle's favour, and may even undermine the plans of rival Nurglite cults.[6c]
Furthermore, the followers of Nurgle have few allies, for none but the most insane would want to expose themselves willingly to their contagions. A few among the highest echelons of Nurgle's cults have dealings with the Skaven, whose god -- the Horned Rat -- shares Nurgle's ideals and would see the entire Old World laid low by pestilence. Thus, sometimes the Skaven make an alliance with the servants of Nurgle.[6d][6e]
Even this cooperation however just means the Skaven manipulating Nurgle's followers to further their own schemes, and an unwary cult leader who allies with them is likely to meet a grisly death when they are no longer of any use. Usually, the Skaven avoid contact with the cults of Nurgle, knowing that they too may be seen as rivals, not allies, and only interfere when the cults' ambitions obstruct their own. Beyond this weak relation, Nurglite cults operate in direct confrontation with those of the other Chaos Gods, particularly those of Tzeentch, who Nurgle teaches his worshippers to despise. All this petty infighting only amuses Nurgle.[2f][6c][6d][6e]
Organisation[]
"Ever since I pledged myself to Nurgleth I lost my appetite, and have not eaten in months. A shame, especially as my belly engorges all the same. I continue to defecate several times a day. Rivers of brown escape my breeches. I must fight the impulse to drink it."
- —Albuss Trotem, Latter-Fecundite[4]
A Chaos Cultist of Nurgle
Nurgle's cults often form in multiples of seven, as that number is sacred to the Lord of Decay. Given the number of diseased people in the Empire, locating cults of Nurgle is surprisingly difficult. They both lay low, blending into the local populace, and stay on the move, on top of insinuating themselves in places of abject squalor and filth where even hardened witch hunters pause before entering.[2f][3e]
Nurglite cults congregate in the Empire's cities, thriving in the sewers or trash heaps where they can engage in their blasphemous rituals near the source of their mortal suffering, but also thrive well in isolated communities just outside the normal routes and byways of the Empire. Entire sections of towns have been burned to the ground after a cult of Nurgle has been uncovered; such cleansing fire is often the only thing that can stop the supernatural, Chaos-infused diseases they carry.[2f][3e]
Nurgle's cultists infest every strata of society throughout the Old World. He bestows his diseases to ruler and pauper alike, for all are equal in his eyes, and his plagues reduce all people to the same state -- so desperate in their pain and despair that they would cast away their worldly treasures and betray their loved ones for the slightest reprieve from their suffering. Some cults of Nurgle mirror Human society's social stratification, with the leadership reserved for those of noble birth. Some cults' hierarchies are based instead on the extent of affliction, with the plagued poor lording it over less diseased high-born followers. Some cults only recruit from among the aristocracy, others from only street scum.[6b][6c][6f]
A major obstacle to the efforts of a cultist of Nurgle is the repulsiveness of their ailments, which are difficult to hide, and the mutations that develop as a further reward for the loyalty of the Plague Lord's favoured servants. Although such cultists are proud of their bodily deformities, if they cannot hide them then they cannot operate within Human society, for their mutations will draw deadly attention. Thus, many senior cultists of Nurgle are forced to hide themselves away, and use newly initiated members less afflicted by decay to perform tasks among the public.[6c]
By preying on the afflicted, the frightened, and the despairing, acolytes of Nurgle gather flocks of the doomed and dying to lend their strength and belief to the cause of the cult. Thoroughly despicable, these individuals harvest the damned from the most tragic wretches in the Old World.[2f]
Disgusting, disease-ridden beings, there is little to distinguish the Cult Magi of Nurgle from the Dark God's Daemons. Covered in oozing sores, lesions, and rotting flesh, these Cult Magi are so foul that to be near them is to invite disaster. They spread their sickness through their chosen territory in waves, until they eventually infect all.[2f]
Activities and Resources[]
"We shall incubate the despair that feeds Him... until the pestilence strips our crops, and starvation bloats our bodies"
- —Words from a concoction chamber of a Nurglite cult[4]
The Lord of Decay is a patient player of the Great Game of the Chaos Gods, for it takes time to brew his plagues, but his influence gradually spreads throughout the mortal world. To his ends, the cults of Nurgle contaminate from within. When woodworm burrows into the oak beams that support the walls and roof of a proud mansion, the entire edifice will eventually collapse. Likewise, the cultists of the Plague Lord worm their way into Imperial society and rot the Empire's core, weakening the strength of the emperor's armies and the morale of his civilian subjects by disseminating disease, and thwarting those who try to stem infection and sickness.[6a][6c]
