Awaking drenched in cold sweat in typical fashion the Sister purified her mind and body from the cycle before, she had always had "the nightmare", but it was always worse in the warp. In her dim spartan-like quarters Sister Karress sang the Hymnal of Intolerance as she preformed the rites of maintenance to her personal equipment, with a melodic hum she cleans and oils her blessed weapons, the small room smelled of sweet spice and bitter ash.  Taking great care to make sure each is in order, one by one she caresses them as she prays, finishing she presses her warm lips against the cold, etched, scorched barrel of her inferno pistol in a silent final ritual before turning to ready her armor for morning prayers.<br/><br/>As she finishes encasing herself in her form fitting armor she stops briefly and touches the deep scars of her face, the Sister recites a final, quiet blessing before opening the door. Leaving she walks down the cramped, confined halls of the ship, her comm comes to life, and with the words of Palatine Corley received she made haste to the chapel with zeal.