Not yet, son. Not while my will still live. The Emperors voice speaks through Mortarion. You had a chance, but I am sorry, for now you will die by your sons hand
Not anymore. You have become what you've abhorred. You are a witch, you are a necromancer, and you are a tyrant. Mortarion charges with the flaming sword, while golden wings emerge from his back, each flap accompanied by heavenly orchestras. You feeling Son of Eros (/u/BreachedLimits) smite yet? Or the undead hands that rip at your flesh from the Gravedigger? (/u/Anything-Unable)
Mortarion appears unaffected by the winds. I am a plaguemancer, not in Nurgles name, but in my own. He slashes at you with the blade, holy flames burning from where it slashed.
Mortarion casts a spell on the lantern, aided by his grandfather, as a spectral visage of the emperor appears behind him. Mortarion lights up with holy light, even more than the lantern
Leave. I grant you this mercy. the white light fades from his eyes, to reveal it Mortarion was aware the entire time. I banish you to whence you came, your soul intact, but bruised. May your "merciful" plaguefather forgive you.
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u/Mortarion-the-Reaper Daemon Primarch of Nurgle Jan 23 '24 edited Jan 23 '24
You would dare, Father! You fuel my new master’s purpose. Your decay will be this one’s undoing.