The spreading of the Urfather's cornucopia of contagions to all living things is his servants' chief concern. Cultists who have influence in society, the bureaucrats and advisors, use subtle means to spread Nurgle's gifts, such as ensuring that basic civic sanitary amenities -- drains, sewers and midden heaps -- are neglected, causing rampant sickness amongst the population. Other cultists secretly infect water supplies or food stores. The armies and garrisons of the Empire are favourite targets for the cultists of Nurgle, for disease can cripple a fighting force long before a battle is fought. A single cough can lay low an Imperial general where feats of arms have failed and a sneeze can decimate an entire town.[4][6a][6c]
Some cultists simply wander among the crowded city streets passing their illnesses to everyone they meet. Nurgle drives his cultists to wander the Old World, spreading pestilence wherever they go. While most eventually succumb to the numerous diseases they carry, a few become strangely energised by their afflictions, mutating into disgusting forms. Nurgle's followers delight in all things scabbed and ulcerous, and resolve to spread the putrid concoctions of their lord throughout the mortal world.[3e][6c][6f]
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the field of medicine is favoured by Nurgle's cults, who are keen to infiltrate the burgeoning apothecarial industry. The Empire would have fallen to Nurgle's plagues long ago were it not for the ministrations of the priesthood of Shallya, physicians, barber-surgeons, and other healers. For almost every mundane disease Nurgle concocts, somehow these mere mortals discover a cure. The followers of Nurgle despise these meddlers and hatch plots to disrupt their work or even to murder them. The greatest coup a cult of Nurgle can achieve is to corrupt a doctor of medicine, folk-healer, or priest of Shallya, for through them the Plague Lord would be able to wreak great havoc.[4][6d]
Where subtle measures and means of corruption fail or prove ineffective, some Nurglite cults prefer direct action. Nurgle possesses great mastery over the Winds of Magic and imparts his abilities to his most deserving followers. Those who dabble in the Chaos sorcery of the Lord of Decay can inflict disease and pestilence by magical means, and do so to blight and cripple their enemies, as well as to reward their followers with fresh ailments. As pathogens spread, the energy and determination granted to Nurgle's afflicted servants is given as a twisted solace.[4][6a][6d]
Some cult leaders delve into rare grimoires, possession of which earns the death penalty in the Empire, and learn rituals to raise magical squalls that can spread deadly plagues far and wide. Many folk blame such warlocks and witches when crops fail, famine strikes the land, or epidemics ravage entire regions, leaving rotting corpses in their wake. Through rituals of plague, cultists can cause Nurgle's rancid blessings to seep forth and promulgate in the form of unknown diseases, and through greater rituals of pestilence, the foulest of the myriad debilities that can infect the living spread swiftly through entire territories.[4][6a][6d]
The most powerful cults have learned from blasphemous grimoires how to open a gateway to the Realm of Chaos, through which can slip dreaded Daemons of Nurgle. Cultists who have mastered the arcane rituals of their god might try this, but Daemon-summoning is always a risky practise, for uncontrolled Daemons are wont to destroy their summoners. Ceremonies are long and complicated, and successful rituals are few and far between, but devastating in the extreme. Once summoned into the mortal world, Nurgle's Daemons can lay waste with their contagions; a Plaguebearer can decimate an entire town with deadly pox, but should a cult somehow manage to summon a Greater Daemon such as a Great Unclean One, plague and ruin are a certainty across a wide region.[6a][6d][6f]
Cults of Slaanesh[]
"Sensation is a wheel. One direction is pleasure. The other is pain. Walk the path of pleasure long enough, and you’ll find pain. Walk the path of pain, and you’ll find pleasure. My love, let me take you on this path, to experience the ample pleasures and pains my lord offers. Let me run my tongue across your back. Let me cut you. Let me tease you, titillate you. Let me cut you. Let me fulfil your every need. Let me kill you."
- —Allana, Cult Magus of Slaanesh.[2h]
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Chaos Cultists of Slaanesh prove successful in summoning Daemonettes from the Realm of Chaos.
Easily the most insidious and subtle of the Chaos Cults, followers of Slaanesh, the Chaos God of pleasure and pain, are dedicated to serving their god through the subversion and corruption of others. Cultists are wanton hedonists who seek ever stranger and more perverse delights to shock their jaded senses into some kind of reaction. Over time, Slaaneshi cultists lose all sense of morality or scruples, turning to murder and vile debauchery in the name of Slaanesh, the Dark Prince.[3e]
The Chaos Cultists of Slaanesh often engage in orgies and other acts of wanton hedonism.
