Untitled [40k] Sisters of Battle

[Brannick]

I have an additional segment already written for this story, but it is a bit 'full on' in terms of its graphic content, as I really wanted to portray the opposing force as I see them. Hope you enjoy nonetheless. Thanks.

 

*

 

‘But the odds were far greater than expected,’ Eugenia bemoaned, ‘it would have been madness to have stayed against odds overwhelming.’

 

‘That is not your call to make, Sister.’ There was a most evident air of foreboding within the response from the Canoness, who strode down the dark corridor of the Ecclesiarchal Chapel with Eugenia in tow.

 

‘I of course appreciate that Ma’am, but as you know, communications were down – someone had to make a decision.’

 

‘I am hearing far too many “buts” for my liking, Eugenia.’ The Canoness stopped in her tracks, causing her red cape to swirl around her form as a result of the sudden movement. ‘Losing the Manufactorum and the guarding Shrine to Persephone is unacceptable to this Ordo,’ proclaimed Nomenica through gritted teeth.

 

The Canoness went for something on her belt, which caused Eugenia to take a clear step back with a look of fear present in her glistening eyes.

 

‘You would have been executed long before now if it had been my intention, Sister,’ exclaimed the Canoness who tossed a dataslate to Eugenia who caught it within her left hand. ‘He wasn’t supposed to be arriving for another six months, but as you can see, news travels fast!’

 

Eugenia scanned the text housed within the green glow of the dataslate.

 

‘My goodness Ma’am, I truly did not appreciate…’ Nomenica put her hand out to stop Eugenia mid sentence.

 

‘Needless to say Eugenia,’ the Canoness took the dataslate back and re-housed it upon her belt. ‘Matters have escalated somewhat. Leave me now; I shall deal with the imminent arrival of Lord Vos myself.’

 

Eugenia saluted her senior officer and turned back down the darkened corridor. A few paces were taken before she halted and turned once more. ‘Thank you Canoness.’

 

‘Your prayers are far from answered yet my Sister,’ smiled Nomenica, who recommenced her stride with such haste that the torches lining the walls flickered in the breeze as she passed.

 

* * *

 

‘It is quite clearly a heinous travesty,’ said Vos, as he entered the quarters of the Canoness.

 

The Lord Inquisitor paced towards Nomenica who stood to greet him with outstretched hand, which was bypassed as the Inquisitor slapped the decorated Battle Sister squarely across the face with the back of his exposed hand.

 

‘Did I or did I not explain the utmost importance of retaining the Manufactorum and the accompanying Shrine before I departed to attend to other matters?’ Vos sarcastically inquired.

 

Nomenica wiped a trickle of blood from her lower lip, her eyes narrowing as she stood tall once more to confront the Inquisitor.

 

‘You did, Lord Vos.’

 

‘I know I did,’ spat the Inquisitor. ‘I also recall clearly enlightening you about the repercussions for ten billion or so Imperial citizens in the Van Hadron sector if this planet were to be overrun, did I not?’ Vos took a step toward Nomenica, who matched the gaze of the Lord Inquisitor with hardened proficiency.

 

Nomenica bowed slightly. ‘Indeed my Lord.’

 

Vos proceeded to tear a purity seal from the left shoulder plate of the bowed Canoness. ‘Protector of the dais to the all honourable Persephone is hardly earned, I am sure you would agree?’

 

The Canoness stood tall. ‘It is not an honour that I presently befit my Lord.’

 

Vos shook his head in a way that Nomenica thought was desperately patronising in light of her position. Her stature had been deflated in all but a few moments of the arrival of the Inquisitor, albeit in private. It was as if she was being punished by the schooling Sisters of the old Ecclesiarchal Librarium where her tutoring had begun, yet she knew and expected as much.

 

‘What now my Lord?’

 

Vos beckoned forth an accompanying servo skull, which plugged itself in to the armour of the Inquisitor. ‘Now we must rectify this shambolic situation, so that I do not have to force you to answer the questions of the entire populace of the Van Hadron sector.’ The servo skull detached and made its way to the door of the quarters. ‘And I will find my own accommodation whilst here,’ Vos snapped, as he coiled in a single motion and marched out in to the poorly lit corridor to be escorted by a number of his retinue who had awaited his exit.

 

Nomenica pushed the large metallic bulkhead shut before slumping in to her velveteen upholstered chair that sat centrally to her mahogany desk. ‘He may not have known, but I can feel you in here, show yourself’ requested the Canoness, who gazed almost idly around her own room searching for her answer. A glint caught her eye at the far right end of her quarters at the point where the wall joins with the ceiling.

