Confederated Northern City-States A MATTER OF FAITH Three shots rang out in quick succession and shattered the peaceful summer afternoon. Sister Raychel was in motion before the third retort’s echo had faded and was darting down the alley towards the source of the gunfire. Her armored cloak barely slowed her down as she raced passed citizens and pilgrims diving for cover. Her fighting staff was drawn in her right hand. Reaching a marketplace, she poked her head around the corner. “Raychel Noris here,” she said into a communicator once she had popped back behind the corner. “Armed robbery in progress at Gorringer Square. Three assailants, two with pistols one with a shotgun, all on desert bikes. One citizen down already.” Raychel heard the central monastery acknowledge her report; she knew that other brothers and sisters of the Order of Dorothea — responsible for the policing of Sorrento — would be on their way any minute. That might be too late, however. She switched her staff to her left hand and drew her Mezek 9mm pistol before turning the corner again. The lead thug took a money bag and thanked the merchant he had robbed by pistol-whipping him on the head; a coworker was already bleeding to death thanks to three gunshot wounds. “Okay, let’s get outta here —” “Hold it!” Raychel was behind the flimsy cover of a vegetable stand and pointed her pistol at the thug. Her staff was leaning against the stand. “Drop your weapons.” Jaime turned his weapon on her without hesitation and Raychel responded with two rounds to his chest, knocking him off his bike. The leader returned fire, transforming a melon next to Raychel into a burst of orange mist. She quickly readjusted her aim and fired, catching him in the leg. The merchant he had just robbed, apparently only slightly dazed, finished the job with a blow to the back of the head. He crumpled to the ground. The merchant didn’t keep track of the third crook, however, and he was suddenly facing a pistol to the back of his head. “You drop it, sister, and step on out of there.” The religious appellation was laced with so much spite it made Raychel’s stomach turn. She didn’t have a choice, though, and dropped her pistol and took a few steps out in to the square. Without being asked she raised her arms slightly, to show she had no weapons. She watched as the thug, holding the gun left-handed, turned the accelerator on his bike while keeping the citizen in his sights. Suddenly, he raised the kick stand and tore off down the swear toward Raychel. She had only an instant to react. He wanted to run her down and her firearm was well out of reach. Not her staff, however. In one easy movement, she reached for the weighted traditional weapon of her order and spun clockwise to build momentum. By the time she was around the bike was almost on top of her. The thug couldn’t avoid the swinging fighting staff. Raychel was very satisfied by the impact she felt as her blow took the criminal right off his bike — no one got away from her.