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10/05/08(Sun)20:21 No.2744038I couldn't resist.
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The calamity of the distant battle was subsiding. The piratical eldar, battered and singed by the fury of the adepta sororitas were in full retreat. Only a few stray bolter shells and shreds of paper caught on the wind disturbed the calm of the square, flanked by giant winged statues. Then, from the distance came a sound of beating wings, and like a living personification of the statuary, St Anais, the living saint touched down on the flagstones of the square.
She was very tall, at least seven feet (although the armor contributed to that), and built like a classic symbol of beauty. A tall, buxom figure of beauty, with white hair whipping the wind behind her. Her ornate armor was stained with the blood of xenos, murderers and sinners all, yet her face was untouched by any injury. She looked up at the statues and smiled, falling down on one knee.
”I thank you, oh Emperor, father of humanity. Thank you for blessing us today, and aiding us in cleansing the filth from this world, destined for humanity.” Continuing with some traditional prayers in high Gothic, the saint stood back up and stretched.
Another battle won, she thought to herself as she cleaned some of the worst gore from her massive white-feathered wings. And yet I feel strangely unfulfilled. The fighting had been too brief, and Anais had barely had time to relieve all her tension, built up over weeks. She grumbled unhappily and tried to work out an imagined kink in her shoulder. She was chaste, of course. Almost all Sororitas were, and Anais was a most faithful adherent of their tenents. |
