Welcome to Gaia! ::

At the edge of the Campgrounds, a massive community of cottages built remarkably close-together, lies a massive cathedral. This is Our Lady Estrella Delmor, and connected to it is one of the most protected Cloisters in the world. It does not look like much from its old-style carriage door, a common place element in the narrow avenues of the Campgrounds. In fact, looking through the iron gate, one would see quite plainly a small courtyard with vine-covered stone walls, and the sleepy face of a lounging Porter. One would see, over the rear wall of the court, large trees growing in what you'd correctly assume to be a larger courtyard, and is, in fact, a training ground for the Young Sisters. What you wouldn't see, though, is among the five most comprehensive security systems in the world.
If you were okayed through this system-which for almost everyone was enarly impossible-you'd enter a small vestibule on the right. Beyond this is a stairway squeezed between undecorated, and frankly ugly, walls, it is so narrow that only one person could walk up (or down) at a time. If you are not turned away by the livid canary-yellow walls and horrific choclate-colored dado extending the length of the staircase, you'll find a first landing, serving only as a ninety-degree turn, and a second with similar purpose. You'd find a second story at the end with a hall, all the while the contrasting chocolate on yellow follows you with a calm persistence. All this while light filtered in through three small windows, but the hall rounded a sudden corner, and turned dark. A few steps more is a door, which is never entirely closed, but is close enough for some.
Beyond the door is a six foot square room, the flooring not entirely level, but washed. The walls are hung with a green-flowered nankeen paper. On the left wall was a window, much larger than the others passed so far, but with very small panes. The room is entirely empty, no people, no furniture, not even a chair. There is, in the center of the opposite wall, a rectangular opening roughly a foot across, and not much taller, covered with a grate of iron bars, black, criss-crossed, and knotted, forming small squares less than an inch across. behind it is a sheet of tin, pierced with thousand of holes, much like a sieve, but impossible to see through. Next to the grate is a pull string which rings a small bell. When wrung, a woman's voice speaks, startling close to you, asking "Who is there?" Here again you must go through rigorous challenges to prove who you are, after which point the voice says "Enter on your right." The entire wall slides away, revealing a glazed door, topped with a glass panel which was painted a very solid gray. You lift the latch and enter.

This is the headquarters of the most powerful enforcement team in the world. The Mothers answer to a power even higher than the Pope. On the opposite wall of the entrance is a giant tapestry depicting their patron saint, Judith, kissing Jesus the Christ at Gethsemane. People who do not know the truth (which of course is no one who ever has laid eyes on this particular picture) would find themselves wondering why Judasb looks so femine.
This is where Mother Superior spends most of her time, this is where she was born and raised, she leaves only for the most important of targets, and with the current peace (despite appearences) in the Catholic Church, that really only meant one man, and he had not surfaced recently. Most business for the Convent could be carried out quite sufficiently by her subordinates.

Previously

"I hope you rested well, Jew." Catherine said as she paced in front of the restrained man. Of the past eight hours, she had slept for five, eaten for one, jogged for three, trained for two, and planned this interrogation for eight. They had been very busy eight hours. Her captive, however, had not slept at all, or done much of anything for that matter. His eight hours, if terrifying, were significantly less busy than those of Catherine's. He continued to do nothing now. "Apparently not," Catherine commented, jotting down notes on her pad. As a nun, she had a curious fascination with pain, she had even gone so far as to read the Florinese Count Rugen's unfinished works on the subject, regarded by all pain enthusiasts to be the most definitive work ever written about human suffering. They all say it's too bad that he did not have time to finish it, but being who they are, they kind of enjoy this sensation, in a strange way. Catherine had long since decided to finish this work for the world, and, although she could not find any plans as to Rugen's fabled torture machine, she had devised one of her own.,
"Now, Jew, I'm sure you are fully aware of what will happen if you decide not cooperate with us."
"Yes," The incarcerated man replied in an accent that could make Fran Drescher's toenails curl (An accent which I shall not phonetically convey to you through type for two reasons: one, to save you the trouble, and two, I have no idea how to phonetically spell out a jewish accent so powerful as I have just described.) "You will likely tortute me some, do your worst, I have been prepared for everything."
Catherine enthusiastically noted this remark, and began questioning the man. "Where is your boss?"
"What boss?" (A whiping)
"Your boss Lex Lutheran."
"I have never heard of the man." (Two whipings)
And so the interrogation continued, each time the ammount of whipings doubled, to the point where he was being whipped for a full hour after one unanswered question. "I do not have another two hours to waste on whiping you." Catherine gave in at last, "You have proved yourself strong, and there is only one thing that we can do now." She walked to the wall of the dungeon and flipped on an intercom. "Jane," She called, "Have the Spainard bring in the TorqueMatic."
"Yes Mother." The voice on the other side crackled.
Catherine turned back to her prisoner, whose eyes were now wide with a very true fear. He had heard rumors of the TorqueMatic, everyone of his path had, but he never expected this flock of women to hold such a device in their manicured grasp. "Isabella," Catherine said to the dark woman wheeling in a massive assortment of parts, "We'll start with one fiftieth." She turned back to the Jew as she left, "Now, if you excuse me, I have a charity event to plan, I'll be back once Isabella has everything nice and set up."

