You know you're a Sister of Battle player when...

[Servant of Dante]

Ah, thanks. That makes sense.

[Bjorn Firewalker]

When you're actually excited about new Space Marines models, because you want to poach their vehicles to make up for your Adepta Sororitas army's long-neglected deficiencies.

 

Me (putting a Sororitas Stalker next to my Sororitas Vindicator, my Whirlwind-turned-Exorcist, and my Razorback-turned-Immolator): "The Corvus Blackstar looks great, and is just what my girls need for an Eighth Edition battlefield! I better get more fleurs-de-lis for that conversion."

[Bjorn Firewalker]

When you kitbash Nemesis Dreadknights into Penitent Engines- posing the penitent with one foot planted in the back of its former Grey Knight pilot, as retribution for what Matt Ward did.

[Drider]

When you kitbash Nemesis Dreadknights into Penitent Engines- posing the penitent with one foot planted in the back of its former Grey Knight pilot, as retribution for what Matt Ward did.

 

I haz hat also!

  

[Knight of the Raven]

When you're actually excited about new Space Marines models, because you want to poach their vehicles to make up for your Adepta Sororitas army's long-neglected deficiencies.

 

Me (putting a Sororitas Stalker next to my Sororitas Vindicator, my Whirlwind-turned-Exorcist, and my Razorback-turned-Immolator): "The Corvus Blackstar looks great, and is just what my girls need for an Eighth Edition battlefield! I better get more fleurs-de-lis for that conversion."

Uh, I thought I was the only hobbyist in the world who wanted to pilfer the entirety of the Imperium's armory for the Sisters of Battle.

 

You know you're a sister of battle player when you have modeled an Adepta Sororitas armored sentinel with multimelta.

 

You know you're a bad sister of battle player when this same kitbash has been watching you with puppy eyes from your painting table for like a year and the only coat it has ever received is one of dust.

[Lord Grimskull]

You know you're a sisters of battle player when, your head cannon features more sororitas characters than the table top does.

Edited December 12, 2017 by Lord Grimskull

[Bjorn Firewalker]

You know you're a sisters of battle player when, your head cannon features more sororitas characters than the table top does.

Do you mean "head canon," as in your personal list of Adepta Sororitas members you recognize as Imperial saints? Or "head-mounted cannon," as in something like this?

 

Incidentally, you know you're a Sister of Battle (or closeted Tech-priest) when you try shoehorning the Holy Trinity of weapons into every single model you have- going so far as to give Sisters helmet-mounted meltaguns, so one hand is free to wield a combi-flamer. (The other hand wields a chainsword or a power sword, so they may shed blood in the God-Emperor's name.)

Edited December 12, 2017 by Bjorn Firewalker

[Servant of Dante]

I mean, the current tabletop has exactly 3 Sororitas characters, if you count Celestine and the twins as Sororitas (they are, more or less, in my view). Edited December 12, 2017 by Servant of Dante

[taikishi]

 

When you're actually excited about new Space Marines models, because you want to poach their vehicles to make up for your Adepta Sororitas army's long-neglected deficiencies.

 

Me (putting a Sororitas Stalker next to my Sororitas Vindicator, my Whirlwind-turned-Exorcist, and my Razorback-turned-Immolator): "The Corvus Blackstar looks great, and is just what my girls need for an Eighth Edition battlefield! I better get more fleurs-de-lis for that conversion."

Uh, I thought I was the only hobbyist in the world who wanted to pilfer the entirety of the Imperium's armory for the Sisters of Battle.

 

You know you're a sister of battle player when you have modeled an Adepta Sororitas armored sentinel with multimelta.

 

You know you're a bad sister of battle player when this same kitbash has been watching you with puppy eyes from your painting table for like a year and the only coat it has ever received is one of dust.

 

 

I don't want to pilfer the entire Imperium Armory. Just bikes, Sentinels, Russes, Predators, Stalkers, Vindicators, Centurions, Avenger Strike Fighters, Land Raiders, maybe one other tank.

 

You know you're a bad Sisters of Battle player when you planned on kitbashing an A-10 model and Ju 87 into two Avengers back in 7th and they're still in the box.

