Name: Lord Ligarius, the Diseased.
Age: 600
Gender: Male
Race: Chaos Space Marine
Height:7’2”(12’6” in armor
Weight: 365 (3000 in armor)
Appearance:
Equipment: Terminator Armor,Power Maul blessed by Nurgle to constantly ooze pus and rust armour that it hits, stab the butt of it into flesh or the soil and corruption follows.
Powers: Blessing of Nurgle: As a Plague Lord, Ravager is immune to pain and disease, and is arguably one of the toughest beings to kill, not counting his legions of Plague brothers.. He can spread his diseases through his pus and blood
Nurgle’s Rot: A fog of disease that follows the wielder around.
Disturbing Voice and Intimidation
Rank Among Chaos: Plague Lord
Bio: A former Space Marine, and former follower of the chapter of the Death Spectres, he was a skilled melee warrior priding himself on his sheer strength. Unfortunately, his strength failed him one day, as he and his men were overcome on a mission gone horribly, horribly wrong. As his men around him died, and he himself was mortally wounded. At first, he felt as if he was dying, and indeed he was-his injuries had gone septic, and his life was now agonizing pain. In this time of pain, he was visited by dreams and whispers of a Great Unclean One, persuading him to give his soul to Grandfather Nurgle. For a day and a half, his world was nothing but pain and disease and dreams and whispers, until finally, he gave his soul, and in return, his soul was branded with allegiance to Nurgle.
Now a Plague Marine, and aspiring champion, he worked towards gaining Terminator armor, so as better to suit his newfound purpose spreading the entropy and decay that Nurgle bestows upon and blesses humanity with. However, obtaining this armor within the treacherous territory would not be easy, even if he was now a dedicated servant of the Plague Lord, immune to pain. As it stood, however, he needed to find a set. Yet there were still more obstacles in his way; he and his former crew-now just a handful of Plague Marines-still had to find their way off world, and so they set out, travelling to the nearest inhabited city, infecting it in a matter of days before killing any remaining resistance and taking a ship in search of Terminator armor.
This did not take long, as the voice of the Great Unclean One led him across the vast, endless sea of space , through dozens of enemies, to a warband led by a Champion decked in Terminator Armor. The battle was fierce, and lasted longer than he expected it to, but in the end, as all things do, his enemy died;the cause was by his hands; regrettably the armor was damaged by the prolonged conflict, yet, after days of fighting, he won,and the armor was his. This was not a surprise as he heeded his master; thus, good things were bound to follow. Yet now, even as he was heavily armored. The weapons he had used up to this point served his purpose of spreading the corruption and rot of Grandfather Nurgle, but no longer. Now, he heeded the words of the Daemon once again, and sought out a Plague Mace, once used by a Champion of Nurgle, now lost in a desert world. Once again, he listened and was rewarded, forcing his own men to search or die.
They, however, were not as loyal to Nurgle and thus they died, as all things do, forcing him to not only find it himself, but bring the warband of a nearby cult of Nurgle under heel. For fifty years, he and his men wandered the desert, until finally they found the mace, hidden within the ruins of a starship. Finally having his Mace, he thought that the Lord of Decay would leave him to his own ambitions, but it seems the Grandfather has other ideas….
Aligned: Nurgle
Retinue: 20 Plague Marines of lesser ability, 40 Plaguebearers, and 6000 cultists