The Plaguefather rides upon a massive palanquin bedecked with alchemical paraphernalia: vials full of seething powder, flasks of indescribable liquid and hessian sacks stuffed to bursting with Nurglings. This great bulk is held aloft by a carpet of straining Nurglings, and Ku’gath is attended on by countless others, all bred from the Plaguefather's pox vats. Ku'gath's Nurglings are not merely servants — they are also ammunition, for in battle Ku'gath is wont to hurl them into the enemy ranks. The unwilling projectiles burst on impact, drenching the target with disease-ridden fluids. Ku'gath watches keenly as each Nurgling's pox takes effect. Should the plague achieve Ku'gath's expectation, he gurgles with a proud father’s delight. If the results do not meet with approval, Ku'gath immediate