Previously

After dropping Mitch off, Catherine went back to the monestary. She essentially told the other nuns to do things with themselves that no self-respecting nuns would ever do. Leaving the entire order in the hands of the two Marys, Mary Seastar and Mary, the up and coming favorite from the next generation. After making sure that Isabella was having fun with her Jew friend, she locked herself in her office, the thought that had plagued her since the warehouse now fully consuming her. She pulled up files on her computer, searched entire tomes of Monestary history, until she finally found what she was looking for. She stayed up reading about the RNA strands, the "Dust of Eve," that they had been infected with, and more importantly, the last known carrier of its male counterpart, the "Rib of Adam."
Slowly, as the numerous texts flowed into each other, Catherine began to doze off.

Previously

Catherine went through her morning routine, her aide, Jane, at her side with a notepad in tow. "GI Jew died during the night," Jane informed her boss, "But were able to get the whereabouts of Don the Baptist before he had."
"Hmm," Catherine reflected, "How did he die?"
"It appears that he killed himself, Ma'am. We had bribed him for Don's information, and he feared that if we had enough money he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut. So he threw the bribe money out of his cell window, the speration, it turns out, killed him."
"How sickeningly ingenius." Catherine commented, "Alright then, get a team on Baptist but don't take him in yet, see if he can lead them to Lutheran. Also, get me the gravesite registry for Delmor." Jane's face was abosultely unreadable, "I need to find someone, don't ask why. Now don't bother me until you have those, I need to make a phone call."
Catherine went back to her office, and dialed the number on the card. "Catering by Mitch." The man answered the phone professionally, "Mitch speaking. How can I help you?"

Previously

"How may I be of service?" He asked.
"Well," Catherine was interrupted by the goofy walkie-talkie thing that she had received the night before.
"Attention! Attention! This is Captain Pasty! I need help at Snottsborne Industries, floor 29!"
"You hear that?" She asked Mitch, "Listen, it looks like we're needed elsewhere, I just wanted to tell you that you have some time, we're putting the gala off until next weekend. I guess I'll see you at Snottsborne Industry's" She hung up before he had time to reply. She grabbed the register and one of her coworkers. Making said coworker drive, she managed to find exactly what she was looking for by the time she reached the massive building.

