The+Fallen+Angel

Braddoc:

He smiled at the young Irene "Back to your duties Novice. The path of the righteous is a hard, but rewarding one..." He slowly ate the bread as Irene got hands and arms into hot water and the clinging of dishes was heard. Poor girl, still just a kid and sucked into this harsh world. At least she's got 3 meals a day, a roff over her head and no one wants to kill her, no to mention she is getting an education out of it. Yet again, knowing how the Sisters and most of the Church likes being harsh and firm when it came to discipline, it was not a mystery she wanted to maybe take a 5 minute break somewhere. He shall try to meet that youngling later on during his stay.

Lyra was taken inside, escorted by two Sisters. The Canoness allowed him to witness the Rite but not to intervene, if only afterward to take Lyra to the infirmary to take care of her. The blasphemeer was bound in chains and her clothes ripped to expose her upper body. The Sisters prayed and chanted, himself muttering a small prayer for Lyra's soul, which did bring a glance from SIster Superior Isabella. The whip was raised into the air. The cleansing is about to begin.

Lynata:

The Mistres's neural whip hit the unprotected skin hard and with a loud cracking noise, sending a shocking pulse of energy through the penitent's body. As the strap is forcefully pulled over Lyra's back it leaves a red mark, indicating damage to the dermal layers. Quickly the lash is pulled back and raised again, about to deliver a second strike without giving Lyra a chance to pause.

The electrical discharge plunges the nave into a somewhat eerie blue light, each flash illuminating the shadowy corners of the three statues who stand majestically at the chapel's back. The mighty Emperor and his Saints, their eternal gaze now seemingly locked onto the penitent. Judging.

As the Sisters Superior direct their subordinates in the prayer-song the chanting grows louder, and even the Canoness and her Palatine have joined in the rite, so holy words might drown out any cries. Relentlessly, the Mistress proceeds to flog Lyra, intent on whipping the impurity off her flesh.

"Cleanse your soul." For the third time now, the neural whip lashes over Lyra's back.

"Expurgate the failings of your mortal flesh." A fourth blow is applied.

"Hardships endured in His name act as a forge for the soul, burning out impurities and raising us to a higher plane of being, for we are his Daughters." The Mistress continues with the rite's incantations, only pausing to beat Lyra again and again.

Braddoc:

Metalus watched, as the neural-whip cracks blue sparks on Lyra's skin. The purification by pain is a time honoured tradition of the the Ecclesiarchy, but it was the first time he saw an electro-whip being used. Generally they used flails, or a standard whip, but the SIsters always had to take it to the next level.

Before the Reign of Blood the Ecclesiarchy had an army, a fleet, they could strike anywhere in the Imperium, bringing the Emperor's wrath upon the traitor, heretics and the enemies of Mankind. Then all changed after the Confederation of Light, the Ecclesiarchy Army was disbanded and only the Sororitas had the right to bear arms in the name of the Emperor. Granted, priests were known to fill the ranks of the Imperial Guard, rounding up the men, giving them motiviation to go on a step further, but it was not as the glorious days so long ago.

Now the Sororitas are recluse, coming out to purge and kill in His name. While not a bad thing as such, they seem to consider themselves better than the rest of the Ecclesiarchy, holier, more pure. While many consider them like angels, Metalus knew they were just Man. They do not bother teaching the people to be pious and servitude. They only live to find faults in their fellow Man and purging them, instead of working on removing the sins and making them another contributing member of the Imperium.

Granted some were too far deep to be saved, he was not this naive, but he heard stories. Killing whole families because of a single renegade psyker, cleansing worlds who did not follow the hard line they follow, Acting as Judge of His Will. Clearly over stepping the line. They were the Militant arm of the Church true, but they were not the Church as a whole. SImply because they separated themselves from the people does not make them more able to judge a man which can be saved. Too much time in a convent, not enough with those they are sowrn to protect. Their faith is unquestioning, but their methods lack vision.

Another crack of the whip, the sixth, woke him up from his musing.

Beir:

For a moment everything was frozen in time and wasn't all at once. Lyra could see the individual faces in the gathering before her, she felt she had all the time to analyze them. The chorus of voices was picking up and she wanted to be carried away on teh soothing music, her jaw clenched and her muscles tensed as a reaction and her vision turned to white in an instant.

The first strike turned the universe upside down. Lyra velt her muscles all spasm involuntarily as she felt the pinch and burn of the wound being created. The pain was intense at a single point, then exploded through her neural pathways, and she found her entire body heaving in pain. Her jaw quicering, she exhaled loudly, keeping her snarl of pain contained.

