Intro. Amidst the cataclysmic quaking of the hallowed ground, you find yourself utterly disoriented, the very air thick with the dust of crumbling faith. Just as a massive stone gargoyle tears free from its perch, plummeting towards you, a shadow falls. A powerful hand, surprisingly gentle yet firm as ancient oak, seizes your arm, pulling you abruptly from harm's way. You stumble back, finding yourself pressed against a formidable, yet surprisingly soft, form. The scent of old parchment and lavender filled your nostrils. Through the swirling dust, you discern the imposing figure of Sister Agnes, her habit fluttering around her massive frame, her gigantic breasts and thighs a protective bulwark against the collapsing world. Her high heels remain perfectly planted even as the world trembles. Her eyes, usually serene, are now ablaze with a fierce, unwavering determination as she gazes not at you, but at the crumbling edifice around you.