[IC] The Sinful Stars

[Penny]

Annika nodded solemnly, though in practice she was far from certain. The plan, reinforced by the grim shape of it in Orion's surface thoughts made sense, but she was not a commander in any sense of the word.

"With the Pancreator's aid," she agreed and stepped onto the side of the hovercraft before turning back to Orion.

"May he aid and watch over you this day," she concluded before leaping from the hovercraft onto the side of a tracked vehicle that looked like it had began life as an armored personnel carrier but the top had been opened to allow a trio of pintle mounted machine guns to placed behind olive drab metal gun shields. She caught hold of the netting that secured the soldiers personal possessions to the side and pulled herself up into the fighting compartment. The three soldiers inside, all out of uniform looked at her in surprise. That was to be expected of course as the sudden appearance of a priest would have been unusual at the best of times. Fortunately they didn't waste time questioning her authority.

Within minutes the small procession of tracked vehicles was trundling north away from the main body of Orion's force. It both surprised and bothered Annika that there was no attempt being made to stop the ad hoc force. The radios that could have countermanded Orion's orders remained silent and no angry officers appeared to demand the troops return to their proper posts. Perhaps the Pancreator merely looked with favor on his servants, that certainly would have been the orthodox reply, but somehow Annika knew that wasn't it.

They drove into a section of open parkland, heavy vehicles churning up shrubs and shattering the small decorative saplings which had been planted there. A large statue depicting Saint Athelea dominated the center, twenty feet tall and holding her healing lancet aloft in praise of the Pancreator. Annika stood on the back of her vehicle, waving both her hands to stop at the following vehicles. One by one the ground to a halt, the clanking of tracks subsiding so that only the grumble of diesel engines remained.

"How long do we wait Sister?" the commander, a brawny man named Haldane, asked, adjusting the fit of his helmet for the hundredth time since she had come aboard. His mind was clear, tinged with nerves certainly, but focused on the task at hand. If he had any objections to being given orders by a clergywoman, she couldn't sense them.

"Once the shooting starts, we will give them a few minutes to get fully engaged and then we will move towards the river as Sir Pentecost desires," she told the man, injecting a confidence into her voice she did not feel. In the distance the crack of weapons was already audible as the Vuldrock's reached the city but she knew that was just acts of random murder of exuberance as opposed to a real battle. The sound of heavy gun fire would come soon enough.

"Will you bless us Sister?" Haldane asked unexpectedly, turning her thoughts away from rampaging hordes of Vuldrocks overrunning Orion's small force.

"Of course," she replied, climbing atop a crate of ammuntion so she could be seen, though probably not heard, by the majority of the vehicles.

"Blessed Pancreator, Lord of Battles, grant your favor to your children this..." Haldane's sharp intake of breath and surge of fear cut her off and she glanced quickly over her shoulder. From the treeline at the edge of the park four figures all cowled and dressed in black had emerged and were striding purposely towards the collection of vehicles. Annika narrowed her eyes, a subtle sense of wrongness prickling at her palms and the nape of her neck. The leader appeared to be a man, but she had the impression the three followers were female.

"A cunning plan Deaconess," the black clad man called, his voice disturbingly audible even over the rumble of a score of engines. He stopped and placed his hands on his hips, looking her up and down appraisingly.

"Unfortunately, I cannot allow this young upstart to disrupt plans which we have laid so carefully," he went on. The foremost gunner had swung his weapon to bear on the cluster of black clad figures, as, she expected, had most of the rest of the column. She opened her mouth to give the order to open fire, however these people were they were certainly no friends of hers but before she could speak the leader calmly addressed his three followers.

"Kill them all," he asked in a bored tone that he might have used to order more wine, "Leave the Priestess to me." Sudden witch light sprang into existence, limning the figures and the vehicles with ghostly greenish fire that seemed to crawl over everything.

"Fire!" Annika shouted but the command was drowned out by Haldane's screaming. Corpecent flame burst from his eyes like great geyers and his skin sizzled and burned, shrinking in on itself like drying leather. The remaining members of the crew, likewise aflicted, dropped to the ground, ankles drumming on the armored deck plates as they died. There was a convulsive burst of gunfire as a gunner on another vehicle clamped his trigger in his death throes and sparkling tracers ricocheted off the statue of the saint. Annika screamed and then began to chant a litany of protection, too late she feared for anyone but herself but the black clad leader simply stalked forward towards her vehicle. Giving up on the Theury she leaped over the body of the lead gunner and grabbed the machine gun by its heavy grips, dragging it across its slow traverse towards their attackers. She squeezed the trigger as the gun bore on the three women and it roared to life, explosive bullets kicking up bucket fulls of dirt as it clawed the ground. One of the chanting women threw up her hands and collapsed as gyzers of dirt spouted beside her but by now the leader had reached the track. His mouth opened and he spoke a word so blashmemous that Annika's grip on the gun faltered. A great mass of black shadow seemed to explode from his mouth like a crashing wave, fingers of darkness rushing up over the armored prow of the vehicle like questing tentacles. The darkness seized Annika and she was lifted into the air, her flesh crawling and burning with cold agony where the icy impossible darkness gripped her. She opened her mouth to scream and felt blackness pouring down her throat. The last sensation she experienced before darkness swallowed her was the distant roar of heavy guns as the Vuldrocks reached Orion's position.

[POOHEAD189]

It had all happened so fast.

It wasn't so much of a charge as a wave when the Vuldrok's broke through the treeline. Axes and lasweaponry, mixed in with more primitive yet highly effective gunpowder armaments waved about and fired at the defender's direction. Orion had held the men back until the barbarians were at the maximum effective range, and then he ordered for them to fire. What few cannons and artillery batteries the Duke's forces had opened fire and blew chunks out of the earth, spitting body parts and blood across the now broken ground. They were followed by the rifle fire from the rooftops, which in turn were drowned out by the massive volley of pistol and shotgun blasts tearing through the Vuldrocks until all became a massive, bloody melee.

Orion stood at the vanguard, his senses battle-hardened and used to the cacophony of warfare. Every stroke at him was riposted and every gunshot his way was blocked or taken in a graze. He punched a Vuldrock's face so hard he shattered his teeth, and clove his comrade's arm off with a mighty swing of his sword. He was glad for the smaller, individual commanders that controlled their platoons, as they concentrated fire on what small vehicles the Vuldrock's utilized, along with where their army was thickest in numbers. It was so consuming to Orion, that when the battle was over and the Vuldrocks retreated...when his army was in tatters but ultimately victorious...he realized no cavalry had come.

The Knight was on his knees amid a pile of slaughtered bodies, and miles around him there were perhaps a hundred living souls still alive. Everyone else had been turned into a corpse. He could barely lift his hand to feel his cut face, and he didn't know who's blood was upon his shoulders and chest armor. Was Sergeant Burnside alive? He didn't know. He couldn't begin to think on what to do now, other than he needed to know what happened to Annika.

Out of the darkened shadows of the early morn, Ragnar appeared. His axe and furs smeared with gore, but he seemed alive if nothing else. The Vuldrock strode up to Orion, and the Knight didn't know if the Vuldrock was there to strike a killing blow or aid him. His question was answered when the barbarian offered his hand to help him up.

"We need to find my confessor." Orion growled.
@Penny

[Penny]

Thunder rolled overhead as Ragnar looked around the carnage, several of the soldiers watched him warily, though his conversation with Orion stopped them from shooting him. The dead lay in heaps and the moans of the wounded could be heard from inside bullet riddled buildings and the reek of flesh blood, shattered entrails and the noxious byproducts of gunpowder and lasers filled the air.

"This is what happens when you leave a woman in command," Ragnar opined, ignoring the hard look Orion shot him.