 

You know you're a bad Sisters of Battle player when you planned on assembling a MkIV Female tank and several M113s to convert into a Land Raider, Rhinos, Repressors and Immolators... and they're only half-assembled and the only coat they've received is one of dust.

 

You know you're a bad Sisters of Battle player when you have an actual Repressor you planned on magnetizing so you could swap between Repressor, Immolator and Rhino as you deem and it's still in its packaging from Forge World.

[Knight of the Raven]

You know you're a bad Sisters of Battle player when you have an actual Repressor you planned on magnetizing so you could swap between Repressor, Immolator and Rhino as you deem and it's still in its packaging from Forge World.

Can't say this feeling is familiar. *discretely pushes years-old Macharius Vulcan box meant to bolster the Order of Our Martyred Lady back under the bed*

 

You know you're a terrible sister of battle player when you spend more time fleeing the Mistress of Repentias than praying.

 

To avoid encouraging more of my perverting of the original topic... you know you're a sister of battle player when you spend several minutes trying different armors on the female Commander Shepard from Mass Effect 3 to find out just which looks best for actual Sisters of Battle.

[Bjorn Firewalker]

... you know you're a sister of battle player when you spend several minutes trying different armors on the female Commander Shepard from Mass Effect 3 to find out just which looks best for actual Sisters of Battle.

When you automatically choose the "Control" ending for 'Mass Effect 3', and imagine a post-credits scene in which Shepard orders the Reapers to exterminate all non-human sentient life forms, allowing humans to rule the galaxy unopposed.

 

Suffer not the xeno to live, [female dog]!

[Knight of the Raven]

You know you're a sister of battle player when your sole and unique goal in any Total War: Rome 2 playthrough is to wipe Colchis from the face of the earth. Even when you're on the other side of the map. Because suffer not the birthplace to the Architect of the Heresy to live.

[Drider]

... when roll up late to an apoc game with 4k of sisters, walk onto the table on a random team, start killing exploding deathguard tanks and start raining mortal wounds onto your team mate who is also deathguard.

 

yup. killed about 3000 points worth of deathguard and at least 500 points were my team mate. I mean sure we were taking our turns at the same time but we were never really 'team mates'.

[Wolf_Lord_Hardrada]

When 7 minis and a book come to £74.40. All my tears.

[Aqui]

You know you're a Sisters player, when you find out about the sheer disrespect shown by a member of the Mechanicus:

 

http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/342725-whats-your-favorite-piece-of-lore-thats-often-forgotten/?p=4968644

 

Good to know. Thanks for the info.

 

Here's the whole confrontation over Saint Katherine's book for context (spoiler for Hammer and Anvil):

 

 

Tegas had expected a pistol, a skull, an orb of gold, a crown made of crystal. He had expected something xenos and inhuman, or daemon-made and unholy. A hundred possibilities. But nothing like this.

In his hands he held a book. Thick, secured by dense bindings and a latch that held it shut. There, on the hide cover, etched in gold, the title: The Hammer and Anvil.

His driving curiosity, the one human emotion he had never been able to fully purge from his persona, faded away and was replaced by something else, something rare. Confusion.

The questor carefully opened the book at its first page and coiled his mechadentrites around it, scanning the tome across every possible perceptive range. The form could be illusory, he told himself. There were files on Mars that described things that resembled books, such as the Malus Codicium, the Ravonicum Rex or the Epistles of Lorgar, things that were so much more. Pages encoded with telepathic matrices, subspace memes, even possessed by daemonic energy from the warp. There could be nanoforms within the ink itself, the paper could be psychoactive, even the spine might hide data needles that led to other riches.

He detected nothing, only the great age of the pages. The book was old, on the scale of hundreds of centuries. Tegas blink-transcribed the text into his personal data pool, dragging it through counter-encryption programs, layering it one image atop another, sifting for patterns. He created a disarray of meaningless information, the rational words on the paper rendered into recurring gibberish by his attempts to read something into them.

In his hands he held a book, pages of verses and observations on faith and duty, penned in pious manner but with no sense of focus or aim. It was not a disguise for something else, it was not imbued with preternatural power on any scale that Tegas could detect.

