Sisters of Chaos

-Sister of Nurgle-Chapter 2

Abigail's hands stopped their loving caress and lifted off Apphia.

“But that can wait Apphia, we have some work to do first. Let me help you”

Abigail lifted the respirator up to Apphia's face, and secured the cool metal flush against her skin. The tin taste of the filtered air was unpleasant, but she appreciated the absence of the foul marsh stench. Together they left, with her other sisters, to attend the medical wing.

The facilities here were hastily set up, the beds were overcrowded and every day more made their way here; hoping for some ease on their suffering or possibly a cure to the sickness that had brought the planet to its knees.

Tender and deft hands administered care and when necessary, the Emperor's mercy. This illness was a new one; the swelling black abscesses spread quickly along the body making it hard to prevent an infection from becoming worse. Draining them and applying blessed ointment seemed to halt the progress, but leaving open cavities which never seemed to empty of that foul smelling pus. Injections on the recently infected had an effect, but progress was slow. Every day the disease strengthened and sapped the will of the inflicted.

Their countless prayers and rites the sisters performed were the only thing keeping the diseased from giving up hope before the right treatment could be found. Apphia did her best, but if no treatment was found she could only assume the worst. Dark powers forever sought to corrupt the souls of the faithful. Their followers hid in the shadows, fearing His divine light as they cursed his Name. The thought of ruinous powers repulsed her; she could not dare even to whisper any of the names, lest they descend upon its utterance. Still the pain in her side was growing, but she had to be strong and not let pain distract from her duty. It was near midday when the voice of the militant superior came over the vox.

“Sisters, prepare yourselves, we are deploying in the swamps in ten minutes. Full apothecarian protocol. We may encounter resistance, so gird yourself in the combat armor and load your bolters. Ave Imperator.”

Apphia's superior motioned her over along with five of her sisters. They nodded silently and excused themselves from the room. All Hospitallers who expected any amount of combat wore fitted carapace armor; despite its bulky nature it provided excellent protection, only exceeded by the power armor of the militants themselves.

She exited the sleeping chambers and made her way down the stairs on her way to the courtyard. As she went, Apphia locked the final clasps making sure the armor was properly fitted and secure. The mesh cowl only offered light protection, but allowed her unrestricted vision. She strode outside, past the lines of the frail sick, coughing and pallid. She wished she could heal them, but nothing seemed to be working.

The militants stood at the ready, dressed in full battle gear and heavily armed. Nearby she saw the Rhino that they had brought with them. They made their way into the hulking armored beast, which was only surpassed in size by the truly monstrous transports that were rarely seen and then only in the most desperate of conflicts. The cramped interior was decorated in reliefs highlighting struggles of the order. With a shuddering lurch it began to move, the treads digging into the earth. Apphia looked at the militants, fully clad in the ancient suits of power armor, with the expressionless helmets. The bolt pistol weighed heavily in her hands; she preferred not to use firearms like this when possible, yet its necessity reminding her of all the corruption and filth that still remained. But like all sisters, she had been trained in the arts of combat and marksmanship. The gun was powerful and simple in its design yet still deadly effective.

The muted roar of the engine dragged on through the journey. A quick glance at the chrono confirmed several hours had already passed.

A shudder worked its way through the vehicle and with a series of sickeningly wet thuds continuing until the treads were jammed, the Rhino ground to a halt, mired in the swamp. Bursting into action, the militants charged out the ramp with Apphia's sisters in tow. A thundering hail of bolter fire mowed down the slavering cultists, directly outside, each exploding shell ripping through the diseased flesh and bursts of blessed promethium blazing and cleansing the foul warp taint.

Apphia trained her bolt pistol on the nearing cultists, letting her combat training take over. Their weapons, faith and training were no match for those who scorned His name. Strewn across the ground were sick offerings for their dark lord. Thoroughly infested and bloated corpses, maggots writhing from open wounds. The taint of chaos was no match for the cleansing wrath of the Sororitas as they advanced on the foul shrine, which had been hastily erected in the mire.

Foul words grated across her ear as the cultists tried to gain the favor and powers of their vile god. Though the tide of the battle was clear, something seemed off to Apphia. Her stomach turned as the air seemed to ripple before her. Sickening images danced in and out of reality before them. These were true forces of chaos, warped beyond belief and barely being held together by the fabric of the realm; Trying to rip though the weakened veil that contained the abyss, here it was only a shadow's width away, she could feel the abyss trying to press against her, struggling to find a hold in this domain.

A final screeching howl accompanied the last shred of resistance as reality was ripped apart. A deep mirthful laugh roared across the decaying plants. Her eyes tried to focus on the grisly sight that lay before her. Ripped and pallid skin was draped on the immense heap of rotting flesh, organs spilling out and spewing foul bile upon the ground. Scourges and weeping sores graced its skin, it held a massive corroded blade, caked with rust and dripping a foul pus. This horror could only be one thing, she dared not say its name or even think it, lest further curses descend upon them. Lesser daemons surrounded it, all manner of manifestation of the chaos god's nature. From the sickly and starving to the animated outgrowths of blighted flesh, they surrounded the sisters. Jeering at them, these pure and untouched symbols of the Emperor.

The mocking laughter did not cease as it turned its head toward them; the vile grin scorned them, taunting, joined by the spectacle of jeering daemons. Apphia felt a glimmer of fear for the first time, surrounded by these foul warp monstrosities, she was doubtful of whether they could take down this new threat. The unearthly creatures kept advancing towards them. Bursts of bolter fire rained on the advancing throng, shells harmlessly exploding against them, jets of promethium charred their twisted forms, but their numbers were too great. It was not long until the foul creatures had broken through.

Apphia buried her combat knife in the putrefied face of a nearby daemon. Her sisters fought with similar passion, they could feel the Emperor giving them strength. The Greater Daemon's mirth faded as the corpses of the fallen daemons piled up. With a bellow he swung his sword, cleaving straight through several of the sisters. To see her fallen brethren cut down and mutilated by the taint of chaos, strengthened Apphia’s resolve and with a furious cry, she charged the greater daemon. She had to fight her pain in this vital moment, not let mortal fears and woes distract her. Apphia would stop the spread of filth and chaos if it was the last thing she would do.