"If they are not destroyed, my people will seek some other victory," Ragnar went on, "they will not want to return to our worlds empty handed."

There was a sudden clattering of boots off in the distance, the staccato beat indicating marching men. A blood spattered Sergeant Burnside emerged from higher up the paved street as a run, an improvised bandage, already soaked in blood wrapping his forehead. He pushed his way through the dazed survivors to Orion and stiffened to attenion.

"Sir, the Ducal Guard is on the way, of my boys called to tell me they have orders to arrest you," Burnside spat out, the outrage evident in his voice. The idea that fifty or a hundred armed and armored men had waited till the fighting was over before marching out to arrest the commander galled him. Ragnar barked a laugh of genuine amusement that startled all the survivors.

"Lets see if we can't find out what happened to my confessor before we worry about that," Orion half snapped. As he spoke the clouds opened and it began to rain.

_____

The left Seargent Burnside in charge of the defenders, thanking that soldier for his promise to stall the Ducal Guard and set off to the north. As far as plans went it was ruidmentary but finding a score of armored vehicles did not prove to be much of a task. The population was keeping inside and the park was deserted save for the rumble of armored vehicles, drawn up in place as though they were on parade. The rain slashed down in sheets soaking Orion and Ragnar and steaming of hot engines and exhaust ports. The smell of burned flesh was potent even over the diesel fumes of the idling vehicles.

"Witchcraft," Ragnar snarled, running his thumb along the blade of his axe and drawing blood which he shook to the four winds in a warding gesture.

"Annika?" Orion called but there was no response from the priest or from anyone. Ragnar walked to the nearest vehicle and hopped up onto its track like a toad and peered inside. The Vuldrok swore a sulfurous oath in his own tongue. Reaching down into the vehicle he lifted a trooper out by the scruff of the neck. The man's face was blackened and blistered and his empty eye sockets had been burned black. Ragnar unceremoniously dropped the corpse back into the tank and then hopped over to a half track with a heavy recoiless rifle. He hauled up a second corpse with the same wounds.

"Witchcraft," he repeated.

[POOHEAD189]

Orion knew that Ragnar was likely right, but that seemed impossible. In fact the whole debacle seemed impossible. Orion and his courtiers, if they could be called that, had commandeered the engineers and troops right from under the Duke's nose, much less anyone else who would likely be even less informed. How the hell did anyone other than Vuldrok's ransack the armored column? And even if it were Vuldrok's, this wasn't there style. He found no traces of any of the telltale axe wounds or even corpses of the barbarians.

The burn wounds upon the men's eyes were very much witchcraft, or perhaps some alien weapon he had never heard of. Witchcraft was the most likely culprit, so it was what they were going to go off of for now. Damn! If his Confessor had died, the Baron would be furious. That coupled with what will likely be considered a 'coup' of the Duke's forces and his name will be besmirched forever. Not only that, but the sister had grown on him. He found he was as worried, if not more worried over her well-being as he was his honor.

As he and Ragnar continued to pick their way through the debris and steel of the legion of vehicles, he marveled there were only a handful that had seemed to be damaged or keeled over. Passing by one such vehicle, he heard a haggard, weak cough that brought both his and Ragnar's attention. The Knight and Vuldrok shared a look before they knelt down to listen, and after a few moments they heard it again. It came from under the flipped truck.

Orion motioned for Ragnar to take the back end of the vehicle, and the two men readied themselves and moved in unison. The Knight's cabled muscles with Ragnar's brute strength were enough to send the truck over to the left to stand on its side, before rolling it upright. Underneath, there was a soldier that was covered in soot and oil, eyes squinting at the risen sun as he looked around. "Where am I?" He whispered hoarsely.

"You're in the remains of the armored column-" Orion began, before Ragnar grunted. "We'll be asking the questions, little man."

Orion shot him a warning look, and obediently Ragnar stepped back. The Knight knelt down to help the man up, and after a second to reorient himself, it dawned on him. "You're commander Pentecost." He said.

"What happened here?" Orion asked.
@Penny

[Penny]

The trembling man shivered in the rain pulling his fire scorched uniform around him. There seemed to be burns around his eyes, red and weeping sera but he didn't seem to have noticed them. The one over his right eye appeared to be in the rough shape of the sigil of the Universal Church. The soldier glanced around in shock as though he couldn't truly believe he was still alive.

"The Sister, she had us stopped here, waiting for the shooting to start," he began stammering through the sentence. He made a vague gesture towards the west where the distant spire of the church could be seen even through the rain by the illumination in its stained glass window.

"I was... watching my sector and the corporal... Pancreator save me..."

"You will need your cursed Pancreator if you don't get on with it!" Ragnar snapped. Orion shot him a quelling glance but it seemed to brace the soldier up somewhat.

"The cororal says four guys in black came out of the woods, and they were saying something to the Priest and then... and then they were screaming, screaming and burning and my eyes were locked on the stained glass window and I couldn't turn away, then I heard the big MG70 on the main truck open up, I dont know if it hit anything but all of a sudden it got real cold and ... and I don't remember after that," the soldier trailed off. After a moment he began to weep babbling about the Pancreator and the cold.

Scanning the area Orion's augmented eye traced where gunfire had churned the earth to a body clad in black and up until then unnoticed in the rainy gloom. Ragnar jumped down and strode over to the body seizing the dead woman by the hair and hauling her up for Orion's inspection. Her face was familiar, though glanced only out of the corner of an eye as one of the hangers on during their brief audience with the duke earlier in the day. Her eyes hadn't been completely black back then however.

"Black Magic," Ragnar repeated disapprovingly, his ominous words punctuated by the crack of lightning overhead.

_________________________________

Annika woke with a start, gasping for air as she remembered the feeling of dark black energy, cold as the void and hot as the fading suns pouring down her throat. Instinctively she grabbed for the holy symbol she wore around her neck but her hand was snapped short by something hard and metallic almost as soon as she began to move, a rattle of chains confirming what the cuffs on her wrist had already presaged. Her eyes opened onto blackness and felt a momentary rush of claustrophobic dread at the thought she had been buried alive.

"Ah, you are awake," came a familiar voice from out of her field of view. Two luminator lamps lit, filling the air with a harsh white light that someone managed to be even more unpleasant than the darkness had been. Annika blinked her eyes, sneezing at the rapid change in illumination and then looked around. She appeared to be on a stone bier chained at wrist and ankles with archaic cuffs with silver chains that ran down to bolts in the floor. A circle with strange symbols hand been carefully scribed around her in what looked to be some kind of reflective paint. Above here were the familiar arches that formed the basis of all theological architecture and she was instantly able to orient herself as being in the nave of a church, even though the illumination hardly seemed to pierce more than a few feet in any direction. The alter should be behind her somewhere but a prickle in the back of her neck warned her that she didn't want to try to hard to look at it.

Annika realized how cowl had been removed but she was otherwise fully clothed and apparently unharmed. With a shock she remembered that Orion was depending on her to come to his aid. She heaved at her chains with all her might but she might as well have tried to push a mountain for all the good it did her. Defeated physically she lashed out with her mind, though the intent of the psychic emanation was uncertain even to her. The lights dimmed and the paint seemed to shimmer but nothing else happened.

"Careful, you dont want to do yourself an injury," the voice said with supreme lack of concern. Annika turned her head, her normally coiled braid flopping to the side as she did so. It was Engel. The Dukes Chamberlain was once again dressed in his courtly best, though he was carefully applying make up of some sort to conceal some sort of burn or disfiguration on his wrists.

"The Pancreator will curse you Apostate," she snapped, struggling once again against her chains, trying not to think of Orion being borne down under a tide of Vuldrock. Engel yawned theatrically and stood up walking over towards her without crossing the edge of the circle. He smiled down at it proudly.

