[IC] The Sinful Stars

[Penny]

Annika had not ridden in an escape pod before, and she found little to recommend the experience. No sooner had they been violently thrust from the dying transport, the impact slamming all of them against the walls of the pod, than the deck bucked upwards under the power of the breaking thrusters. Annika was somewhat fortunate in that her fall was cushioned by Orion's body, though the knights muscled chest was scarcely less yielding than steel might have been. A slender hand grabbed her and hoisted her upwards with surprising strength, the pilots concubine had somehow managed to strap herself in and Annika took her help gladly getting the crash harness around her own shoulders. Logan Christopher, better and anticipating disaster than the rest of them had also managed to, more or less, keep his feet and was strapped in, though he seemed to be praying rather than offering aid. Annika supposed that as a member of the clergy she ought to have applauded that, but as someone in need of help she found her piety somewhat strained. Her instructors had liked to say that the Pancreator helped those who helped themselves, Annika preferred the way the al'Malik guardsmen back on Istkar put it. Praise the Pancreator and pass the ammuntion.

Alarms began to sound as the sickening sense of falling increased. Ragnar and Orion had managed to get to their feet now and though they looped the crash webbing around them, neither buckled themselves in completely. Annika did pray now, invoking the Pancreator to guide them to a safe landing and asking forgiveness for the use of her other, less holy arts. The crash webbing smashed downward into her shoulders as the final stages of the breaking thrusters fired, and then, with a shattering crash of rending steel, they hit. For a few seconds Annika's mind went blank, shocked out of coherent experience by her brain bouncing of the inside of her skull, then she was lucid again. There was hiss of invading steam and then a gush of water as the outside environment infiltrated the escape pod. Annika pulled free of her crash webbing without difficulty, it having been set for a larger person than her slight form and stepped across to the exit panel, slapping the manual release. There was a dull crump as the explosive charges in the lining of the door, designed to free a warped hatch, went off and the door flew from its hinges, water rushed in, almost but not quite knocking the priestess from her feet. Bright sunlight flooded the compartment, refracted into rainbow brilliance from the billowing steam hissing of the surface of the friction heated pod.

Annika stepped out onto the lip of the hatch and surveyed her surroundings. The pod had come down a hundred meters or so from an idyllic looking shore. Gentle surf lapped at the pod, hissing as it found high points on the hull that had not yet been quenched. Colorful coral spread out between the pod and the beach where strange twin headed trees rustled in the breeze like palms. The pod was only about a quater submerged having landed on the reef, smashing the coral beneath without quite punching through it. Around them were numerous dead fish with twin tails and flat leaf like profiles. Their skin had been blanched a pale pink by the heat of the pods decent. She turned and looked back into the pod, iris flaring to adjust to the interior lit mostly by emergency chemical lights. To her immense relief Orion was up and moving, helping the strange servant to get free of her own tangled restraints. Ragnar frustrated by Logan's lack of progress, grabbed the scraver by the neck and pitched him bodily out of the hatch to splash into the hip deep water. The pod shifted and began to tip backwards towards the deeper water on the far side of the reef.

"Go!" Orion shouted and handed the slave woman up to Annika who grabbed her by the wrist and tossed her into the water with as little ceremony as Ragnar had shown Logan. The Vuldruk ripped a survival pod away from the wall and clambered up through the hatch a heartbeat ahead of Orion. The Priestess the Knight and the Reaver stepped off onto the coral shelf a moment before the pod toppled backwards into the deep water beyond the fringe of the reef, hissing and spitting as it filled with water and began to sink out of sight. Overhead large birds began to circle and caw, attracted by the dead fish.

"Well," Annika said, taking the emergency pod from Ragnar and withdrawing the auto-inflalting raft.

"At least wherever we are has nice beaches..."