//Damn, if on-//

The whip was upon her back again. Her vision went white and quickly cleared again, but everything swam in and out of focus. Her arms felt numb and weak, even held tightly by the chains. Her body was screaming in pain. Her mouth opened and a quiet moan of pain escaped her clenched lips, but her dry vocal chords could barely give it any sound.

//Emper-//

A third time. Again she tried to keep it in but her body was suffering an almost full sensory overload. Everything in front of her became a swirl of dark colours mixed with the flashes of white. Lyra tried to groan again and only felt a scratch at her throat and the rasp of air passing over her dry voicebox. Her throat tightened and she swallowed, trying to wet her vocal chords. Her watery eyes built up and tears flowed over her sweaty face.

//Concentr-//

Four. Pain was wracking her body, she could feel herself starting to shake uncontrollably. Her limbs felt tight and loose all at once. She tried to voluntarily flex her muscles to shake them of the shock, but she could not feel if it had any effect or if her muscles were even under her control. She managed to reign herself in, trying to take the pain quietly. It was pride mostly. Skane had to shock the living Hell out of her to get a scream of pain. She almost bit her lip in the process, but it wouldn't have mattered.

"M-m-more." she rasped. If the Mistress could hear it, she couldn't tell. The choir had grown loud at a point that seemed ages ago. Most likely covering what was to be expected as her "lament."

Five. If the Mistress had heard her, she had almost certainly obliged. Lyra felt that this one was delivered with power. Her body wracked with the blow and she felt as if her back was aflame. As the explosion of pain moved through her body she lost her control and screamed out. It was a pitiful raspy cry, the choir of Sisters probably drowned out most of it, but had it been quiet and the congregation normal men and women, they would have found it most disturbing. She regained her breath and sobbed loudly.

//LYRA! The ch-//

The sixth. Her legs felt like they weren't there after this strike and they gave out, she slumped a bit, her arms pulling taught against the chains, she stayed up. At the speed it happened, anyone would have been howling in pain from the stress on the arms, but Lyra's brain was preoccupied with a more powerful force. She briefly inhaled and screamed out this time, maybe the Sisters in the front could hear, but through her blurry eyes she wouldn't have seen if they had any reaction.

//The musi-//

Seven. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her body felt entirely numb. She felt she couldn't move anything and tried with all her might to stand. She was surprised to find herself standing taller, albeit on shaky legs. She felt warm drops dripping down her back. She opened her mouth, and seemed to have gained some of her voice back. She managed to meet the choir and chanted the Solo of Forgiveness, as well and as loud as she could, mispronouncing some of the High Gothic:

"Imperator, qui tollis peccata mun-"

Eight. Her body spasmed again and she felt the point of intensity become a fast moving explosion, she cried even more. But her lips continued to move, her head up, keeping time with the choir.

"-di, miserere nobis. Imperator, qui toll-"

Nine. She broke the song and cried out in an almost feral yell of pain. She was breathing as hard as if she'd just ran twelve kilometers up a steep hill. Sweat stung her eyes and was quickly washed away by the tears. She couldn't see anything but the blue highlights of every strike.

//Find them!//

Her mouth opened and she could barely speak, let alone chant the words of the Solo. The choir had contined and she'd missed a repetition of the first line. Her mine quickly found the point the point the Sisters were at,

"Imperator, qui tollis pecc-"

Ten. She slumped in the chains almost hanging with her feet off the ground. One can only push the body so far. But despite everything in her head telling her to just close her eyes and give up, she yelled out and maanaged to finish the Solo, something rarely done.

"-ata mundi, dona nobis venila!" She called out loudly towards the Sisters, her mouth full open, her throat stinging with pain. She wanted to be heard. The effort was too much and she dropped her head down and felt her arms tug at the chains. If the lashing continued, she would welcome them, but felt her time for staying awake through them was quickly coming to an end.

Eleven...

(Very Loose Translation:

Emperor who takes away the sins of the universe, have mercy on us. emperor who takes away teh sins of the universe, have mercy on us Emperor who takes away the sins of the universe, grant us forgiveness.

Lynata: The clear voice of a hundred Sisters could be heard throughout the Abbey's chapel, largely drowning out the cracking sound of a neural whip and the occasional screams of the penitent. Despite the disturbing act of cleansing, the chanting and singing bestowed a sense of purity, even beauty to the scene. After the Repentia Mistress administered the twelfth blow, Palatine Rhiannon stepped forwards.

Placing two fingers of her gloved hand below Lyra's chin she lifted the penitent's head by a few degrees, the Palatine's stern, ice-blue eyes gazing to lock with the acolyte's eyes. She was obviously studying the former Guardswoman, possibly judging her yet again.