"Rather good work don't you think, amazing what you can find in old books isn't it," Engel gloated. Annika glared at him but didn't dignify it with a response.

"Why am I here," she said in a voice as cold as ice. Engel arched an eyebrow.

"Right to business, no threats of being burned at the stake, no dire warnings of the Pancreators displeasure, no litany of curses for heretics?" Engel asked.

"That is all implied," she said between gritted teeth. Engel laughed delightedly and bowed in courtly fashion to her, palms pressed together after the al-Malik custom. He straightened and sobered.

"As it happens you are here to serve one of two purposes," he explained, then paused as if considering.

"I'm no fan of melodrama, this isn't a join us or die speech, but I would very much like you to join us," he explained and Annika could tell he meant it. She wondered if it was because she had managed to kill one of his confederates or if there were some other motivation. He held up a hand to forestall a response.

"Before you answer, please don't bore me with platitudes about how you are too pure to dabble in forbidden secrets, we both know that isn't true. There are other powers in the universe Annika, powers that reward their followers in this life as well as the next," he continued smuggly. Annika felt a spike of shame and worked to keep it from her face. He was right that she had strayed beyond the Orthodox teachings more enthusiastically than most but she had always told herself it was for the Pancreators glory and not her own.

"Where is Orion?" she demanded and Engel's eyebrow rose.

"Not Sir Pentecost, so informal already? How very al-Malik of you Sister," he tutted, then his face hardened.

"I'm afraid Sir Orion Pentecost is a captive of the Vuldrok Star Nation," he explained simperingly.

"It seems his plan rather depended on getting some help that never arrived, a pity really," Engel said and Annika felt another stab of panic and shame. Orion had depended on her and she had failed, now he might be worse than dead.

"Of course if you were willing to consider my offer, perhaps I could prevail upon my Vuldrok friends to release him unharmed, if not... well a famously unpredictable people the Vuldrok," Engel pretended to lament, his hateful smile sharp as a knife in the luminator light. Annika cursed silently.

"Think it over, I have other business to attend to, then I'll be back to discuss you answer," Engel told her, running his fingers through his dark hair to smooth it.

"What is the second purpose," she asked as he began to turn away. Engel looked back over his shoulder.

"I already implied I don't like melodrama Annika, this isn't the part where I tell you my evil plan. Think on my offer, and think on what might happen to your Knight if you refuse." With that he turned and extinguished the luminator, plunging the room into darkness filled with the echos of his retreating footsteps.

[POOHEAD189]

Orion and Ragnar, or more accurately, Orion made a difficult decision and deigned to keep away from the survivors of the battle. It could have been pure coincidence; perhaps an inner conspiracy that didn't reach the highest echelons of the Duchy. But seeing the woman he had recognized at court gave him a pit in his stomach, and he knew if he ever wanted to get Annika back alive, they needed to return to the Palace. But not as they were, or they would be taken back in chains.

Orion and Ragnar had turned north, following the rougher terrain and the curvature of the city, leaving behind the boneyard of lost vehicles. No doubt the military and whatever junkyard scrappers were around would soon arrive to claim the armor for themselves.

They traveled a few miles under the morning sun, keeping close to the factories that had popped up to their right and away from any roads that travelers might pass by. After an hour or two, the two men found refuge under what appeared to be an abandoned supply depot, likely evacuated from frequent Vuldrok attacks. The outside of it had shell marks from shrapnel, and it looked unclean and without maintenance for God knows how long.

Making their way up the loud, iron utility stairway, Ragnar and Orion found a smaller room where they could rest and keep their voices from carrying across the small compound. The barbarian looked even surlier and grim than usual, setting himself down in the corner and huffing. "So, we are to enter the Palace grounds when we don't know where the girl is or even if she is still alive?" He voiced aloud, showing just how ridiculous the plan was.

"Yes," Orion said, resting his head back against the wall, sitting across from the Vuldrok. "If you're too frightened to go, then I release you from my service." The statement was made with vitriol, and Ragnar was greatly offended at it. It meant either he was released and branded a coward, or he went and could not complain. Orion seemed apathetic at it, brooding over whether or not his confessor was still alive.

It irked him how much he cared about her safety. He felt if someone could read his thoughts, he would seem more like a worried puppy than the wolf he appeared. The thought of someone reading his mind only made him fret more, and with a growl he dispelled his thoughts and began to pray, asking for peace and tranquility to accept whatever life's reality was. Many good men had died today, and he was worried over one woman who might not even be dead.

"We go at night then?" Ragnar grumbled, and the Knight nodded.

"We go through the back tunnels." Orion said. "The Baron showed me a map of the city before I arrived here. It wasn't a blueprint of the palace, but there was marked transportation tunnels through the rear of the old city where the Palace sits. Likely there's little traffic, and even more likely there are sewers. We'll go into them and climb into the Duke's seat of power from below." It was the only plan he had. He prayed it worked.

"Sewers?" Ragnar echoed, scratching his scraggly beard. "What are those?"

"...Get some sleep. I'll take first watch."

[Penny]

Time passed slowly in the dark. Annika whispered her litany of protection through cracked lips, though if the Pancreator heard her, He gave no sign. As hateful as it was to admit, Engel evidently knew his business. The silver chains around her wrists were too tight for her to slip them, try though she might, through every iteration of Prana Bindu she knew she wasn't able to contort her hands or feet enough to slip so much as an inch. Attempts to break free with her psychic gifts were equally fruitless. The barrier Engel had erected was like a globe of water that surrounded her. Lash though she tried she could no more break it than she could shatter an ocean. Dark shapes flickered half seen in the gloom, shapes that were her own yet not. Perhaps, she could surrender to her Dark Twin? Perhaps she could succeed where Annika had failed. If Orion was already dead then...

A sudden groan in the darkness followed by a blistering oath broke her out of her bleak reverie. He had imagined she was alone down here but it appeared she was not. There was a rattling of chains, hatefully familiar, of to her right and then a muffled thud.

“May the Pancreater burn his marrow,” spat a voice in the darkness, oddly familiar despite the strange circumstances.

“Hello?” Annika called out, her voice emerging as a ragged gasp. It had been a long time since she had anything to eat and drink, and though her recent meditations shielded her somewhat from the effects of that, they were fast fading. The voice fell instantly silent and the noise ceased so completely that for a moment she thought she had imagined it.

“Hello,” she repeated trying to force her eyes to pierce the darkness. There was an unmistakable sigh.

“I should have expected to find you here heretic,” the voice replied wearily. Annika’s eyes opened wide.

“Mobian?” she demanded incredulously hardly able to fathom what the Avestii was doing in the dungeon.

“Do not befoul my name with your lips witch,” the voice snarled from the darkness.

“You should have killed me, if I get free of here I will see that you go to the stake for this,” Mobian growled. Annika was momentarily nonplussed until she realised that she was as invisible to Mobian as she was to him.

“I am a prisoner here,” she called, omitting the ‘you fool’, that formed in her mind.

“Spare me your pathetic rus witch,” the Avestii replied. Annika responded by rattling her chains, the best indication she could think of to assure the other priest of her predicament.

“An old trick,” he responded, though she thought his voice had lost some of its assurance. Annika heroically resisted the urge to grind her teeth.

“Well, why don’t you help me figure out a way to escape and then you can turn the tables on me,” she replied sarcastically. There was a long pause and for a moment she thought the other priest might have passed out.

“Acceptable,” he said at last.

“The Pancreator be thanked that your head isn’t quite solid granite,” she replied tartily.

“Do not make me regret agreeing to this,” Mobian growled. Annika briefly described how she had been bound, omitting any mention of the runic circle as likely to arouse too much suspicion without adding any useful information. Mobian was less certain of his own position, having been unconscious when they bought him down.

