[center][b]Sister Agathe, Battle Sister of the Order of the Iron Veil, Convent Prioris[/b][/center]


Agathe, by all rights, should have led a peaceful existence. She was born on Terra to two priests charged with the maintenance of a small and insignificant temple, its sole purpose to attend to the teeming masses of pilgrims that visited mankind's holy homeworld. She was herself raised as a choir girl, taught to sing the God-Emperor's praises as any pious child would, speaking her first word at only four months old, but her peaceful existence was, unfortunately, cut abruptly short.

Days after her first birthday, she remembers her parents, after the morning's services, rushing her into a backroom and pleading with her to stay quiet and hide - they were playing hide-and-seek!

Being the good child she was, Eleannna hid.

The next thing she remembers is the noise of roaring flames, the building collapsing around her, and being rescued by a terrified old pilgrim in ragged robes.

Imperial records of the incident, at least officially, are just as confused as she was. The pilgrims nearby recall seeing the building abruptly erupt in flame, and Imperial records - including an official investigation - reveal nothing, at least publically.

As the child of good, pious folk, it was promptly decided that she'd be shipped off to the Schola Progenium, destined to live out the rest of her life as one of the Sororitas.

Her aptitude for song, as it turned out, was outpaced only for her aptitude for combat, promptly shifting her destiny from the Orders Madriga to the Orders Miliant, quickly picked up by a visiting Canoness of the Order of the Iron Veil, who believed that Agathe's childhood trauma would make her especially resilient against the ravages of the Great Enemy. After all, her piety only seemed to increase after the loss of her parents.

Her first years as a novice, by and large, were spent in training - harsh as the Schola were, the standards of the Iron Veil were even more exacting, require nothing but the most unflinching zeal from their Sisters and the most resilient minds. Many days were spent working herself until collapse over and over, others in meditation while she was assaulted with distractions and noise, all for the purpose of ensuring that nothing, no matter how tempting, could break her iron will, that she could resist the power of the warp with her mind alone.

The next three years of her life were spent preparing for duty as a Sister of Battle with little time for recreation - but her first field assignment, unfortunately, would not go as planned.

What was supposed to be a relatively simple escort assignment for a ministorum priest turned into disaster when her unit arrived at an unassuming station on the Ultramar-side of the Segmentum Ultima. Shortly after boarding the station, the personnel turned on them, coming at them in rabid hordes with every weapon they could possibly carry. Many of the unprotected ministorum attendants were quickly cut down, but the priest survived, the Sisters forming a defensive circle around her as they fought toward the astropathic choir, hoping to reach it in time to send out a distress signal. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of them fell, each successive wave more wretched, more touched by the taint of the Blood God. Mere men became half-mutants, who themselves gave way to monsters that could barely be called men, but reach the Choir they did, Agathe's chainsword drenched in the foul blood of the enemy. The message was sent, and, desperate for shelter, there they held their ground, more sisters falling by the minute.

For what felt like hours, Agathe held her ground along with her sisters, watching them die nobly in the line of duty, even the Palatine in command of their unit.

By the time it was only her, clutching her Palatine's power maul and shield, she thought she would be martyred, and she embraced her fate eagerly, even as the master of the cultists - a towering, red-armored Astartes - emerged, his roaring axes soaked with the blood of those of her Sisters that were left behind.

Letting out a passionate war-cry, she charged headlong at the Berzerker, a prayer on her lips the world seemed to shrink around her as if she were falling into a trance, nothing but the hated enemy visible. She brought up her shield as it clashed with a chainaxe, lifting her maul, fully expecting for her feeble strike to fail.

She felt the bite of a chainblade digging into her knee, cutting through the joint.

Another blow. Another.

The sound of cracking ceramite. A howl. She recalled seeing golden light bleeding out from her maul as it struck, then the sound of the Astartes's body falling to the ground and the sound of lasfire echoing through the station. Had help finally arrived?

Help had, it turned out, arrived in the form of a Rogue Trader and his small fleet - and Agathe completed her mission.

With no direct commanding officer to report to and an ostensibly loyal Rogue Trader she owed a great debt to, Agathe took it upon herself to accompany the trader's fleets, and although she has achieved no high rank in the month and a half since her rescue, she's taken it upon herself to minister to the menials and ratings of Edmund's vessel, additionally offering her skill in close-quarters combat in the event of battle, and, in the absolute worst case, a mind resilient against the ravages of the warp.

Kind and well-spoken, she provides a source of comfort for the crew, whether through simple ministry or hymn and song, and makes efforts to keep herself appraised of her wants and needs. In other ways, though, she is alien and frustrating, wanting for little and asking for even less, partaking in few of the indulgences usually used to bribe and cajole.