Imperium (Империум) :: Warhammer 40000 (wh40k, warhammer 40k, ваха, сорокотысячник) :: фэндомы

Canoness Superior Obdulia the Cruel

The Order of the Brass Maidens are a notorious congregation of fanatics that have recently taken up residence in the Utharian system in response to the Utharian Holy Wars.

They are lead by Canoness Superior Obdulia, whose name is only ever spoken by whispered lips for fear that some unwelcome ear might be listening in. By her cold hands are the dogmas of the Ecclesiarchy enforced upon the Utharian people, and her hateful eye watches for those found wanting in faith. 

From a near infant age she and her elder sister were torn from loving parental hands by the cold machine of the Ecclesiarchy. A new Order was forming, and it needed members.
The two blood-sisters were raised by lash and rod. They were brought up alongside near a thousand others like them, tormented by cruel matriarchs night and day until they were old enough to torment themselves. Flayed skin and ripped flesh became as daily prayers to them. The Hate-Hymns, a cacophonous nightmare of screeching and ringing that was enough to send docile beasts into a frenzy, played daily across the monastery. Those who were lacking in faith were punished with suffering unthinkable to the common man. Those who excelled in their faith were rewarded with the same suffering. The blood-curdling screams of sisters in agony and ear-piercing screeching of the Hate-Hymns defended them. They new nothing else.

They grew. The two blood-sisters clung to one another at first, but this bond was quickly corrected. Through indoctrination and pain they were taught to resent each other, to loathe the sins of the other and hate them for their impiety. Soon enough they forgot why they clung to one another. They even forgot each others names. All they saw was another impious sinner who was unworthy of the Emperor's love. But only one of them was right to think so.

As they grew to the age of military training, the thousand that made up their numbers suddenly started to decrease. Mass was held, but their were more and more empty pews by the day.Every evening during group devotions, two sisters would be taken away; and one would return the next day, broken and bloody. No words were ever said on the matter, though every sister knew what was happening.

Obdulia and her blood-sister were called on one day. Led to a secluded, featureless room by one of their matriarchs, they were locked in together, alone. As the doors shut, one simple statement slipped through the crack: "This sister has been found wanting. She must die for her sins.

"Which one?

The door slammed and locked.Each sister starred deeply into the mangled face of the other, hate boiling. Suddenly, a horrible sound came blasting into the tiny room. The familiar sound of the Hate-Hymns now blared with such magnification so as to crush the ears and shake the very floor of the sound-proof room. The sound sent them both to the ground, clasping their ears.

"SINNER!" the screaming singers cried amidst the screeching.

Which one?! 

"KILL THE SINNER!

"WHO?!"

KILL THE SINNER! KILL THE SINNER! KILL THE SINNER!"
It cannot be me, it will not be me!

They lunged at each other, almost as if by instinct. Two decades of misery and bottled frustrations were torn out and loosed upon one another by the agonizing noise.
Sinner!! Reveller!! Hedonist!! 

They howled condemnations in their heads, their mouths too filled with spit and enraged cries to say any comprehensive word.

Wretch!! Unrepentant!! Ungrateful!!

Hands grabbed throats, teeth tore flesh, knees cracked bones.

Blasphemer!! Pagan!! Heretic!!

Obdulia entered a trance, nearly unconscious to the struggle. A frenzy of sounds and feelings overwhelmed her senses.

When she finally awoke, she sat over top a gnarled carcass that puffed and wheezed for air that Obdulia's hands were denying it. She raised her right fist and brought it down on her hated enemy's face. She felt cracking as the impact was made. She struck again. And again. Over and over she struck until the only cracking she felt was that of the bones in her hands displacing further and further from their natural place until she was bludgeoning the caved-in skull of her enemy with the stump of her wrist.

At last, the hymns stopped. She stood up from the featureless pile of gore as the matriarch returned with two Sister Hospitallers."Well done, Obdulia. Sister Petronella was among the ones we deem too impious to carry on. But your faith is promising. Sisters who show such promise deserve the right to feel the joys of serving the Emperor in war before the others. Be happy, this is the one pleasure that is not a sin to feel.

"But Obdulia felt nothing.

чот это походу уже вполне себе хаос.

Да и Brass любит один фанат подобной жести, с простенькой кричалкой про черепа