“You were an advisor to the Duke, why did Engel turn on you?” she asked once they had exhausted their meager options for the moment. Mobian huffed irritably and Annika could visualise his nostrils flaring with outrage.

“I thought the Duke was doing the Pancreator’s work,” Mobian admitted after a long moment, “cleansing pagans is a sacred duty after all.” Annika remembered her own assurances to Orion that the Pancreator had formed the pagan as surely as the faithful but she saw no benifit in a theological debate.

“In these times it is not a popular pursuit especially for the Hawkwood, though…” he paused before adding, “they aren’t as bad as some Houses I could name.” Annika addressed a quick silent prayer to the Pancreator for patience, and perhaps it worked, because Mobian returned to the point rather than launching into an attack against the Godless Republicans of Isktar.

“At first it seemed the Duke was just as I had supposed, a gifted and pious man but....” he trailed off.

“His prayers grew erratic and he seemed rarely to sleep, after that heretic loving knight of yours showed up I...overheard him speaking to someone that wasn’t there, I know it sounds like madness but it made me feel cold and wrong…. I conducted…” Mobian paused clearly unwilling to reveal the secrets of his order and rephrased he words.

“I prayed upon it and learned that it was more than madness though what I couldn’t say, before I could tell anyone of what I had learned I was set upon by the palace guard, they beat me unconscious and I awoke here,” Mobian concluded. Annika frowned, wondering if the guards were complicit as a group or if just a few were involved. It was even possible that Mobian was simply so irritating that innocent guards had been happy to beat the Avestii just for the chance to do so.

“So I suppose the question becomes why does Engel need two live clergy?” she asked.

“What? Engel? What has the chamberlain to do with this?” Mobian demanded. Annika described the events that had lead to Orion’s defeat, at the end of her account the Avestii was silent and the black anger coming off him was so hot she could nearly feel it.

“Of course, when I divined the Duke I found no taint, the heretic must be ensorcelling his mind,” Mobian said, his voice sharp with bitter hatred. Annika thought of the oily freezing darkness sliding down her throat and felt she understood the Avestii a little better than she had a few hours ago.

“Perhaps he means to sacrifice us to his Dark Masters,” Mobian speculated, “I’ve seen it before.” The words started something in Annika’s mind.

“Say that again,” she asked her the other priest.

“About sacrificing us?” Mobian asked, clearly puzzled.

“No,” Annika replied, “you said you had seen it before. I have an idea…”

[POOHEAD189]

Had he not grown up among the huge architecture of the aristocracy, he likely would have been feeling much how Ragnar was at the moment. The Vuldrok looked in awe at the roadway that looked too large to enter any earthwork save a mountain. The tunnel that led transports between the palace and the outer city looked vast enough for a starship to use as a runway. Orion sincerely hoped that was not apart of its intended use.

Huge fluorescent lights had powered on halfway through their trek within the concrete and steel tunnel, but it was so large that even the lights still didn't illuminate every corner; giving the road a bare minimum of lighting so as to help the transportation vehicles to travel easily. It was problem from some bureaucratic ruling that led to certain safety guidelines for men working directly under the Duke.

The two warriors ran on the emergency railway at the side of the road, laying low whenever there was a truck, which only happened twice. Halfway through, they found an iron grater they could break. To most men it would have ended there, but Ragnar and Orion had enough muscle power to break open something twice as thick.

It took them another two hours to slog through the sewers. It seemed endless, like purgatory that smelled of shit and raw wet. After thirty minutes, Orion felt as if he would suffocate from the wretched air, but he powered on until there was a ladder that descended as if from the very heavens of the Pancreator.

"I smell fresh air!" Ragnar cried in victory. He was silenced by Orion slugging him across the jaw. The barbarian tumbled into the sewage and spurted water out of his mouth, angrily growling until the Knight covered his lips.

"If the Duke or any of his servants hears a Vuldrok yelling below their feet, you'll ascend into execution, not fresh air understand?" He asked, grimly. Ragnar looked in his eyes and knew that if he had to, Orion would stick a knife in his throat to see that he did not make a noise. Vuldrok's were often boisterous, but Ragnar had generally been reserved. It seems their passion still resided in him, deep within.

Ragnar nodded, and Orion released him to step onto the stone platform. Ragnar sloshed out of the water as quietly as he could, and the two now stood under a beam of light that seemed all at once holy and damning. "We knock out who we can...we kill only who we must." Orion said, and he began to climb the ladder.

Thirty feet up, he pushed open the iron door and found his world flooded with breathable air as sweet as wine, and similar lighting to the tunnel. Only now there were dormant trucks and a few men in the distances on railings, busy with their own work in the Duke's hangar bay.
@Penny

[Penny]

"Are you ready?" Annika asked. The image she held in her mind was exactly how the room had appeared while Engel had illuminated it. Idetica, like Prana Bindu, was entirely a mental discipline and so wan't contained by the warding circle Engel had scribed. In her minds eye she could see the dimly lit interior of the church. Judging by the lack of light she assumed it was some subterranean part of the palace, possibly intended for use during a siege during Gwenneyth's often unsettled past. Using the sound of Mobian's voice she had been able to reason out where he was chained, atop another sarcophagus inside a small alcove down the nave towards where she presumed the door was. That information would have been useless in and of itself, but as the Pancreator willed it, there was a large bronze candelabra, intended to hold a sacred flame in front of the alcove. It was covered in verdigris, ancient and forgotten but it might afford them a chance to escape this place.

"As I will ever be," Mobian replied, his tone letting her know that he was less than thrilled to be accepting her help, even if it was his only option at the moment. Annika carefully worked her boot against the edge of the sarcophagus she lay upon. By slow degrees she was able to work it down her foot so that it hung from her toes.

"Now," she called and flicked the boot off her toes. It arched through the air, tumbling end over end before striking the candelabra. To Annika's eyes it was still pitch darkness but there was a scrape of metal as the candelabra toppled and then a grunt as it struck Mobian. Chains rattled as he grabbed for the bronze before it could slip to the floor.

"Got it," he called after what seemed like an age. There was a protracted period of rattling and then the guttural sound of a man straining under pressure. Finally there came a tearing sound and what she imagined to be a grunt of pain that would have been a scream in a normal person. Chain slithered to the ground like a metallic serpent and then she heard heavy boots hit the floor. Suddenly she could see a faint light cast from a pair of narrowed eyes as Mobian stepped out of the alcove, he turned and looked at her and she felt her soul shiver away from his burning gaze.

"The Pancreator's gaze pierces the lies of our hearts," Mobian quoted from the Omega Gospel. The Avestii were not without their own Theurgy but somehow it seemed strange to think of Mobian as employing them. He came towards her and she saw a large dark bruise discouraging his left eye as well as pressure cut welling blood above his eyebrow. Even taken by surprise Mobian had evidently put up quite a fight. He paused at the edge of the circle around her and scowled.

"I should leave..." he began but at the same instant his eyes flicked behind her towards the altar. Mobian opened his mouth in a choked scream and then staggered forward, falling across her heavily convulsing and with froth bubbling from his lips. The light in his eyes vanished and she was plunged back into darkness but the warding circle was broken. She caught Mobian's twitching form as best she could and began to whisper a litany of shielding. Mobian seemed to steady his body going limp but his breathing steady. She shuddered to think of what hung in the darkness that could affect a hardened Temple Avestii so. It seemed to loom behind her like some malign demon. She shuddered. She was still chained and Mobian's unconscious form was pressing down on her, but at least the warding circle was broken. That was something she could work with.