[POOHEAD189]

Orion's head throbbed, but he didn't let it show. The back and forth of the intensity and lack of pressure had hit him like a mace, not to mention the subsequent crash landing. He felt the escape pod tipping, his foot sinking into the depths before he took it off and stood steadily on the reef. He might have been wary of beasts in the water had it been murky, but it was beautiful and clear as day. Colorful fish and strange, shelled squid-like creatures swam lazily, coming back after the huge disturbance had scared them off. He even saw a large, serpentine reptile. Fully twice as large as a man with needle teeth, it seemed to pay them little heed as it traveled past them in search of smaller prey. He hoped it wasn't a baby.

Orion was the last on the raft, the others wet and shaken but otherwise unhurt. Ragnar's hands were scraped and bloodied, but most of the grime and crimson had been washed away by the seawater. Logan Christopher seemed to hold no illusions save even darker ones than their current situation. He was a man that saw dangers lurking where none were. Such men often defeated themselves in the end, Orion Pentecost thought to himself.

"The beaches are lovely," Orion replied to Annika, pushing a fallen fringe of his hair out of his eyes as he pushed the raft off the reef. "If I had to guess we're on Aragon." He had known much of the flight plan, expecting the ship to pass by the system on the way to Nowhere. The last reports of the world were of invasion by the Kurgan Caliphate. It didn't look like the world was under seige, but then again they were likely far from any battle for civilization. "But I could be wrong."

"This is Aragon." The servant woman confirmed, and now the sun was upon her, Orion saw she was a raven haired woman of classical beauty, even garbed in such rags. She seemed more confident now as well, though that could easily be because she was no longer on a crashing ship. Whereas Orion was aware of her beauty, Logan and Ragnar were captivated by it. She continued, pulling back a wave of her cascading hair, revealing emerald eyes. "We are likely in the Placido Ocean Islands. A few days sailing north and we'll likely find the nearest spaceport at Princess Isabella's Province."

"You're a native of the world?" Logan asked, clearly wishing for her attention with such an obvious question.

"Yes." She admitted, though she bit her lip, hesitant to speak without any vageries. "I grew up on Aragon, but I left it a year ago, stolen by raiders. I was... trying to get back home."

"How? The transport ship was passing Aragon."

"It was..." She murmured. Orion understood after taking a moment to absorb her words.

"You crashed the ship." Orion said, causing everyone's gaze to whip in her direction. She looked around, stuck between fear and the bravado of telling them off.

"Yes!" She admitted. Her next words were venomous. "I had to make it home. I had to get away from that greedy pigshit of a man! I have had to endure utter humiliation at multiple people's hands the past year. I would have done anything to make it back home..." The fires of her confession died down, and she bowed her head. "I didn't wish to harm any of you. I am sorry."

Orion looked at Annika, and then back at the woman. "Well, we've a confessor if you need penitence. For now let's make it to land. We can discuss matters later."

"There should be a village with accommodations close, if we're where I believe we are." She replied, as if the very notion was her attempt at paying them back so they would not seek to harm her. Ragnar and Logan smiled brightly, at both her and the idea of finding something to sleep on or ale to drink.

"What's your name?" Orion asked her.

She raised her head, looking him in the eyes like a Queen might answer a fellow monarch at negotiation. "I am Filenia."
@Penny

[Penny]

Annika exchanged a look with Orion though Filenia ignored the confessor as she might any minor servant. The last vestiges of her dark twin flashed with irritation before her training took over and she picked up one of the plastic paddle and began to help Ragnar and Logan drive the raft towards the beach. The thief and the priestess together were barely able to keep the stroke with the Vuldrok but fortunately the slight curve wasn't a large detriment to reaching the shore. Annika considered for a moment how strange it was that they had lost virtually nothing in the crash. As an Estakonic cleric she was expected to carry everything she owned and beg for her supper, Ragnar didn't own anything she was aware of other than weapons and armor, Logan's possession were few, illegal and mostly hidden within folds of his clothing. Only Orion had any real luggage and the majority of that had been the sacred banner he was charged to deliver. She hoped that the strange fact was a good omen of some kind, perhaps a moral from the Omega Gospel, but for the moment she couldn't think of it.