 

‘So, you have returned. Mission successful I hope?’ A figure clad head to toe in a black skin-suit began to almost seep from the dark recesses of Nomenica’s personal chamber. ‘I could do with some better news, as you can no doubt appreciate, after the week I have had.’

 

The Death-Cult Assassin walked silently across the room sheathing her sword as she progressed.

 

A soft emission from a mechanical agitator in the throat of the Assassin drew a more interested response from the Canoness. The Assassin placed her hand upon the dark wood of the desk that Nomenica sat behind. The Canoness leaned forward. ‘Well?’

 

The Assassin cocked her head in a robotic fashion. ‘Perhaps my next mission could relieve you of your new guest?’

 

Nomenica raised an eyebrow and stood, causing her chair to discharge a yawning squeal as the wooded feet were pushed against the floorboards. ‘A nice thought, my friend, but turning two problems in to three at present certainly isn’t going to help ten billion souls in Van Hadron now is it?’ The Canoness winked at the Assassin who looked at her inquisitively before conducting a small bow.

 

A mutual understanding was forged.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Canoness allowed the white silken robe to slip from her shoulders as she stood alongside the bathing pool. Her first step down in to the bubbling water was tentative, testing the temperature with her right foot.

 

Nomenica’s lady in waiting entered the chamber carrying a wicker basket brimming to the full with accoutrements.

 

‘I hope I have found the correct warmth for you my Mistress?’ Amelia smiled as she placed the laden basket upon the marble surround of the pool.

 

A second step soon followed by a third was taken down in to the water; her olive skin tone a stark contrast to the turquoise content of the pool. ‘Perfect,’ the Canoness beamed as she turned on the bottom step, allowing her body to sink back in to the effervescent cauldron of the spa.

 

Nomenica surfaced moments later, her body floating almost motionless, caressed by the water’s gentle embrace. Her eyes were closed, exposing the length of her lashes against an unblemished complexion.

 

The bubbles dissipated revealing the womanly curves so rarely seen outside of Imperial armour. ‘Please Ma’am, permit me to wash your hair, it has lost much of its lustre of late.’ Amelia was knelt at the side of the pool opposite to where Nomenica lay in apparent tranquillity upon the surface.

 

‘My years are increasing Amelia, as are my responsibilities to my rank. Time does not often afford me the luxury to pamper.’

 

‘I understand Ma’am, forgive my intrusion?’ The shyness within Amelia’s tone was replaced with an air of shame.

 

‘Now, now. You are right Amelia; I should make the most of this opportunity as I certainly do not know when the next will arrive.’ Nomenica turned herself over and swam the short way to the edge of the pool. ‘Please do wash my hair, it would be appreciated,’ she smiled at her aide.

 

Amelia poured a slug of purple product, from a glass bottle, in to the palm of her left hand.

 

‘Mmmm, is that lavender?’

 

‘Yes Ma’am.’

 

‘How on Terra have you acquired this?’ Nomenica put her head back so that she was looking up at Amelia, who knelt over her, but appeared upside down to the view of the Canoness.

 

The lady in waiting could not stifle a small laugh. ‘Perhaps some secrets are best left as just that?’

 

Amelia ran her hands through the dark hair of her Mistress. Lather escalated with the massage of each hand across the scalp and a whole assortment of brown colourings came to the fore as Nomenica’s clean hair began to take precedence. ‘Ok, I am done. How does that feel?’

 

Nomenica pushed herself away from the edge of the pool, her hair splayed across the surface of the water in a wondrous rainbow of brown tints and shades. ‘Like I am a new woman,’ she laughed; to be joined with the delicate laughter of her aide.

 

There was a brief moment of silence between the two women, which brought the constant drone of the air conditioning units to the fore.

 

‘It does worry me that events here could claim us all. And it concerns me how the Inquisitor has treated you.’

 

The words hit Nomenica like a power-mace and instantly brought her own thoughts back to bear. She stood herself upright in the pool; the water level decreased from below her breasts down to her thighs as she made her way to sit on the steps from which she had entered. Amelia scuttled around to where the Canoness sat, carrying the swiftly packed basket awkwardly on her arm as she made haste. She again knelt behind the Canoness, but this time pouring a transparent liquid on to a cloth, which she then attentively smoothed in circles across Nomenica’s back.