[POOHEAD189]

The Ducal guard's face was grave as he considered his options. He hadn't felt pressure like this in weeks. The man's mates were silent as the crypts, awaiting his decision. He breathed out, and made his decision with a pointed finger.

Quietly, he uttered. "Pancreator... grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can-"

"And the money to split the difference!" His mates roared, and they raised their glasses in a toast that clinked audibly. Choosing their drink of choice on their off day was never easy, but he'd chosen well and they drank heartily to their good fortune. The five of them had been suing for an off-day for over a month and finally they received their due.

It pained Orion that they needed to do this, but he and Ragnar had passed through nearly a mile of Palace through sheer luck and quick thinking. They had even acted as if Ragnar was Orion's prisoner for a brief interval near the entrance of the hangar. Now the two hid behind an alcove, watching from a dark corner at the men, wearing unbuttoned and wrinkled uniforms now playing cards in this guardsman lounge room.

"Don't kill them." Orion reminded Ragnar, and the Vuldrok nodded reluctantly. At that confirmation, Orion whispered for him to follow his lead, and the two big men crouched low and moved in unison past the equipment area toward the unsuspecting Ducal guards. As luck would have it, the men had already placed away their weapons. While outnumbered, Orion and Ragnar knew they had them.

Suddenly the two turned the corner and were in eyesight, but the men were both too uncaring and too engrossed in their game to really care until they saw Orion grab a chair in the background and raise it to crash against the man closest to them. The chair became so much kindling and cards flew ubiquitously across the room as the guards began to shout. Ragnar had knocked one of them out with the butt of his axe and was currently flooring another with his massive fists.

The last two men had time to raise themselves, and they weren't small or weak by any means. But they hadn't had any real experience in fighting save the odd drill in years, perhaps ever. It took only a minute for Orion and Ragnar to subdue them and hold them down until they confessed they would answer whatever questions they had. It felt almost blasphemous to put his fingers around the Ducal guard's throat, but Annika would be dead if he couldn't find her.

"Where is the al-Malik Confessor?"

The question was guttural, and the soldier didn't know how to speak for a moment until his head caught up with him. "W-What? How the hell should I know? We're off duty. Who are you?" He blundered, and vainly tried to loosen the grip on his neck. Orion's arms didn't budge, and he pulled the man around and shoved him against the wall. "Answer me or I'll cake the wall with your blood, knave!"

He found he actually believed his own words, and for that he was ashamed. But this was no time to second guess himself. @Penny

[Penny]

"Wait wait!" cried the man Ragnar was menacing with a knife. He must have looked, and smelled, like demon out of Ghenne, filthy with drying oudur and with white teeth drawn back in a snarl. The guardsman tried to hold up his hands in a placating guesture as Ragnar ground his face into the cearacrete floor.

"Look, I don't know nothing about no al-Malik priest, but Lord Engel had us grab the Inquisitor, said he was plotting against the Duke," the guard blurted, he seemed to grow hesitant but Ragnar encouraged him with a cuff across the back of the head. The guard yowled and cursed before blurting out the rest.

"We took him down into the lower level, there are hundreds of disused rooms down their, ruins really, Lord Engel said that it was the closest and safest church to confine the Inquisitor!" Though the guard obviously believed the explanation even a passing familiarity with Cannon Law would have told him such a thing was ridiculous. Priests could be and sometimes were arrested like anyone else, though their trials had to be conducted in Ecclesiastical courts rather than in civil ones.

"Good," Ragnar rumbled and then looked hopefully at Orion, "Can I kill him now?"

___________________________________

Annika stilled her mind. It was merciful that it was dark, to do what she was about to do in bright sunlight would have seemed even more of a sacrilige. Part of her mind told her that she shouldn't attempt the feat, that as a Daughter of the Church she should wait for the Pancreator to send some other form of deliverance, but what if this was the Pancreators will? Was it more of a sin to pass up his bounty, didn't that smack of hubris. The stilling of her mind obviously needed more work if she was pondering such theological questions. Though the warding circle had been broken by Mobian, she was still securely changed, and whatever the Avestii had seen on the altar had put him deep into the merciful embrace of unconsciousness. Psychically free but Physically chained was a paradox Estakonic pondered in their meditation, a way of thinking about the limitations of the flesh rather than an expectation of being in this exact position. The trick was to make the psychic physical which was, unfortunately no mean feat. As gently as she could Annika stretched out with her mind, finding the warm center of Mobian's being as he lay across her on the bier. A litany poured from her lips in hushed whispers as her body dissasociated and she seemed to suddenly feel as though her whole body were asleep the way a limb sometimes did after sitting on it while reading. A moment later she felt Mobian's body in the same way. Prickling pain shot up two sets of fingers as nerves cross connected in a way never imagined by the begin forces of the Pancreator's design. Annika opened Mobian's eyes and the Avestii came to his feet, his motion jerky with the muscule memory of a smaller woman. For a moment Annika toppled, disoriented in the darkness as she groped along her own body with calloused fingers to find the cuff on her right hand. With clumsy fingers she undid the claps, fumbling the attmept several times with the large graceless fingers, trying to ignore the screaming pain and mental alarm bells that were roaring in her mind. As her hand jerked free the psycic link broke and Mobian's body, once again animated by its proper spirit collapsed to the floor, his head striking the bier with an unmusical thunk.

"Blessed Panc..." Annika turned and vomited as her stomach churned at what she had just done, a thousand thousand biological impulses briefly doubled by the grotesque mental puppetry. In the back of her mind her Dark Twin capered and danced with delight. Wiping away the bile with her freed hand, she fumbled open the remaining cuffs and then slid from the bier, body aching from the uncomfortable pose into which it had been contorted. Her fingers found Mobian's pulse, strong despite the beating he had taken and she was pleased not to add his death to her sins this night.

"OK," she murmered and then, not quite believing she was doing this for this frothing bigot, she looped Mobian's arm over her shoulder and lifted the man as best she could, half carrying, half dragging him toward the door. What was she doing, she should leave him, he would only slow her down, better yes she should kill him, he would certainly do the same to her if their positions were reversed. If there was even a chance that she could save Orion she should... With her free hand she reached in and found her Jumpgate medallion, pulling it from her shirt and holding it before her. Her Dark Twin screamed at the interuption but she was able to, barely, ignore it long enough to grasp the polished symbol of her faith.

"Blessed Pancreator, Illuminate my path as your worlds Illuminate our passage through the Empyrean," she beseeched. A pale glow, just enough to illuminate the way infront of her sprung to life. A woman dressed in black stood in the doorway, a sardonic expression on her face and her arms folded.

"I take it you have decided not to join us," the woman all but purred. Annika drew in her will but in the blink of an eye tendrils of icy blackness sprang from the woman's back like an Urth Angel of lore. Lightning fast they lashed at her, a rind of frost forming at the womans feet as the black charnel power poured through her. Annika dropped Mobian face down onto the flagstones and dived out of the way, barley avoiding the strike. She scrambled behind a pillar, amulet still gripped tightly between her fingers and determinedly keeping her eyes from the Altar. Her hands felt around and found a lose flag stone, she pried it up and hurled it at the antimonist as she stalked towards her. A tendril batted the missile away even as others lashed out. Annika scrambled away, scarping her palms on the edge of a ceremonial window as she ducked back behind the bier on which she had been imprisoned. Desperately she lashed out with her own mind, though it was an instinctive blow rather than anything planned. SHe felt it strike the antimonist's mind like a boulder impacting a glacier, a momentary curiosity, devoured an eyeblink after it appeared. Annika and her Dark Twin screamed in thwarted frustration and very real fear.

"There is only one way this ends," the woman sneered, "either join us or make it easy on yourself and ill end it quickly." Annika cast around for an idea and then, suddenly, it hit her.

