Spies, Brawlers, Gunslingers, and Swordsworn.
The Sisters of the Heavenly Fire are ladies of dubious origins, gathered under the command of Mother Superior Ione. They are the lost ones. Former slaves, cast off concubines, pit fighters, orphans, cur...
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The storm lashed their shuttered windows, causing the aged wood to creak and crack to the bellowing wind. Esther hid in their mother's skirts, her little hands shaking so hard she couldn't thread the needle to practice her embroidery. Their brother, James gnawed on his bottom lip as he paced before the fire, his pent up energy spurring him from his seat.
Ramona was the only one by the window. She stood, peering through the space in the shutters, through the torrent of water that poured down onto their village. It came on suddenly, staining the butter warm sky a sickly putrid black, shot with green lightning. The storm was an unnatural one, coming too sudden, lasting much too long. She couldn't dismiss the feeling it masked the arrival of something sinister. Her siblings were restless but didn't seem overly concerned by what the weather masked, but the adults knew better. Her mother's knuckles were white as they braided twine in her lap.
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Her father was out there somewhere, keeping watch with the other men on the edge of the village. There were too many rumors circulating of the Cult and their current fixation. Ramona glanced over her shoulder, watching her pacing brother.
If half the rumors were to be believed, the village had every reason to worry about the Cult appearing on their doorstep. Every tiny backwater hovel knew they sought the Divine Blade, and enough portents and omens pointed to Ramona's village. The trouble was, all those prophetic whispers were rather vague on exactly where the Divine Blade rested. It could be buried beneath the floorboards at her feet and Ramona would be none the wiser. While the villagers knew the Divine Blade resided in their mists, it was a benign entity, a force for good, meant to protect.
There was little urgency to pin down an instrument of the Divine amid the day to day tasks of farming and crafting. It's presence was safe guarded in the midst of humble folk of the Earth. Still, Ramona saw the wisdom in locating such an object before the Cult came breathing down their necks. Farmers were not warriors, they could not adequately guard such an object, only hide it.
A creak in the rafters made her mother and siblings jump. Esther gave a soft sob, pressing her face against their mother's knee. James crouched beside her, petting her hair.
"It's alright, just a bit of wind," he said. His heart was full of kindness, her brother. Their father often remarked it was a pity Ramona wasn't born a boy since all her kindness seemed to reside in James. That was fine with her. She didn't need to be kind when she could be vigilant. The rafters creaked again. She looked up, focusing on the the space between the beams.