"We certainly picked a nice spot to crash," Logan observed as they reached the shallows and Ragnar dropped his oar and jumped into the thigh deep water. Annika waited a moment longer then hiked up her skirts and followed suit, feeling the warm sand between her toes beneath the cool clear water. Filenia extended her arms to Orion imperiously. The knight looked from the woman to the case, repleate with its seals and gold filigree.

"I got it," Logan said, a little too eagerly and snatched up the case, leaving Orion to lift Filenia in his arms and step into the water, carrying the woman to the shore. By the time they reached the fringe of beach where sear looking grass swept down out of groves of tended fruit trees the had already been noticed. From the northern spur of the bay a dozen horsemen were racing towards them, colorful pennons snapping from laser lances chased with heraldic designs. Ragnar growled and reached for his heavy pistol, thumbing back the hammer with one of his massive hands. Annika touched his hand to prevent any precipitous action.

"These are not our enemies," she said in Vuldrok, happy to see a slight flash of worry from Filenia at her use of the barbaric tongue. Of course a Hazat would be amazed at such a thing, they were a provincial house compared to the learned and cosmopolitan al'Malik Annika thought accidly.

"Says you," Ragnar rumbled, but he relented and tucked the weapon away. The horsemen were only a dozen meters away now, their horses slowing to a trot. None of them were leveling their lances, though their faces were closed even if not exactly hostile.

"It might be better if you didn't tell them who I am," Filenia whispered urgently. Ragnar shot Annika an 'I told you so' look a moment before the leader of the group, a handsome young man, wearing armor and carrying a sword and pistol on a tooled leather weapons belt, swung from his saddle. The nobleman's spurs clinked as he stepped away from his horse, keeping his weapons hand clear. He glanced from Ragnar to Orion, taking in Annika's ecclesiastical garb. He seemed wary, thought not quite overtly hostile.

"Ho, strangers," he called in a thick Arogonese accent, "what brings you to my fathers duchy?"

[POOHEAD189]

"I am Orion Pentecost." He declared himself to the outriders, and even wet and ragged he looked a born cavalier. His announcement kept Ragnar from fully hefting his axe threateningly. Barbarian or not, he was sworn to serve Orion and follow his example. "I am scion of house Hawkwood and a Questing Knight of the Realm. I am nephew to Baron Clement of Gwynneth, servant of Duke William Rochfort of the same."

Filenia peeked through her cowl at Orion, appraising him at that announcement. The sun gleamed on his wet head of hair, making him seem brilliant even whilst being beaten and tired. Orion did not even gesture to his troupe behind him. "These are my courtiers and companions. We've been shipwrecked on your world as we made our way to Nowhere on a pilgrimage. You've a choice, sir. You can leave us to our fates here or allow us to take refuge with you, for we have little money."

"If you are who you say you are, show us proof." The leader spake, tossing his reins a bit so his steed would toss its head challengingly. He was young and dashing, but obviously used to being the one to spew out titles. Orion tore a bit of his cloak off his hard left pectoral, revealing his armor and Hawkwood crest, made of gilded steel and brass to denote his status. It shined in the sun brightly.

"I see...well, you may accompany us." The Outrider said, using one syllable too many on 'accompany.' "I am Cleto, a nephew myself to Duke Placedo. I suspect he will wish to you aid you. I doubt he would harm someone of House Hawkwood. He wishes for your houses favor." His eyes ran over the others, still suspicious despite the proof. None of the others have yet to speak. "Favor is currency on Aragon, you will find. Come."

He turned his horse, controlling the beast skillfully. His men behind him followed suit. Orion knew they hadn't the room to let any of them ride with them, so he was satisfied when they simply walked at a slow canter.