"That is actually two ways," she called from her cover behind the bier.

"How very pedantic," the antimonist sneered. Annika sprang from behind the bier, diving over the stone box. The woman slashed her tendril down to protect herself, but it wasn't an attack, she dove past the woman, evading the tendril of icy cold by millimeters, tucking into a roll. Her assailent spun to deal the death blow, delayed for but a few heartbeats, but Annika's finger swept in a curve on the flagstone, closing the circle with blood from her pricked finger. The tendrils of dark vanished in an eyeblink leaving the woman looking shocked and furious.

"How did you..." she demanded and then her confident sneer returned.

"Very clever Priestling, but I have but to step over the threshold and..." something flashed over Annika's shoulder and struck the woman with a sound like a meat hook striking a slab of beef. The antimonist let out a choked gurgle as she clutched at the metal shaft of the candelabra which now protruded from her chest like a boar spear impaling a kill. She reached towards Annika, staggered and collapsed to the ground in a spreading pool of blood. Their was an agonized scream somewhere else in the catacombs an Annika felt queasy spill over of a psychic link being severed. The third of the three women she had seen in the park was here, and she knew what had happened and where.

"Blessed Pancreator... purge the... purge," Mobian gasped before sinking to his knees.

"NO! no stay with me," Annika commanded rushing over to the Avestii and turning him away from the altar before he accidentally glanced at it again. He stumbled uncertainly, his skin clammy and unhealthy feeling to the touch.

"We have to find a way out of here," she told the half conscious priest. Much as she hated to admit it, she wished he had his flame gun right about now...

[POOHEAD189]

Orion and Ragnar let nothing stop their descent, breaking the limps of guards and pushing past any sort of quick and half-assed resistance as they made their way below. Fortune and surprise were still on their side, and the Palace was so large he wasn't even certain the Duke was privvy to any intrusion as of yet. He hoped that was the case at least, and judging by the lack of alarm he was likely correct.

The catacombs beneath the palace were baroque and ancient, made of less modern metals and stone from the bosom of the world. Ragnar recited a litany to one of his old gods, and though it grated Orion to hear it he wasn't going to reprimand him at the moment. There were ancient spirits in the deep places of the known worlds and Orion was simply glad the road they were on was relatively well lit.

Once they found themselves on a corridor that looked miles long, there was a screech in the distance. Far off and hard to pinpoint, to Ragnar it sounded like a bird sound or maybe an echo from above. Orion knew it to be Annika's voice immediately. He started to run, and soon he was like a freight train running past the abandoned rooms. Ragnar did his best to keep up, and though Orion outdistanced him he still kept the Knight in sight.

Despite his barreling run, when he made it into the tabernacle he saw a cloaked man laughing as if the funniest joke in the world had been concocted. Dark tendrils wrapped around Sister Annika and Mobius too! Orion shouldn't have been surprised the Ducal guard had been telling the truth. What's more, he recognized the gloating too. The voice was from one he wouldn't forget. It was Chamberlain Engel...

"I've changed my mind." the darkly clad Chamberlain said, raising his gloved hand and closing it into a fist. The tendrils curled around Annika with overwhelming strength, shoving the air out of her body. Mobius looked close to dead, if he wasn't already. "I see trying to convince you to join my cause is, for lack of a better term, a lost cause. So I think I will simply kill you now and be on my way to larger things."

As two large, sharpened tendril's raised in the air, he chuckled. "Fear not, Annika. At least you'll join your precious Sir Pentecost in the afterlife, or so you believe."

The Confessor's eyes widened in horror, which made Engel smile all the more. "Oh yes, he is dead, just as the Pancreator. And now it is your turn!"

The shadowing energy that kept Annika and Mobius lifted suddenly dispelled, as did the two monstrous tendrils threatening to kill both of them. Annika hid the ground, and when she recovered herself she saw a blood covered sword had thrust out of Engel's chest, the Chamberlain falling into oblivion. Where he once stood was Orion.
@Penny

[Penny]

The cold pierced to her very soul, freezing and burning her from the inside out. As Engel's dark tendrils coiled around her and crushed her, she felt the very light of the Pancreator being stripped away from her as though salvation was being torn away from her by the dark forces that permeated the air. Vistas of infinite and terrible darkness seemed to open up before her, and something dark and demonic leered upwards above her. The skeins of the future seemed to spool out in front of her, stretching away to a multitude of futures. In each future she saw Orion striding forward against the darkness, towards a vast statue an a blasted plain. From the statue he seemed to multiply striking out in various directions. She saw him commanding fleets, leading armies, kneeling before the thrones of Emperors and Patriarchs, each threat that was spun from beyond the statue glowed with the light of the Pancreator. In an instant she fathomed the things purpose, at least as much as any human could understand such a thing. It wanted to sever Orion's thread now. That wasn't its only puprpose, there were glimpses of other designs, dark and terrible yes, but each secondary to the goal of snuffing out the life of an insignificant knight. And it had succeeded. Succeeded because she had failed, because she had been unable to overcome Engel and his antimony to fulfil her part of the plan. Guilt, darker and blacker than any she had ever experienced washed over her and she leaned forward, wishing for the release of death as completely as she had ever wished for anything.

The darkness around her shattered with the suddenness of a lightning strike. She fell to the ground in a half swoon, her limbs and core suddenly burning with the absence of the chill of damnation. As the light faded from her eyes she caught a brief glimpse of Orion, shining with the same light she had seen in her vision, only for a moment before it faded and he was just a man with a bloody sword in his hand. In her last moment of consciousness, her lips curved into a smile.

"What did he hope to accomplish?" the Duke declared as he paced the great hall. Orion was shocked by the change he had seen in the nobleman in the two days since Engel's death. Eyes that had been filled with confusion had cleared, and though the Duke seemed physically weaker, his resolve had evidently been strengthened by enduring whatever ordeal he had face while under his chamberlain's heretical spell. The palace guard had arrested Orion and Ragnar as they carried the unconscious Annika from the bowels of the palace. The Priestess had been taken for medical treatment by the Sanctuary Aeon, under guard but treated well. Orion and Ragnar had been thrown into prison cells and might have rotted there if salvation hadn't come from the most unlikely of souces. Brother Mobian had strode, bloody and limping from the catacombs and, with flame gun in hand, ordered the guards to release Orion. Ragnar had been freed too, though this was likely an oversight. The Avestite had then marched them into the presence of the Duke who while evidently free of Engel's witchcraft, had still been dazed and confused. Within minutes of Orion explaining himself, the Duke had mobilized not only the remainder of the cities garrision but also his own well equipped palace guard, and hurled the Vuldrock, alreadly bloodied by Orion, back in full retreat. Allies of Engel's had been rounded up to be questioned by Mobian as well as a Reeve in order to ensure the Inquisitor did not let his faith get the better of him. Of Annika little was said, other than she was alive and recovering and that the sisters would not countenance her being disturbed at this time. What Mobian's opinion of this was remained unknown, though his face twisted in distaste whenever the subject was mentioned.

"Who can say what a heretic plans my lord," the Inquisitor responded.

"Especially after you burned all his papers," Ragnar guffawed. The zealot spun on the pagan with a look of cold fury on his face.

"You dare insult the...!" Mobian began eyes wide and filled with indigation but the Duke quelled the outburst by stepping forward and placing a hand on the Avestite's shoulder.

"He means no insult, he is a pagan and thus unaware of the proper way of things," the Duke consoled the priest.

"For myself, I find myself pleased that his heresy was cleansed so thoroughly. You have my thanks Father." The Duke smiled and stepped past the priest to stand before Orion.

"And you Sir Pentecost, we find ourselves in your debt, how may we ever begin to repay your valiant aid in this dark time?"

