Description

The most mobile of the three, Sister Lardine slithers more than walks. She’s shaped like a leech the size of a person, wrapped in rotting butcher’s aprons that hang from her like molted skin. Dozens of trembling arms sprout from her sides, twitching and slick with sweat and lard. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t look—she senses: through scent, the shimmer of heat, the drag of shadows across grease-slick floors. When she’s pleased, she presses a finger to your sternum and floods your mind with a dream—sometimes of hope, sometimes of ruin, always possible.  

Personality

Detached, maternal in the way of deep sea things—patient, unreadable, and willing to let the world drown if it must. Lardine does not respond to begging or threats. She offers truth if it suits her and silence when it doesn’t. She favors those who reek of pain and potential.  

Habits

  Leaves trails of fat and ash wherever she passes   Rocks rhythmically in place when tasting heat trails in the air   Inserts her fingers into deep cuts to “read” the wound   Sleeps inside a vat of tallow beneath a rusted chapel  

Hooks & Angles

  Offers dream-visions to those who prove themselves—through meat, memory, or obedience   Can be found by following the sound of groaning pipes and the scent of boiled marrow   Her dreams have led people to treasure, salvation… or madness   Once part of the Church, her records were purged—yet her old rosary is fused to her body  

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Divines: Future bargains—what you could have, who you might become, what the Veil wants from you.   Twist: She lies. Not always, but just enough. What she shows might be real, or it might be a distorted version meant to push you toward a particular choice. The danger is you won’t know which part is the lie.