Amidst the smoke and sacrilege of mechanized slaughter, walks the Exactor — a divine sentinel of the Sacred Costalera, an order of militant nuns forged in flame and fervor. Clad in austere robes reinforced with chainmail and marked by holy sigils, the Exactor is the embodiment of divine judgment: an orthodoxy officer whose sacred duty is to instill the Fear of the Divine in the wavering hearts of soldiers.
Where chaplains bring comfort, the Exactor brings consequence. She walks the lines not to soothe, but to scour. Her presence alone, a towering figure with a cruciform stave in one hand and a sanctified lash in the other, is enough to quiet murmured blasphemies and straighten spines bowed by doubt. Her eyes, ringed with ash and penance, see not only the body but the soul, and she is quick to mete out holy punishment to those who stray from the righteous path.
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