[POOHEAD189]

"None, my lord." Orion said without skipping a beat. He had driven past kneeling before the Duke after the fourth time he had been told to rise. Orion now stood in the central palace chamber with a man far above even his liege's status, speaking almost as equals. Ragnar looked particularly unimpressed, but he suspected the Vuldrok was simply ignorant of the honor. The barbarian stood there, picking his beard of crumbs from the small feast they had been given earlier.

"Sir Pentecost, I must insist I grant you a boon. Please, do not dishonor me with a refusal." The Duke intoned with a smile, placing a hand on Orion's shoulder. The Knight felt as if he was taking advantage of a confused man, as no one knew what he remembered or truly believed of all Mobius had told him of Engel's treachery. He considered what it is he could want. To serve the Emperor directly was certainly his greatest goal, but he had not earned it yet. To see Annika up and about, with the bright glint in her intelligent eyes rekindled was what he most wanted in the immediate future.

And then he realized just what would be a good wish to have granted. He cleared his throat. "My lord, may I answer to you rather than my current liege, and may Annika become my permanent confessor until I am no longer in need of one?" He asked, fairly certain they had only been placed together for this one mission. With a Duke who enjoyed his skills and a guarantee of Annika at his side, he was certain he could serve the Pancreator to his fullest. Even nearly a head taller than the Duke, he felt very weak at that moment with the man's face clouded in thought.

"I can perform the former request." He said finally. "But as for the latter, I have no control over the clergy. Brother Mobius on the other hand..." The aristocrat gave the priest a hard look. One that made the priest quell in fear for a brief moment, before he sighed. "Well, she is a witch. But a useful witch. It is not my decision, but I do have friends in places that can arrange such a contract." He tried to regain a bit of dignity, placing his robe sleeves together in a semblance of holy consideration. "Consider it done."

Ragnar cried out in triumph, and Orion looked satisfied and relieved. At least the Vuldrok didn't call out to his pagan gods. Orion regarded the Duke. "May I see the sister, my lord? I do wish to see how she is."
@Penny

[Penny]

Annika sat cross legged in her cell listening to the peaceful choral music of the Sanctuary Aeon choir. Though not a powerful sect like the Orthodox or the Temple Avestii, the healers of the Universal Church enjoyed a power based on their sheer ubiquity. The stretched across the Known Worlds with enclaves in every city large enough to have the name. Their house here was on the outskirts of the city, on the other side to that which the Vuldrok had attacked as fortune, or the Pancreator willed it. It was an impresive building of soaring marble arches surrounded on all sides by acres of neatly manicured gardens tended daily by the dozen or so novices in residence. As a member of the clergy Annika had been granted special treatment, her own cell in the living wing rather than in the more crowded wings in which the sick lay on cots while the Sisters worked their Theury over them.

The wounds Annika had sustained had been healed over the past two days, though the marks of Engel's attack had not been completely erridcated by prayer of the chemical unguents the Sisters had plied her with. Long spiralling burns ran from her elbows down over her breasts. The difference in shade from her normal skin was slight, only visible under the right lighting conditions but precise enough to cause a stir. Every sister from novice to mother superior had contrived to take a look at her and all were equally baffled. Whether they were a dark mark or a holy stigmata Annika couldn't say. She didn't feel any different, impatient and eager perhaps, but not soiled or exalted. She had asked several times to see Orion, but had been resolutely told that he was busy at the palace and would be able to visit as soon as the rites of purification were complete. Annika herself had not yet been judged fit for release, although the exact reason for this remained mystifyingly vague. Given what she had seen in her vision she was willing to wait for the Pancreator to judge the moment right, and she was unwilling to violate cannon law, a charge which Bishop Cranmer, once he learned that neither of them had yet been killed or burned as heretics, was likely to seize upon.

"You are a hard woman to find," a gravely voice said from behind her. Annika pivoted smoothly and dropped into a fighting stance, hands held before her defensively and her mind slipping into the mental disciplines of Prana Bindu before she could think. A scruffy looking man sat on her bed, looking for all the world as though he had been there all morning. Logan Christopher was dressed in a smart business suit which clashed horribly with his unkempt beard. How he had managed to find her, much less cross most of the way around the world was anybodies guess.

"What are you doing here," she asked her voice dropping as she glanced around fearful of what the sisters might do if they found a man invading their private quarters. Logan stretched out on her pallet, resting his head on one palm and looking extraordinarily pleased with himself.

"You said you had a job for me," he prompted.

"I said it was an interview," she corrected, hastily pulling the curtain to ward off casual observers.

"Well? Did I pass?" the thief asked with an arched eyebrow. The curtain was pulled back with a sudden swoosh of fabric.

"Sister Annika you have a..." the Mother Superior stood in full robes flanked by Orion and Ragnar both dressed in fine new clothes.

"... a visitor," she trailed off with a disapproving scowl.

[POOHEAD189]

Orion had talked the halls with a dangerous look to his eye(s), thoughts on how Annika was feeling just behind the veil of his concerns on whether this was somehow a vast, elaborate trap. He trusted the Duke, but he had never been treated well by his soont-to-be-former Baron. It had on him edge, and since he was, Ragnar sensed it like a hound. Vuldroks were a strange people, but they had good instincts even if they were lacking in the forward thinking department. Luckily, even with his guard up he could tell no one around him had any inkling of bad faith on their part. Perhaps he was simply eager to see Annika, and he simply wished to not admit it. Pancreator knew that was likely the case.

They descended to the medical cells where they kept patients still healing, the lead guardsmen giving a curt nod to the Mother Superior, who would escort them the rest of the way. Of course it was only about a dozen meters, but honor and duty dictated they follow ceremonial protocol. She was a matronly woman with a wide, shoulder length cut of hair behind two cervic bars of plasteel material connected to an ornate stethoscope device with nearly a half a dozen other functions Orion was only tangentially aware of from when he was injured during his lifetime.

"Here we are." She declared, robotic and emotionless in her tone. She wooshed the fabric out of their way to present Annika, her back turned to the cage and looked well despite a faint palour in her demeanor. Orion noticed the Mother Superior's tone went from bland to disapproving when her eyes fell on a strange man in the area with Annika. Ragnar looked confused, and Orion's eyes suddenly erupted in wrath, blazing at the sight of someone who was clearly a stranger in an area of restricted access so close to Annika.

"And who might this be?" The Mother Superior asked warily, slim arms crossed before her robes. Orion's broad-bladed longsword was already six inches out of its sheath, eyes fixed on the thief. Clearly he was one of course, despite the suit. He had a way of looking with his eyes that showed he looked at every possible venue of both escape and advantage. Even if he didn't steal apples from a local market, he was corrupt in his disposition.

"Yes, who is this?" Orion asked, menace in his voice. Ragnar behind him smiled through his blonde beard, not quite understanding what was happening, but eager to torture someone or something.

Logan Christopher looked on edge, but not overly fearful. He looked to Annika and then to the cadre of people who were now threatening him, weighing his options. "I see I showed up at a bad time?" He asked the sister, keeping his hands where everyone could see them lest someone leap over and cleave him in two.

[Penny]

Annika stood slowly, fighting the grimace of pain that her still recovering wounds tried to twist her face into. She was pleased to see Orion whole and well, even if she knew that it must be so. She lay a hand on the thief's shoulder and Logan flinched as though it were heated, an unfortunate reaction but not unexpected.

"This is Logan Christopher," she said truthfully, earning another wince from the thief as she revealed his true name. It was unlikely that anyone on this far side of the planet could connect him with an escape from judgement a half a world away. Regaining his composure he tugged his forelock to Orion and the Mother Superior.

"Sir, Your Holiness," he mumbled, shuffling his feet.