 

‘Times are indeed hard, Amelia. But such troubles are not for you to concern yourself with.’ Nomenica reached in to the water with both hands and cupped the contents, splashing herself across her thighs.

 

‘But this enemy appears to have arrived here without warning and very quickly?’ Amelia further inquired as she guided the foam further down Nomenica’s back.

 

‘That is true. There was no warning of their arrival and they have struck quickly and accurately against some of our main defences and fortifications.’ Nomenica pulled her long, straight hair from its lank position across her back, so as to clear the way for Amelia to wash her upper back and neck.

 

‘But we are the guiding light of The Emperor and we shall cleanse this planet of the foul xenos that has dared walk across its soil.’ The Canoness could feel her blood rising at the thought of combat.

 

‘For The Emperor,’ Amelia whispered, knowing full well that her Sister would hear.

 

‘For The Emperor,’ was the response.

 

‘Come Amelia, I have preparations to make and orders to relay.’ Nomenica stood unexpectedly, water pouring from her form. She walked past the still kneeling Amelia who clambered to re-stock the basket. ‘As much as I would like to indulge for the remainder of the day there are far more important things that I need to attend to.’

 

Amelia paced after the Canoness who strode across the black and white marble tiles in all her glory, leaving a trail of water and foam in her wake. The aide stopped momentarily to collect her Mistresses white robe before joining her within the dressing room.

 

The Canoness had begun to towel herself down in a hurried manner, with a distinct lack of grace to the whole procedure.

 

‘Please Ma’am, allow me?’

 

Nomenica paused, realising that she was a complete novice at the task she was attempting.

 

‘Thank you, Amelia.’

 

‘It won’t take me long to get you ready for your armour.’ Amelia took the downy white towel from the Canoness. ‘I asked two of my fellow aides to make preparations before I arrived to help you bathe,’ she continued.

 

‘You clearly know me too well, Amelia.’

 

The aide to the Canoness placed the towel over a pin on the far wall, before once again reaching within her wicker basket. This time Amelia produced a short cylindrical bottle that had a silver lid and a powder brush. She unscrewed the lid and placed it on the bench underneath where the towel hung; dipping the brush inside the bottle before dabbing the powdery ashen contents haphazardly across Nomenica’s skin.

 

‘I do not mean to speak out of turn Ma’am, but do you think the Inquisitor is aware of the presence of Danica?’

 

Nomenica realised that she was to turn her body around, after she noticed the encouragement of Amelia who had put a small amount of twisting pressure across her left thigh. The brushing of the powder continued as Nomenica turned 180 degrees.

 

‘We are the only ones to know that a Death-Cult Assassin is present on this world, Amelia.’ The lady in waiting looked up in to the hazel eyes of her Mistress and noted the concern. ’And the fact that Danica is my Sister by blood will not be knowledge the Inquisitor will glean from either of us.’

 

Amelia could not hold the gaze of the Canoness. ‘Yes Ma’am.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

‘Come.’

 

Nomenica stood from behind her desk as the bulkhead door to her quarters swung inwardly open. The Mistress of the Seraphim entered the chamber; she was the last to arrive out of the four high-ranking Sisters the Canoness had summoned,

 

Vicenza removed her helm as she crossed the threshold, revealing an attractiveness unsurpassed by any of the other occupants of the room. An unremarkable curtsy was given in the direction of the Canoness who now walked towards the late arrival.

 

‘It is good to see you, my Sister.’

 

The Mistress of the Seraphim beamed a resplendent smile back at her superior officer as they clasped forearms.

 

‘As it is to see you, Ma’am,’ Vicenza replied.

 

It was outside the realms of protocol, but the pair exchanged a brief hug in recognition of their length of service together within the Order of the Crimson Shroud.

 

‘My apologies for dragging you away from the more pressing matter of front line battle, but events have taken a further turn, Vicenza.’ Nomenica turned and gestured for the head of the Seraphim to take a seat next to her three similarly decorated Sisters.

 

The Canoness returned to her velveteen seat and a murmur of acknowledgements ran down the line of seated Sisters as Vicenza also took up her position.

 

Nomenica leant down and opened the bottom drawer of her mahogany desk. A series of automated blips could be heard before the very distinct sound of a pressure seal being broken. The Canoness adjusted her position in the ornate chair before leaning forwards across the desk.

 

‘Magda, pass these along would you?’

 

The Principal of the Celestians did as she was asked, handing the dataslates along the row to her colleagues.