"I've forgotten you have so many titles." Annika whispered playfully.

"I don't need to use them often." Orion whispered back, the barest hint of a smile on his face. In typical Hawkwood fashion, it was gone a moment later and he watched his surroundings, wary as always. "Let's hope it doesn't lead us to a dungeon."

"I predict a warm welcome." Annika intoned, making a sign with her hands that was either meaningfully arcane or nonsense meant to supplicate those who watched to calm them (or pull his leg). Orion couldn't tell sometimes.

[Penny]

The house Duke Placedo, the summer house, as Annika was later to learn, was an impressive place. It reared up before them atop a hill, surrounded on all sides by groves of orange trees and carefully tended grape vines. Peasants toiled both in the orchards and tending herds or large creatures with thick wooly pelts with which Annika was not familiar. There was no central village as these were serfs of the estate rather than town folk, though there was a wine press and a water mill as well as several other communal outbuildings mostly clustered along a small stream that wound its way down to the bay the house overlooked. The house itself was surrounded by a wall of worked stone, though the wall was somewhat lower on the hill than the house so as not to obstruct its view of the scenic bay beyond, the structure itself was of warm stone with many wings, each ending in a large rounded turret and roofed with tile of a glazed terracotta. Annika didn't doubt that the house was defensible, being located on a hill that formed a slight promontory overlooking the bay and approachable only via a long winding track paved with stone. Generations of horses had worn a slight declivity in the track that made it feel narrower than it was, though attacking enemies trying to run up hill towards the walls would have found the place narrow enough in truth.

Cleo his guard somewhat lowered, appeared to be talking enthusiastically about hawking with Orion, a topic in which Orion was either interested or at least knowledgeable enough to fake interest for the Hazat's benefit. None of Cleo's companions appeared to be taking much of an interest in their strange guests, other than to occasionally glare at Ragnar who kept a look of haughty contempt on his brutish features. Only one of them appeared to be of Cleo's rank, a younger cousin from what Annika had overheard and he appeared to be keeping his distance from the new comers. The others were probably minor nobility, the kind of hangers own who inevitably attached themselves to their betters.

"Why don't you want them to know who you are?" Annika asked Filenia as they approached the gates of the wall. The gates were made of iron wood and sported a massive symbol of House Hazat. The stone towers flanking it were low and ancient in construction, though the stubby barrels of automatic machine guns projecting from the loopholes suggested that they had their uses in modern times also.

"None of your business priest," Filenia hissed in arrogant disgust at having been addressed by a lowly member of the clergy.

"Ah but it is my business, as Sir Pentecost's confessor it is my business to shield his soul from unwholesome influences, which might include you," she responded calmly. Filenia's face darkened with rage but she obviously didn't want to risk a scene here an now.

"I will speak to Sir Orion about it and not his lap dog," she snapped, walking away from the priestess before Annika could press her with further questions.

[POOHEAD189]

Seeing the small estate from afar was one thing, but being within its walls was an entirely different experience for Orion. He found the architecture interesting, warm in color and carved to depict great heroes of old Aragon mixed with heathen folk gods and common farm animals in various activities. Luckily nonsexual activities. The sweeping scope and flair reminded him of Al-Marik or even Kurgan architecture in a fashion. No wonder the Duke wished for Hawkwood favor. There was no real prevalent problem with racism among the various humans in the known worlds, but anything foreign or foreign 'enough' was deemed closer to heresy than faithful purity.

The place was small and though the courtiers and servants were a farcry from Orion's dear uncle's estate, they still filled the inner palace walls with activity, carrying baskets of food and materials across the ashlar floor, a woman carrying freshly cleaned sheets up the forebuilding. Down the central stairway came the Duke, though not in the way Orion expected. The man was olive skinned, with dark curls now tinged with grey, as was his beard. Robes of red and yellow wrapped his form in the fashion of a local monarch. Oddly, he was carried on a small throne, and upon closer inspection Orion saw he was missing a leg. Orion was glad to see it didn't marr his personality or cheer.