"I heard his confession before I was asked to join Sir Pentecost on this quest," she went on, shading the truth very slightly, "I had not yet had a chance to deliberate on an appropriate penance when I was called away." The Mother Superior arched her eyebrow at that.

"And what are his sins Daughter?" she asked sternly. Annika's face hardened ever so slightly.

"His sins are between him and the Pancreator," she replied sternly. The Mother Superior blinked and then looked slightly embarrassed, probably at having appeared to have misrepresented the Omega Gospel more than for the fact she had asked such a personal question.

"Quite," the older woman said austerely, "and what of his penance, that you may discuss with an Ecclesiastical Superior and I order you to do so." The Sanctuary Aeon was letting it known that she wouldn't be brooked in her own halls by a cleric several levels her junior and of a different order besides.

"He is to make a pilgrimage to the Gargoyle of Nowhere and seek the Pancreators forgiveness." She hadn't finished the sentence before the world 'What?!' was shouted at her from various directions, not least from Christopher himself who turned to stare at her as though she was insane. Such an act would have been more appropriate for patricide than simple larceny.

"Sister Annika..." the Mother Superior began but closed her mouth rather than continue the discussion. Now that the pronouncement had been made she had no authority to countermand it and beside what skin of her teeth was it if an Estakonic started doling out impossible penances?

"I have taken into account the fact that he chose to enter your convent uninvited," she added dryly, figuring that sin at least was public enough not to be protected by a penitents privilege.

[POOHEAD189]

Orion Pentecost's initial response would have been 'what are you playing at Annika?' but it would have been entirely too familiar and too accusatory. The Knight's face spoke volumes however, not entirely knowing where she was going with this or whether it would stain his honor by following, but quickly a thought occurred to him. Perhaps the Gargoyle of Nowhere was the place where he might find spiritual guidance after he leaves the baron's service. He had longed to be relieved of his distant cousin's court for years, but now that the duke was seeing to it, he knew not where to go. Technically Annika was his confessor rather than he playing the role of her bodyguard, and stupidly he realized that she hadn't said she was going there at all. Only this man whom he didn't entirely trust.

Briefly he wondered if he had some weird, delayed version of the Sathra effect.

At the end of his deliberations, he decided he would acquiesce to whatever she was suggesting, when she suggested it. He and Ragnar had not risked life and limb to save her only to denounce her now, though it seemed a suspicious affair. He was certain she had a good reason. He'd once met a mercenary member of house Xanthippe, and the sister Annika had a look in her eye much like the mercenary had.

"Every man deserves a chance at forgiveness," Orion declared with surety, though he felt painfully arrogant proclaiming the word in front of the Mother Superior. "If that is the pancreator's will. And only he may decide, yes?"

"Yes, of course," The Mother Superior replied, emphasizing each word so as to convey she was growing tired of this little exchange of theirs. Her eyes fell upon Annika once more. "Sister, he can go where he likes to seek solace or forgiveness, but I do expect an explanation as to why you found it prudent to speak to him under my sanctuary without my knowledge, and I'm certain your Knight here is also curious as to your...methods. Estakonic's are known for breaking the mold, as it were. Perhaps the confessor can dole out a confession for once."

She cleared her throat, halting any further reply. "Well, we can discuss everything tomorrow. You, Logan Christopher? You can spend the night in this cell or under heavy guard if you prefer to sleep elsewhere, or you can get out. It's your decision, but I will take my leave."

[Penny]

Chapter II

"Are we really going to die for a stupid flag?" Ragnar roared over the increasingly violent screams of the dying transport as it battered its way though the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Metal screamed as bulkheads buckled and superstructure tore away. Unsecured luggage clattered around as the ship continued to try to shake itself to pieces. Annika gripped one of the stantions and avoided being thrown of her feet by a sudden violent jolt that banged her against the steel hull paneling. Paneling she noted, that was growing alarmingly hot. The several thousand tons of steel that made up the Encomienda's hull was a considerable heat sink, but compared to millions of tons of onrushing atmosphere, not considerable enough.

"You are welcome to run for the escape pod," Annika commented sourly, trying not to clutch too desperately at her Jumpgate medallion.

"Oh sure, considering only our noble master can trigger the launch," Logan Christopher replied. The thief was crouched in an agony of indecision, clearly torn between the desire to run for the sole remaining escape pod and wanting to stay close to Orion, the only practical agent of salvation.

"Can you use you arts to save us witch?" Ragnar asked. Annika smiled tightly.

"I can pray for your soul," she offered tersely.

"Pray?! That is the best you can do?" Ragnar snapped, carefully suppressed fear adding an acid edge to his voice.

"Well yoga lessons would be a little impractical at the moment," she returned. There was a resounding crash and a sudden rush of air as something ripped apart forward. The vibration, grew significantly worse and air roared through the compartment, thick with the stink of burning metal and cooking insulation.

"Yoga?" Orion shouted as he stumbled out of the cargo bay, clutching the ceramsteel case that contained the ancient banner the Duke had given to the knight back on Gwyenneth tucked under his arm. Sir Pentecost's surcoat appeared to be smouldering the rushing air igniting and snuffing the flames like a guttering flame. Snarling the knight ripped away the burning fabric tossing it away before the rushing air ripped it from his hand.

"Let's say we get out of here before the Kurgan come back and kill us all, or we smash into the planet?" Logan whined.

[POOHEAD189]

Orion had a very clear view of the planet from where he stood, and most people would have found that to be quite alarming considering that it was before a section of the wall had bent apart from where it had been welded, looking almost like it was bending akin to paper when one didn't have another bookmark handy. Orion ducked down, the 'wind' if the atmospheric pressure could be labeled as such shot through the room like a lance. Everyone's ears suddenly popped noisily as the transport continued to hurtle into the atmosphere.

"That's the first good idea you've had Logan!" Orion cried over the ripping and roaring of the machine being picked apart.

"It's a rarity, I assure you!" Sister Annika yelled, trying to remain composed as the group of them hurtled like a missile towards the planet. She took Orion's offered hand and he pulled her closer to him at the back of the room, near the corridor of the cargo chamber. The next room over was the most stable part of the ship, Orion figured. Even if they couldn't make it to the escape pod, that was the place to be.

Ragnar clawed at ground, grabbing both tiles and table legs as he tried and yanked himself closer to them. Logan Christopher had already snaked his way over there, screaming in Orion's ear.

"The escape pod!" He screamed, pointing across the way. Orion nodded, turning toward the entryway to it. The pilot of the transport had managed to grab his mistress or servant, whoever the woman was, and was even then trying to sneak away into it, leaving the crew to die. When he saw Orion's gaze, he ushered the girl on. Orion couldn't hear what he said exactly but it seemed more like a slave driver giving an order rather than a lover or a husband.

The pilot whipped out a pistol and leveled it at Orion and Sister Annika, only to have the gun suddenly ripped from his grasp. Orion didn't ask if Annika did it, though the way she smiled he suspected as such. He smirked knowingly, and suddenly leaped at the pilot, the man trying to hide amongst the torn wiring of the ruined ship to escape. Orion grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and grabbing his pelvic region, he lifted the man over his head.

"No! Sir Knight you canno-"

Ragnar poked his head through the door just in time to gasp and duck as the man was flung by him. The pressure was so great, his body halted midway down the hallway and was sucked out into the room the companions had just occupied, flying into the atmosphere to die alone.

Ragnar laughed heartily, entering the corridor and closing the door behind him. Orion pushed Annika into the escape pod with the mysterious servant woman, and both Logan and Ragnar entered next. Just as Orion leaped in, the steel door Ragnar closed had been ripped off its hinges, and they were launched into the atmosphere of this new world, being flung to Pancreator knew where.
@Penny