As he scanned it, and scanned it again, the questor's confusion deepened. There was no secret message lurking in these words, no code embedded in the patterns of the text. No blueprints for a weapon so powerful that it could burn a world of heretics. No ethereal powers lying dormant, no binding made of daemon's skin or ink drained from the blood of aliens.

All he held in his hands was a book. Ink and paper and binding.

'This is... nothing else!' Tegas bit out the words, trembling. He shook the container, but only particles of dust fell from it. The questor brandished the tome in his claw grip. 'What is this? What is this?'

'Read the name.' Tegas spun in place and found the woman Miriya standing in the entrance to the chamber. He had been so invested in the relic he had not heard approaching. She was panting, her face bloody, but her manner was reverent. 'The author's name,' she demanded. In her hand she held a smoke-blackened bolter.

Tegas looked down at the title page and read aloud what was written there, scratched in a careful and deliberate hand. 'These words and thoughts are mine. Know me. I am Sister Katherine Elysius, Daughter of the God-Emperor.'

'Blessed be her name, mother of my Order and first among the companions of Alicia Dominica.' Miriya completed the ritual phrase and bobbed her head. She hoped that Saint Katherine could forgive her for failing to make the sign of the aquila, but under the circumstances she did not trust Tegas enough to take her eyes off him. 'You opened it. You have no right to touch it, cog! You dirty the words of my mistress with your presence!'

'Words...' The questor shook his hooded head. 'In the name of Terra, tell me that there is more to this than just words on a page!'

He waved the ancient tome at her and Miriya felt a jolt of fright. She was furious at him for his desecration of the relic, but at the same moment terrified he might damage it. 'Give it to me, or I will kill you where you stand.'

Tegas didn't seem to hear her. 'There is nothing in this, is there? No secret but the one you have invented to surround it!' he shouted. 'How can this worthless text be so highly valued? There is no new knowledge here, no insight that unlocks the universe! It is just a book! I risked everything for the doggerel of a dead nun!'

'You blaspheme my Saint.' Miriya took aim at his head. 'It is her book, you maggot! Written in her own hand, her own words laid down for her Sisters to come. For me! It is faith, in its purest form!'

'I know faith!' Tegas shot back at her. 'I have conviction enough for the Imperial Cult and the Omnissiah!'

'Your only faith is in your own arrogance,' Miriya said coldly. 'You have no understanding of what it is to believe in something bigger than yourself.' The words seemed to come from somewhere far away, as if they were spoken by a part of the Battle Sister that had been silent for many months. 'The Hammer and Anvil is Katherine's soul poured out on paper. You hold the only copy still in existence. The physical matter of it, the pages, the binding... Those things have no value at all. But the inscriptions within, questor... The Martyred Lady herself wrote them. In this, that book is beyond any material worth to the Adepta Sororitas. It is our secret prize, carried from convent to convent to bless each outpost of our Order with Katherine's memory. I wondered why Seraphina fought so hard to return to Sanctuary 101... I did not fully understand fully until she told me of the book.' Miriya glared at him. 'Do you understand now, Tegas? The coin with which you measure the value of the world does not carry to all of us! What you think worthless I see as priceless.'

...don't ask me why a book penned somewhen during M36 is described as being at least twice older than the Imperium...

Actual disgust and anger :angry:

[Atrus]

When you get a heap of cash for christmas but cant spend it in a GW brick and mortar store.

[CaptainHelion]

If you want to spend it in store, you can do an instore order. Basically, you order the goods in the store, on their computer, and you can pay in store and it goes through their system.

[Wolf_Lord_Hardrada]

You know you're a Sisters player, when you find out about the sheer disrespect shown by a member of the Mechanicus:

 

http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/342725-whats-your-favorite-piece-of-lore-thats-often-forgotten/?p=4968644

 

Good to know. Thanks for the info.

 

Here's the whole confrontation over Saint Katherine's book for context (spoiler for Hammer and Anvil):

 

Tegas had expected a pistol, a skull, an orb of gold, a crown made of crystal. He had expected something xenos and inhuman, or daemon-made and unholy. A hundred possibilities. But nothing like this.

In his hands he held a book. Thick, secured by dense bindings and a latch that held it shut. There, on the hide cover, etched in gold, the title: The Hammer and Anvil.

