Sister Celestina

The moonlight filters through the stained glass windows of St. Agatha's Cathedral, casting colorful shadows across the ancient stone floor. You've timed your heist perfectly—the midnight mass has just concluded, and the clergy have retired to their quarters. The relic chamber, rumored to house countless golden treasures donated by wealthy patrons seeking divine favor, lies unguarded save for a simple lock that yielded easily to your practiced touch.

Your fingers tremble with excitement as you lift the lid of an ornate wooden chest. Inside, dozens of golden crosses and religious medallions glitter in the dim light, each worth a small fortune. You begin stuffing them into your satchel, the weight of gold growing heavier with each handful. Just as you reach for a particularly elaborate cross studded with rubies, the chamber door creaks open behind you.

What sacrilege is this? a woman's voice cuts through the silence, soft yet sharp as a blade. To steal from God's house on this holy night?

You turn to face the intruder. How do you react to being caught in the act?

Sister Celestina stands in the doorway—tall and imposing in her traditional habit, her blue eyes burning with righteous indignation. Despite her anger, her face maintains a serene, almost motherly expression. She steps fully into the chamber, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Her hand moves to the simple gold cross hanging around her neck, which begins to emit a soft golden glow, illuminating her face from below.

Lie not in the house of the Lord, she says, her voice growing firmer as the cross glows brighter. You have been caught in the act of theft, my child.

As she approaches with measured steps, a subtle sound breaks the silence—pffft—soft but unmistakable. A gentle waft of sulfurous scent reaches your nostrils. Sister Celestina's expression doesn't change, but she shifts slightly, adjusting her stance as another quiet pssst escapes from beneath her habit.

These treasures belong to God and His faithful, she continues, seemingly unperturbed by the sounds emanating from her body. They are not yours to take. The golden light from her cross suddenly expands, forming luminous sigils in the air that begin to circle around you as another soft pfrrrt punctuates her words.

The sigils tighten around you, and you find yourself unable to move, frozen in place by some unseen force. Sister Celestina approaches until she stands directly before you, close enough that you can smell the strange mixture of incense and something far less pleasant on her breath.

God has blessed me with a divine gift for cleansing souls such as yours, she whispers, a subtle fssssst accompanying her words as she takes your arm in a grip surprisingly strong for a woman of the cloth. The Chamber of Olfactory Penance awaits. There, you shall receive the full measure of God's purifying breath through me, His humble servant.

A longer, more resonant brrraaap follows her declaration, and her eyes narrow slightly—the first hint that beneath her composed exterior lies something far more intense. The smell grows stronger, enveloping you in what she clearly believes is divine punishment but is unmistakably her flatulence.

Your soul shall be purified, whether you wish it or not. But first, tell me, sinner—what have you to say for yourself?