 

Four pairs of eyes began to scan the content, absorbing and digesting page after page of information. Drenthe, Patriarch of the Repentia, was the first to speak.

 

‘How sure can we be that this information is accurate?’

 

There was a lengthy pause as the Canoness re-read the information once more; she became very aware that her senior commanders awaited a response.

 

‘One could easily surmise that the premature arrival of Lord Vos was timed, more likely than not, to coincide with what you have just read, rather than to enforce our chastisement due to the loss of the Shrine and Manufactorum.’

 

Nods of agreement were unanimous between the Sisters.

 

‘And how long before the arrival of the Blood Angels?’ Drenthe enquired. ‘I do like a Space Marine with a bit of bite!’ The Patriarch stood and exposed her near naked form; the outfit she wore left almost nothing to the imagination.

 

Laughter decorated the quarters as Drenthe simulated her attempt to capture the eye of a Blood Angels marine by running her hands through her long blonde hair and, at the same time, undulating her trim torso and curvaceous hips.

 

Nomenica shook her head with a despairing look.

 

‘Oh come now, Nomenica,’ Vicenza interjected having seen the expression of the Canoness. ‘It’s not as if Drenthe isn’t in the right place already for her continued repentance.’

 

Nomenica could not stifle her laugh any longer. ‘I do think the Angels will have an easier time dealing with the forces of Chaos than taming our dear sister.’

 

The Canoness looked across at her Sisters with a true feeling of kinship and warmth. She would die for any of them and they the same for her.

 

Vicenza was beauty personified. Her perfect, blemish-free tanned skin a marked contrast to her fine cropped white-as-snow hair. Chiselled dainty features gave the Mistress of the Seraphim a childlike look, which could quite easily have betrayed her position and stature to those without knowledge. The most unusual purple eyes would draw many to her gaze, a feature that Vicenza shared with Nomenica and all others born upon the world of Dagrafor.

 

Magda and Clara could have been separated at birth as they looked so similar. Both had a pale, battle-hardened appearance that over-stated their years, and their height and body shape was comparable, almost too slight for them to have made recruitment. Nomenica often wondered, when within their presence, how they had ever entered the ranks, but their service records were lengthy and impeccable; small wonder that the Celestians and Battle Sisters had flourished under their respective tutelage.

 

The Patriarch of the Repentia was an altogether different prospect. Self aware, dominant, egotistical and brash – Drenthe was not backwards in going forwards and that often involved the use of her prized Eviscerator. ‘Voluptuous and deadly’ was the line Drenthe liked to use, and she knew how to use her form in a way that would not have been tolerated if she had been a part of any other squad. Many a time had the Canoness seen the long swathe of blonde hair run head-long in to an enemy assault and live to tell the tale. Drenthe had the heart of a champion who knew only too well that every battle would likely be her last.

 

‘Sisters, Sisters, it makes me smile to see such spirits and warmth in these tough times. Your support is a continued blessing brought to me by our beloved Emperor, his seat on Terra we praise,’

 

‘We praise,’ came the uniform reply.

 

‘But, you now know why it was of the utmost urgency for me to assemble you here today. We must clear a safe path for our inbound support and we must act swiftly.’

 

‘We go to battle together,’ the Canoness continued.

 

‘And together we will return victorious,’ came the harmonized response.

[*Furyou Miko]

Uhh... apart from the fact that a Sister shouldn't show fear, only repentance, when faced with the possibility of summary execution, and that no Canoness would let some upstart Inquisitor beat her like a habwife, it's a start.

[Lady_Canoness]

I find your usage of "ma'am" awkward considering this is a religious order. "Sister" or "My Lady" would likely be more fitting.

 

Otherwise, cool.

[GooseDaMoose]

If I may offer some hopefully constructive criticism:

 

You have some pure linguistic errors in that a woman can not be a patriarch. It means something like "Father-Leader". You're thinking of matriarch. Also you can't really say "Show yourself!" is a request. The "ma'am" thing aswell, Lady_Cannoness mentioned it. Also, the word "goodness" is a euphemism for God, as in the Christian God, and I doubt anyone in the 40k universe uses that term. And yeah, Inquisitors can't go around smacking Cannonesses..