The cult of Slaanesh strives to insinuate itself into all levels of Human society. It is popular among the upper classes, the members of which often do not know exactly what it is that they are worshipping. In their quest for pleasurable moments, these misguided folk find amusement and novelty in paying homage to strange, seductive idols or partaking in debauched gatherings behind closed doors. Artists, poets, and other seekers of sensual things are often drawn to Slaanesh's cults. Of them all, the cult of Slaanesh is probably the hardest to uproot, as the political fallout of revealing such heresy could topple the entire Empire.[3e]
The cult also has its worshippers among the lower classes, who use its practices to find some form of relief from their harsh, degrading lives. Some Old World festivals and holy days, particularly those with a message of release and letting go of restraint, push into what some could consider blasphemous ground, where Slaanesh holds sway. Cultists take advantage of these times to recruit new followers with promises of delights and decadence. Witch hunters and priests of the sanctioned cults keep a close eye on these festivals to ensure that they do not lead followers astray.[3e]
Cults of Tzeentch[]
"Is it so wrong to want to be on the winning side? Year by year the Beastmen grow bolder and the marauders stronger. Year by year there are more mutants, and worse, within the borders of the Empire. The emperor is fighting a losing battle. I am a pragmatist first and foremost; the Empire has made me rich, but Chaos will help me survive when Middenheim is in flames and its people are food for Beastmen or sacrifices to the Blood God. Survive and even prosper. The Master of Fortune is good to those who revere him."
- —Klaus Goethe of the Merchant's Guild High Council, Middenheim, Tzeentchian cultist
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The Advisor of Total War: Warhammer, a former Magister, became corrupted by Tzeentch in his quest for knowledge.
Those who follow the teachings of Tzeentch, the Chaos God of change and intrigue, are dedicated to change in all its forms. They are the most mystical of the Chaos Cults, seeking out forbidden knowledge regardless of the cost it exacts on the mind, body, and soul. Hedge wizards, ex-priests, and those who dabble in the occult are the most likely candidates to be drawn into a cult of Tzeentch.[3e]
As befitting a cult that worships the god of change, no two groups are exactly alike. Some are composed exclusively of spellcasters, while others are comprised of lowly commoners who seek only to overcome and alter their lots in life. By asking for such change to come into their lives, they call upon Tzeentch, often without a full understanding of the damage that doing so will cause.[3e]
The Imperial Colleges of Magic are constantly on the hunt for cults of Tzeentch, viewing them as horrid aberrations that meddle in things that should be left alone. The Colleges engage in constant pogroms within their membership, rooting out those who have fallen sway to Tzeentch's control. Although they are never spoken of, these fallen brethren are all too common. Magic is intrinsically tied to Chaos, since it is simply a controlled expression of that force, and its practitioners are more vulnerable to the call of entropy and corruption than the average citizen of the Empire.[3e]
Cults of the Horned Rat[]
"The Horned Rat will give all his servants dominion over the world. The Skaven may be the rulers, but we will be their agents... not slaves or food, like other Humans."
- —Ella Durrbein, Horned Rat cultist[3b]
A Horned Rat Human cultist bearing the symbol of the Yellow Fang prepares an ambush in pursuit of the cult's nefarious goals.
There are many cults that worship the minor Chaos God known as the Horned Rat, such as the Yellow Fang, and there are an alarming number of folk who would damn their civilisation and willingly sell their countrymen into slavery. Many Men of the Old World hold dim views of the future. It seems that whatever Humans build or create crumbles into ruin and corruption: rulers care nothing for the ruled, a priest's prayers are little more than empty words mouthed by someone who no longer believes, and family members betray each other for just a few coins or a jug of cheap beer.[3c][7a]
Most folk of the Old World keep their thoughts to themselves, hope they are wrong, and do their best to get through just one more day. Others, however, are certain a new order is coming and have decided to throw in their lot with it. They want to be atop the pile when the Empire comes crashing down. For these people, worship of the Horned Rat offers a means of survival and a place of power in the coming new order.[7a]
As befits worship of the Horned Rat, Human members of such cults are usually secretive and clandestine, preferring to work from behind the scenes. Worship of the Horned Rat is not officially forbidden in the Empire, but only because the existence of the Skaven (and therefore their god) is never publicly recognised by the Imperial authorities due to the conspiracy of silence on the subject. Unofficially, his worship is viciously clamped down upon by witch hunters and Skaven hunters alike, who mask their efforts under the guise of purging more mundane Chaos-worshipping cults.[3c]
Notable Chaos Cults[]
Notable Cults of Khorne[]
Notable Cults of Slaanesh[]
Notable Cults of Nurgle[]
Notable Cults of Tzeentch[]
- F'thaktoi B'kah (meaning, "Penultimate Change")
Other Notable Chaos Cults[]
Sources[]
- 1: Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay 2nd Edition: Old World Bestiary (RPG)
- 1a: pg. 8
- 2: Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay 2nd Edition: Tome of Corruption (RPG)
- 3: Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay 2nd Edition: Tome of Salvation (RPG)
- 4: Total War: Warhammer III (PC Game)
- 5: Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay 3rd Edition: Liber Carnagia- The Book of Blood (RPG)
- 6: Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay 3rd Edition: Liber Infectus - The Book of Plague (RPG)