His driving curiosity, the one human emotion he had never been able to fully purge from his persona, faded away and was replaced by something else, something rare. Confusion.

The questor carefully opened the book at its first page and coiled his mechadentrites around it, scanning the tome across every possible perceptive range. The form could be illusory, he told himself. There were files on Mars that described things that resembled books, such as the Malus Codicium, the Ravonicum Rex or the Epistles of Lorgar, things that were so much more. Pages encoded with telepathic matrices, subspace memes, even possessed by daemonic energy from the warp. There could be nanoforms within the ink itself, the paper could be psychoactive, even the spine might hide data needles that led to other riches.

He detected nothing, only the great age of the pages. The book was old, on the scale of hundreds of centuries. Tegas blink-transcribed the text into his personal data pool, dragging it through counter-encryption programs, layering it one image atop another, sifting for patterns. He created a disarray of meaningless information, the rational words on the paper rendered into recurring gibberish by his attempts to read something into them.

In his hands he held a book, pages of verses and observations on faith and duty, penned in pious manner but with no sense of focus or aim. It was not a disguise for something else, it was not imbued with preternatural power on any scale that Tegas could detect.

As he scanned it, and scanned it again, the questor's confusion deepened. There was no secret message lurking in these words, no code embedded in the patterns of the text. No blueprints for a weapon so powerful that it could burn a world of heretics. No ethereal powers lying dormant, no binding made of daemon's skin or ink drained from the blood of aliens.

All he held in his hands was a book. Ink and paper and binding.

'This is... nothing else!' Tegas bit out the words, trembling. He shook the container, but only particles of dust fell from it. The questor brandished the tome in his claw grip. 'What is this? What is this?'

'Read the name.' Tegas spun in place and found the woman Miriya standing in the entrance to the chamber. He had been so invested in the relic he had not heard approaching. She was panting, her face bloody, but her manner was reverent. 'The author's name,' she demanded. In her hand she held a smoke-blackened bolter.

Tegas looked down at the title page and read aloud what was written there, scratched in a careful and deliberate hand. 'These words and thoughts are mine. Know me. I am Sister Katherine Elysius, Daughter of the God-Emperor.'

'Blessed be her name, mother of my Order and first among the companions of Alicia Dominica.' Miriya completed the ritual phrase and bobbed her head. She hoped that Saint Katherine could forgive her for failing to make the sign of the aquila, but under the circumstances she did not trust Tegas enough to take her eyes off him. 'You opened it. You have no right to touch it, cog! You dirty the words of my mistress with your presence!'

'Words...' The questor shook his hooded head. 'In the name of Terra, tell me that there is more to this than just words on a page!'

He waved the ancient tome at her and Miriya felt a jolt of fright. She was furious at him for his desecration of the relic, but at the same moment terrified he might damage it. 'Give it to me, or I will kill you where you stand.'

Tegas didn't seem to hear her. 'There is nothing in this, is there? No secret but the one you have invented to surround it!' he shouted. 'How can this worthless text be so highly valued? There is no new knowledge here, no insight that unlocks the universe! It is just a book! I risked everything for the doggerel of a dead nun!'

'You blaspheme my Saint.' Miriya took aim at his head. 'It is her book, you maggot! Written in her own hand, her own words laid down for her Sisters to come. For me! It is faith, in its purest form!'

'I know faith!' Tegas shot back at her. 'I have conviction enough for the Imperial Cult and the Omnissiah!'

'Your only faith is in your own arrogance,' Miriya said coldly. 'You have no understanding of what it is to believe in something bigger than yourself.' The words seemed to come from somewhere far away, as if they were spoken by a part of the Battle Sister that had been silent for many months. 'The Hammer and Anvil is Katherine's soul poured out on paper. You hold the only copy still in existence. The physical matter of it, the pages, the binding... Those things have no value at all. But the inscriptions within, questor... The Martyred Lady herself wrote them. In this, that book is beyond any material worth to the Adepta Sororitas. It is our secret prize, carried from convent to convent to bless each outpost of our Order with Katherine's memory. I wondered why Seraphina fought so hard to return to Sanctuary 101... I did not fully understand fully until she told me of the book.' Miriya glared at him. 'Do you understand now, Tegas? The coin with which you measure the value of the world does not carry to all of us! What you think worthless I see as priceless.'

