Adiposus Sororitas Part One: Where's That Damned ... - deviantART

Adiposus Sororitas
Part One: Where’s That Damned Techpriest?
Bolters barked, chainswords whirred, and flamers lit the night sky with purifying flames
as the Adeptus Sororitas fought off seemingly endless waves of heretics. Though vastly
outnumbered, their armor shrugged off even the mightiest of the cultists low grade weaponry and
their own guns ensured that their foe would pay for their blasphemy with their deaths.
It was but a single Commandery, numbering roughly two hundred sisters, attached to an
Inquistor who had come to this spinning ball of ice to investigate rumors about a new, insidious
Chaos cult. Instead of finding a few tendrils of corruption, quick to yield or flee, they had walked
into a full blown insurrection. Yet they were unable to retreat as this seemingly worthless frozen
rock was a key producer of Promethium, a substance which fueled the mighty Imperium’s
vehicles, for several sectors, and its loss would be a grave blow to the Imperium.
And so the Sisters stood in a fortified refinery, fending off the endless cultists. Victory
was surely theirs as these cultists’ suicide charges did not but end their worthless lives. The only
problem was that damned chanting that rang day in and day out as the debased cult wormed their
way towards their base of operations. It sang in a hundred ancient languages, dating back to the
Dark Age and beyond:
“Debu… fett… obesus… fat… gorda… gros…”
It disconcerted Canoness Janus. She swore that they would silence them before the
week’s end. But, unbeknownst to her, the mantra was far more than a tool of psychological
warfare…

Unbeknownst to the Sisters, this attack was nothing but a diversion. The cultists they
battled were nothing but the lowest of the low and were being sent to die en masse to allow a
traitor to slip away.
Tech-priest Gizes walked uneasily through the Chaos camp, led by a single Slaneeshi
Marine. The leers and stares he received from the various pleasure seeking heretics set him on
edge. He gripped his bolter tightly and spread his mechadendrites so as to deflect an attack from
any quarter as they entered a gaily colored tent.
There, poring over dataslates and muttering to himself, flanked by two more Chaos
Marines, sat a Chaos Sorceror. Gizes sharply inhaled, tasting the incense wafting in the air.
“Emperor on Terra…” he muttered.
Space Marines were bad enough, but a Sorceror? Things just kept getting worse and
worse. And here he was, alone, dealing with heretics.
The Chaos Sorcerer looked up and, though it was impossible to tell through the helmet,
smiled.
“Ah, my little Enginseer. Right on schedule.” He said in a rich, plumy voice so unlike the
harsh growls of the Marines or the shrieking of cultists. “So GOOD to see you. You have the
codes I require, yes?”
“Y-yes. You have the artifact I need?” Gizes replied, nasally voice trembling with
artificially suppressed fear.
“Of course! Of course. Right here, my boy.” Said the Sorceror, tossing what appeared to
be a messy jumble of wires wrapped around a black box.
Barely managing to snag the ancient tech with his mechanical claws, the Tech-priest
passed a single dataslate to the foul magus.

“Most excellent.” Said the Sorceror, activating the dataslate in his palms before
addressing the retreating Tech-priest. “Are you sure you wish to leave? We always have room in
our ranks for one of your… talents.”
Gizes halted his retreat, quivering with rage.
“Do not try to tempt me” he hissed, “for our arrangement is only out of the need of the
Omnissiah. I would gladly see you wiped off the face of the planet, damned to whatever foul god
you’ve sold your soul to. I would NEVER betray the Emperor.”
“Eh, it never hurts to ask. Now, Baraxmus,“ replied the heretic with a shrug, before
turning to the Marine at his side. “if you would be so kind as to-“
“Before you finish that order,” interrupted the tech-priest, speaking quickly, “I’d just like
to inform you that the codes are set to reset upon my death. So, if you were thinking about
betraying me, like you did the Emperor, holy is his name, I would advise against it.”
“-escort our esteemed guest out of our camp.” Finished the sorcerer.
“Can we trust him, Lord Meridon?” Baraxmus asked, hours later as the camp prepared to
assault the Sisters’ base.
“I believe so.” Replied Meridon after several minutes of rumination. “You see, Techpriests
will do practically anything, ANYTHING, to get their hands on Dark Age technology.
They’ll pay any price, sacrifice anyone, to get their hands on the stuff. They’ve invited Tyranid
invasions, left planets to the Orks, and even awakened Necrons in their endless quest for their
treasures. He would gladly doom this planet if it ensured that he could deliver his tech to his
lords.”
Baraxmus pondered this a moment and shook his head.

“And they call US mad?”
It stopped. Finally. Exhausted, nearly dead on their feet, the Sisters watched as their foe
finally realized the futility of the attack and retreated. With that, Janus heaved a sigh of relief,
and gave the order to return to their small field command in the center of the walled refinery
town, leaving only a skeleton crew to raise the alarm in the event of the heretics’ return.
Yet, as she slowly trudged back to her command, Janus realized that the chanting had not
stopped. In fact, it had intensified, the warp-infused chant even louder, more insidious. She knew
it meant something, but was too tired to puzzle it out. At the moment she only wanted three
things: a warm bath, food, and sleep.
Unfortunately, she’d only be able to procure one of the three before having to enter in
conference with her trusted advisors. Leaving the makeshift cafeteria, she noted that an
unusually large number of Sororitas were present.
It’s nothing. They’re just ravenous from a hard day’s battle. She thought to herself as she
grabbed some rations and returned to her command center.
Once there, she slumped in her chair slowly eating while listening to the reports of her
second in command and the local Administratum agent attached to the plant, noting the
continued absence of the Inquistor and conspicuous lack of Tech-priest.
Hmm… that’s odd. The coghead’s usually here and I would expect him to be whining
about the damages to his precious machines after a battle such as this. Eh, I guess it makes
sense. He’s probably out fixing the turrets or reinforcing the walls or whatever else it is those
techies do.

Having rationalized his absence, she let the bureaucrat’s droning voice wash over her,
and slipped into half awake complacency.
Hours passed, and the cafeteria remained as full as ever. More so, in fact, as the guard
posted on the outer walls, no longer able to take the pangs of hunger ravaging their bellies, had
returned to sate themselves. Usually disciplined, the Sisters one and all gorged themselves to
comfortable immobility on the food available to them. Many dozed contentedly amongst the
wreckage of several meals worth of field rations. Janus herself had sent servitors out twice to
fetch more food for her grumbling stomach.
It was into this shrine of gluttony and sloth that Lord Meridon entered, flanked by six
Slaneeshi Marines. So bloated were the female warriors, rubbing tummies stretched to maximum
fullness, that they were not even aware of his presence.
“Just as planned.” He muttered, before raising his voice so that he could be heard by one
and all. “Ah, ladies! So good to see you all looking so… healthy. Please, sit, sit, no need to get
up on my account.” This was directed at the smattering of Sisters still capable of standing,
attempting to draw their weapons around unwieldy torsos.
Even so, two of the Sisters managed to draw and fire their bolt pistols, one shot going
wide, the other merely rebounding off of the formidable armor of the debased Marine.
“I said, SIT DOWN.” Snarled Meridon as chains materialized from the Warp, tying down
those Sisters still mobile enough to offer resistance. “It would be SUCH a shame to have to kill
you. Then you’d have to miss out on all the fun…”