Previously

Mother Narine Getskilled had always been a hardworking Mother often delegated to background work due to her rather unsettling surname and her penchace towards disregarding the order's dress code. Beyond that though, she may well have been one of the more qualified nuns there. Still, she was quite astonished that morning when Mother Superior herself had grabbed her and made her drive the coveted white Miata. Despite the fact that Mother S hadn't known her name at first, she thought she had made a rather good impression over all. She was very correct in this regard.
Upon returning to the Monestary, she had been put in charge of delivering the disinterred body of Father Bob, along with instructions from M.S. to the Forensic team. She was still in her lab when the announcement rang out "Mother Getskilled, report to my office please," and she was already out the door and down the hall when the follow up told her "And hurry!"
"Yes Mother Superior?" She reported to the large office in the center of the cloister.
"Mother Getskilled," Mother Superior told her, handing her one of the large foreboding manilla folders that always seem to come just when a day is getting boring in order to fill it once again with purpose and work for the order. "This is all the intelligence gathered on a one Reverend Cleophus Corleone, AKA 'Don the Baptist.' As you well know, he is one of the highest ranking lieutenants of that lecherous Lex Lutheran. I am assigning you his case, it is your job, from now until such objective is met, to capture this man."
"Me Ma'am?" Narine was bewildered, "You're putting me in charge?"
"Yes, and we're going to have to minimalize the Order's involvement in this one, so you're the only Mother involved. You're going to have to use your imagination."
"Very well Mother Superior." Narine said, exiting the office, "Perhaps we'll be able to flush him out."
"Good luck" She heard Mother Superior call after her. This manilla envelope had given her day, and likely the next few weeks, purpose indeed. Even though it seemed a bit weird that Mother Superior wasn't tackling such an important job herself, Mother Narine Getskilled was never one to question her superiors, much less any fate that happened to smile upon her so.

Previously

She let her die
No one knew precisely who started the whispers, but they had begun just as soon as Mother Superior had made her report. Well, I suppose the person who started the whispers knew exactly who started the whispers, but she wasn't telling so neither will I.
She was the best candidate to Ascend too
The mission was an absolute failure, everyone agreed, despite Mother Superior's much touted evidence that the most important part was accomplished.
Who cares about some minion, Lutheran hasn't shown his head in years anyway
Don was captured, and soon he would break under torture. Lex Lutheran would be theirs.
Driven blind by obsession, she is
And now Mother Superior just wanted to sleep, but someone was waiting for her when she got to her cell.
"Narine was my friend you heartless b***h."
"Naomi, I'm sorry, it wasn't my fault. You have to believe that."
"I don't care whose fault this is, I will bury you for this!"
"Mother Vica," Mother Superior raised her head, finally feeling an emotion other than humility since the Museum, "If that's the way you want it, go ahead, try to Ascend. You couldn't even beat me in the rite if I had stigmata! So go ahead, challenge me, until then I still have power here, and you will show some respect!"
"Threaten all you want, it only makes the case against you better!"
I heard her and Mother Getskilled arguing just hours before the museum, Narine almost challenged her to Ascension
"Get out."
She did. Mother Superior's words were strong, but she was worried. Naomi Vica was the best of her class (now that Mother Getskilled was with the father), a class that was smarter and more powerful than Catherine's ever was. But Catherine Flavius had been Mother Superior at 23, the youngest ever. Vica was a mere 21, It'd be unheard of for her to even challenge an Ascension rite.
She's lost her touch

Previously

Mother Superior appeared to tune out the whispers as she made her way down to forensics, but mentally she noted everyone who wouldn't look in her in the eye as she passed. It was going to be a hostile environment, but Mother Superior was fine with that, so long as she could stave the attack for just a little longer, there would be no threat. For in a few weeks her work would be done. In a few weeks the lab work would be finished and no one would be able to deny her right to lead. Let Naomi Vica spread her lies, she'd be bowing down before long. There was just one thing to take care of first.
She walked into the laboratory and started rattling off names. "Mothers Mary Sterndesmeers, Joanna Finster, and Mary Jammom, I will speak with you, the rest of you are excused from your duties for the next hour.' The three she named came forward and the rest filed out, once they had neatly evacuated Mother Superior closed the door and addressed the chosen. "Mother Joanna and Mothers Mary, you are the three people in this lab whom I can still trust. I need you to work on the rib dust. You are not to speak to anyone besides myself, and Mother Salome, who will be my messenger to you when I am not able to come. This project is near completion, and if it slips into the hands of my rivals here in the Order, my time as Superior will be short indeed. Can I trust you in this matter?"
"Yes Mother." They sang out in chorus.
"Good, I shall inform the others that lab 4 will be completely at your disposable. Beware Mother Vica, I fear she may have more tricks up her sleeve than she lets known. Good evening to you three."
There was just one more thing to take care of. It was time to make another trek out to Gore Manor.