...don't ask me why a book penned somewhen during M36 is described as being at least twice older than the Imperium...

Actual disgust and anger

 

 

This is Heresy! Mayhaps a war of holy enlightenment is needed.....

 

Managed to pick up the Index and Chapter Approved today, oh my, that Blade of Admonition

[Knight of the Raven]

Good luck waging war against the institution that supplies, maintains and repairs all your gear. But we do not fight in the hope of success, now do we? No! no, it's much more beautiful when it's useless.

 

Anyway.

 

You know your canoness believes you missed a promising career in the oft-forgotten Ordo Entertainus when you spend half an hour converting a Disney song to fit the Adepta Sororitas.

 

Back when the warp storms dimmed,
The galaxy was down on its luck.
And everywhere Chaos cultists
and Xenos ran amok.

 

Humanity was doomed,
Its manifest destiny denied.
Extinction loomed and
No mortal army could stem the tide.

 

Then came the Emperor!
He unleashed Mankind's might.
He struck,
Kicked those suckers out of sight,
Our luck!
And on his own stopped
The clock to midnight!
And that's the gospel truth!
And now Humanity's future shines bright!

 

...I need to play more games.

[Bjorn Firewalker]

You know your canoness believes you missed a promising career in the oft-forgotten Ordo Entertainus when you spend half an hour converting a Disney song to fit the Adepta Sororitas.

When you sing the following

nonstop as you turn your flame and melta weapons on heretics, Daemons, and xenos...

 

And instead of complaining about how sick and tired they are of that song, your Sisters join in, as do all your allies. (It doesn't matter if they join in because your faith inspires them so, or because they're afraid you'll throw THEM into the funeral pyre.)

[Purifying Tempest]

 

You know your canoness believes you missed a promising career in the oft-forgotten Ordo Entertainus when you spend half an hour converting a Disney song to fit the Adepta Sororitas.

When you sing the following

nonstop as you turn your flame and melta weapons on heretics, Daemons, and xenos...

 

And instead of complaining about how sick and tired they are of that song, your Sisters join in, as do all your allies. (It doesn't matter if they join in because your faith inspires them so, or because they're afraid you'll throw THEM into the funeral pyre.)

 

 

But the screams are the best part!

 

Proves the heretics draw pain from basking in the Emperor's love.

[Machine God]

 

You know your canoness believes you missed a promising career in the oft-forgotten Ordo Entertainus when you spend half an hour converting a Disney song to fit the Adepta Sororitas.

When you sing the following

nonstop as you turn your flame and melta weapons on heretics, Daemons, and xenos...

 

And instead of complaining about how sick and tired they are of that song, your Sisters join in, as do all your allies. (It doesn't matter if they join in because your faith inspires them so, or because they're afraid you'll throw THEM into the funeral pyre.)

 

But the parody song makes your Sister look like a Psyker!

[Bjorn Firewalker]

 

 

 

You know your canoness believes you missed a promising career in the oft-forgotten Ordo Entertainus when you spend half an hour converting a Disney song to fit the Adepta Sororitas.

When you sing the following

nonstop as you turn your flame and melta weapons on heretics, Daemons, and xenos...

 

And instead of complaining about how sick and tired they are of that song, your Sisters join in, as do all your allies. (It doesn't matter if they join in because your faith inspires them so, or because they're afraid you'll throw THEM into the funeral pyre.)

But the parody song makes your Sister look like a Psyker!

You mean that Inquisitor (who happens to be a psyker) looks like a Sister, because she's wearing Sororitas power armor (so enemy snipers won't identify her as a priority target).

[Atrus]

You mean that sister superior that likes to accessorise? :p

[Bjorn Firewalker]

When your idea of "accessorizing" is to convert your boltgun into a combi-melta or combi-flamer. Your idea of "make-up" is the blood from heretics/traitors/witches/xenos you shoot to pieces with your boltgun or cut to pieces with your chainsword, and/or the ashes from enemies of the Imperium you fry with melta/flamer weapons.