Cath Posted March 23, 2009 Share Posted March 23, 2009 “Tell me what you know about Sister Superior Mirandrel,” he demanded. “You were with her through a majority of her service. I want to know everything that you know, Sister Kalithera.” The Inquisitor before her drummed his fingers on the metal table. It was an art, the way that the Inquisitors always seemed to be capable of shrouding themselves in shadow. Normal humans might’ve felt fear in his presence. Sister Superior Kalithera did not. “I can only tell you what I know, Inquisitor,” she replied, her voice as rigid and stoic as her body was in the uncomfortable chair. “She was reserved. Even as her squad commander I learned very little about her during our decade of service together.” Sister Kalithera sighed, clasping her hands together. For a moment, the need to pray washed over her, but she pushed it aside. “I was her squad leader during the purge of Jamael IV. When the cancer of the Great Enemy infected our world we mobilized quickly from our convent there.” She closed her eyes. “We were in the vanguard of the assault…” -------------------------------------------------------------------- The Rhino bounced over the rough terrain, jarring her head inside of her helmet. Already she could feel a kink beginning to form in her neck. She thought of the glorious purge to come, the burning of the heretics and his cries as he was torn asunder by bolter fire. It brought a comforting smile to her lips. “Weapons check, Sisters,” she ordered, checking her bolter. It was no less immaculate than the last five times she’d checked it. Nearly every inch of its length was covered in some form of religious iconography. The weapon itself was white as her armor, with every individual symbol plated in gold. Her Sisters were doing the same themselves, except for Sister Felidra and Sister Chalia, both of whom were tending to their special weapons. Unconsciously, she found herself looking at one of the newer recruits. This was to be her first foray onto the battlefield. Surely she’d heard stories, the way the people spoke of the combat here on the planet. Then it occurred to her. Perhaps she knew. Perhaps she relished what it meant, the prospect of combat with the Great Enemy, and the chance to kill and die in the Emperor’s name. She spoke up, “Superior Kalithera, will you bless us?” “The Enemy will bless us, Sister Mirandrel. They will present themselves to us so that we may cleanse them, and send their broken bodies back to their gods. The enemy will know that the Order of the Sacred Cloth is not to be trifled with. Only then will the Emperor bless us.” She nodded solemnly, setting herself back into her work. Kalithera took a last glance at her before setting aside her bolter in favor of her chainsword. She held it up to the secured light in the top of the transport. Its serrated teeth gleamed in the dim light like miniature suns. Dangling from its side was a waxen seal, a tattered strip of paper clinging to the wax. She thumbed the activation button. With a low grumble that rose to a feverish shriek, the serrated teeth began to move. She removed her thumb and the blade’s motor died down again. She clasped it to her side and lifted her bolter off the long bench. “Contacts ahead, Emperor protect you Sisters. We’ll provide you with cover and fire support,” said the driver, her voice amplified and distorted by the intercom that conveyed her words. The tank lurched, picking up speed for only a brief moment before grinding itself to a screeching halt. Then came the turn, the tank pivoting in the opposite direction so that what was once the front became the back. She was firing before her mind had consciously recognized the enemy presence before her. From her left and right her Sisters too opened fire. The heretics’ short screams were silenced by the roar of their bolters. From their weapons arose the thin white smoke of gunpowder, and the acrid smell that came with the discharge of each miniature rocket from the gun. Kalithera turned crouching. In mid-twist she brought her bolter to bear, leveling it at her opponent as he fired; the shot bounced pathetically off her thick armor. The bolt she put through his torso wasn’t as forgiving. The krump of the bolter was followed by the recoil, the heavy pistol barely tossing her hand. The explosive round crashed into the human across from her, ignoring his armor with contemptuous ease. It burrowed into flesh where a millisecond later it exploded in a flash of gore, tearing his chest cavity open. Sister Mirandrel held one of the men by his neck, using his underarm as a support for her weapon as she unleashed hell. He made a good shield