 

Your characters don't seem to be based on the Sisters of Battle fluff in any way. They come off more as the contestants in Ultramar's Next Top Model than warrior-nuns raised since birth (?) to be vicious, battle-hardened, no-nonsense, badass soldiers. During the bathing scene I was expecting the erotic music to start and for her attendant to get in the bath with her. I think on a purely physiological level the amount of muscle mass that these women have would prevent them much of the "womanly curves" you describe, and so what if she dries herself off with a "distinct lack of grace"? Warrior-nuns who exist only to smite the Emperor's enemies and nothing else, aren't expected to be graceful. Nor would they hug. And what is this Matriarch of the Seraphim doing talking about seducing the Blood Angels? She's supposed to be a Battle Sister right? Space Marines don't even have functioning sexual organs for crying out loud, and for all intents and purposes neither do the Sisters of Battle. I was almost a little offended reading this cuz you seem to suggest that all this behaviour of hugging and stroking each other lovingly and wanting to have nice-looking hair is inherently a female quality which even years of training and conditioning can't get rid of.

 

Sorry to be a bit harsh. Hopefully it made some sense.

[*Furyou Miko]

>> I skipped most of it after I saw the start of the bath scene.

 

Sisters are recruited from the Schola Progenium for the most part - the same place Commissars, Storm Troopers, and a large percentage of Inquisitorial recruits come from. Also, amusingly, where many high-level members of the Adeptus Administratum originate - they're the ones who don't show enough combat aptitude to go elsewhere, or are simply that much better at management/organisation.

[Brannick]

I appreciate all comments, feedback and criticism. It's funny, when writing, that a simple term such as 'My Lady' doesn't spring to mind, I like that though.

 

As you have probably guessed, this is written from my own perceptions and enjoyment of the 40k universe and not the standardised parameters that are pre determined as what should be followed. For example, who says a Lord Inquisitor cannot slap a Canoness, who says the Sisters of Battle have to be undefined slabs of meat? The Sisters I have seen in artwork look quite womanly and I have never seen anything canon that says a Lord Inquisitor could not do what he did - it's all based on what we prefer/believe should occur or not occur, so how can I be wrong :)

 

We can be as creative as we wish with this universe, I fully accept that what I am writing will be deemed as 'outside of the grain' and, therefore, I automatically run the risk of being busted, but I can accept that.

 

It feels really good to read your comments though, as I don't intend to fully dismiss them because of my 'style' and my perceptions.

 

BIG thanks.

[GooseDaMoose]

I'm sorry but it's not about your perceptions, it's a matter of facts. You can be as opinionated as you want, but you can't deny the truth of a known and stated fact. Besides we have to assume some things just aren't possible in this universe to make a believable and entertaining 40K story. When you're writing a story based in an already established universe, at the very least your basic facts have to be in tune.

 

But, as I'm in danger of sounding too much like a fluff Nazi, it's not even that much about what's "fluff-correct". It's just that you didn't create believable Sisters of Battle, which was my main issue. If these were Imperial Guardsmen (or women, rather) I could believe that they would joke about seducing a Space Marine or have more womanly curves and getting all frisky with their own attendants because they're normal human women. But not no-nonsense, baddass warrior-nuns.

 

I'll give you the Inquisitor thing though, they are pretty much allowed to do what they want. It was just shocking to see him smacking a Cannoness around like a drunken husband :P

 

And I hate to be a bit of a dick here, but the phrase is "against the grain," and please don't take this as "being busted" just because you "dare" to be unorthodox in your writing style; you're getting criticised, which, frankly, you should expect when posting on this site. I didn't mean to be unfriendly, and I apologise to have come across as rude if I did, but I thought that you might want the feedback, if you ever mean to write believable 40k fiction, even just for fun.

[Brannick]

I take it all in good heart, Goose.

 

You taking time to make your point clear is appreciated, it really is. It's enjoyable for me to read the differing opinions as, mentioned before, I accept the story is from my own vision and perceptions of the 40k 'verse, which the majority may not agree with. It's all fiction and not reality, so we can have fun with it, which allows for differing perceptions and interpretations. Can we use 'assume' and 'fact' together - that's for another time.

[GooseDaMoose]

You're right. I got too worked up about it :D I apologise.

It's your story, your perception and your vision, and your Sisters of Battle can do exactly what they want

[Brannick]

Ha ha - you are not wrong at all, Goose. I know I am in the minority, so it's cool. Folks do tend to want to slap me :D

 

We can all 'see' what we want to see. All your points and those made by the others are valid and thorough and I am grateful for them.

 

You are passionate about the hobby we both enjoy and that is commedable. Your dialogue is passionate too, it didn't come across like you were being a hot-head.