at least, Kalithera thought as his teammates opened fire despite his protests. He jerked spasmodically as the searing blue bolts lanced into his body, throwing burnt pieces of flesh about like a child on a tantrum. Even then, Mirandrel fired, despite the fact that her once-living shield was rapidly being reduced to a charred mass. Her shots were far more effective than theirs. Her bolter, like Kalithera’s bolt pistol completely ignored their meager body armor, leaving a path of explosive destruction wherever the shells struck. It was difficult to see, but every so often when her weapon would flash she could see Mirandrel’s lips moving. The movement was familiar, even though she could only catch pieces of it. She was reciting the litany of death! Though her voice didn’t carry over the sound of combat her actions cause Kalithera to remember the words to the litany as well. A shiver crawled up her spine - not one of fright or anger, but one of pleasure. Her soul burst in delight as with renewed vigor she set on her foes. She slung her bolter over her shoulder and drew the chainsword from its place at her hip, charging into the fray without care, feeling the words of the prayer lift her spirits and strengthen her body. She felt lighter than air, darting in between her foes with skill and an unnatural speed as she quickly outpaced her Sisters. She knocked aside the weapon of one of the heretics, causing his shot to go wide. She drove the spiked armor of her knee into his belly, folding him over, and slashed off his head with the return strike of her sword. Flecks of blood stained her white armor and golden tabard. She rounded about quickly on the next, bringing her chainsword around in an arc only to find that Sister Mirandrel already had him by the throat, her hand squeezing as she pinned him down with her weight. In her hand she held her sword, and as she raised it to the sky the light of the sun caught the blade. Kalithera looked aside as Mirandrel was bathed in golden light. Mirandrel plunged the weapon down into the heretic. There was a soft splatter of blood that arose from her attack, the liquid catching and clinging to her face. Kalithera turned back and could see on Mirandrel’s lips the faint outlines of a smile. --------------------------------------------------------------------- “My lord Inquisitor,” Kalithera began, “Sister Mirandrel loved nothing more than to do the Emperor’s bidding, no matter what that entailed. She was fearless, compassionate to her Sisters and the loyal servants of the Emperor and merciless to those who revoked our Father.” Kelithera paused, attempting to gauge his reaction through the cloud of shadow that veiled his face. “She was my Sister and her love for the Emperor would rival any of those here. I doubt you could show me a creature who was as pure as she was.” “Doubt is for the enemy, Sister Kalithera.” The Inquisitor replied. She could feel his superior smirk. “Regardless, we will take your testimony into account. You may leave.” “Why do you care to know about her? Is it not enough for you that she is dead?” “It is the way that she lived her life that is our concern.” “Tch.” Kalithera strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her. “Damnable man. I loathe Inquisitors, they believe that they are superior to everything short of the Emperor himself, and hallowed be thy name.” She shook her head. “The price we pay for success.” The Inquisitor watched silently as she strode out of the room before looking to his associates. “Call in the next witness. We will come to the bottom of this swamp. I will know the truth behind Sister Superior Mirandrel and the Choir of Descent.” Link to comment https://bolterandchainsword.com/topic/163892-fluff-for-my-living-saint/ Share on other sites More sharing options...
Grabsnikk Posted March 23, 2009 Share Posted March 23, 2009 Sounds really good so far, keep it up! Link to comment https://bolterandchainsword.com/topic/163892-fluff-for-my-living-saint/#findComment-1926602 Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cath Posted March 23, 2009 Author Share Posted March 23, 2009 Yeah, I haven't completed it yet. :jaw: Link to comment https://bolterandchainsword.com/topic/163892-fluff-for-my-living-saint/#findComment-1927376 Share on other sites More sharing options...
Brother Idaeus Posted March 24, 2009 Share Posted March 24, 2009 Good work, very well done. I just hope she doesnt turn into like a brutal commisar, :jaw: Link to comment https://bolterandchainsword.com/topic/163892-fluff-for-my-living-saint/#findComment-1928150 Share on other sites More sharing options...
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