"Welcome, my friends." The duke made a grand, sweeping gesture, as if to claim that all that was his was theirs as well. He studied each of them carefully, a glint of age and intelligence behind his smiling visage. "Welcome, weary travelers. I pains me to hear of your trials and tribulations upon your pilgrim road. You must be famished and understandably tired."

"That we are, my Lord." Orion replied, bowing in polite submission to the master of the house. In contrast, Ragnar spat on the ground idly. Not out of animosity, he merely had something in his mouth. Logan gave a less courtly but equally submissive bow, unused to such things.

The pleasantries lasted for far too long in Orion's eyes, but eventually they were allowed into the great hall. Sturdy trusses made of local stone, the bases carved as charging horses filled the vast room as half a dozen servants walked to and fro with food for dinner, though that was some hours away yet. The castellan or steward of the house greeted them at the foyer of the great chamber. He had a smile some might find pleasant and others might find a bit too menacing with his sharp facial hair.

"Welcome. I am Aldego Shazrin, a servant of the Duke. I am here to take you to your wing of the estate. Please, follow me."

[Penny]

Annika gazed around the manor house as they were escorted to the guest wing. It was a handsome place, made of warm stone with russet accents. Here and there the walk ways open up to reveal lush carefully tended gardens centered on elaborate fountains, some of men on horseback, others of modestly clad women who might have either been saints or mythological figures. Soft floral scents wafted from carefully tended beds of roses, and the subtle perfume of orange trees and purple profusions of bougainvillea blossoms lay heavy on the air. Servants and other members of the extended family of the duke were glanced from time to time, a lady reading from a book of hours by a portico, a gardener tending to some pruning, but it seemed the guest wing itself was empty. Like previous areas they had visited this two was scentered around an open air garden, the entrance way opening onto the garden which was surrounded on three sides by the enclosing structure. Carved balustrades of dark polished wood, separated the raised wings from the garden proper, allowing anyone resting on one of the many benches a view of the garden while permitting them to remain in the shade. To Annika, raised in the deserts of Istkar it seemed very lush, though there might be a slight tinge of aridity to the air to any who had not grown up in so extreme an environment.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable, there are servants here to fetch whatever you should desire. The Duke will expect your for the feast at Vespers, that is three hours hence, I will have servants fetch you when the time is right," Aldego said in his polished Hazat accent. Annika was slightly surprised by the use of the canonical hour.

"The Duke is a devout man then?" she inquired. Aldego immediately stiffened.

"All Hazat are faithful servants of the Church," he declared loftily.

"We here on Aragon have not forgotten our duty to the Pancreator and his holy mission," Aldego added. Annika wasn't sure whether the veiled slight was directed at her or at Orion as a member of the now reigning House of Hawkwood though she supposed it didn't much matter.

"To that end, would you like me to escort you to the chapel, the proper place of the clergy?" he added. Annika smiled a wintery smile.

"As a layman Sieur Shazrin, you cannot be expected to know this, but those of my order find our communion with the Pancreator wherever we go," she made a guesture to the beautiful garden.

"This shall serve just fine as a chapel for me," she said with a serene guesture.

"And if I may offer one so faithful in the Pancreator's service some advice Sieur, a layman ought not presume to know the 'proper' place for a member of the clergy," she advised, enjoying the way the servants face darkened as she spoke.

"There are those who would consider such a thing improper, possibly even heretical," she added sweetly. Shazrin opened his mouth to retort but glanced at Orion and clearly thought better of it. Instead he bowed and retreated back into the house proper.

"Charming fellow," she observed, and Ragnar guffawed as he leaned forward his meaty fists encircling the ballistrade.

"You should have blasted him with your magic, jumped up bondsman," he snickered in his own tongue.

"Among my people its considered rude to break every bone in a mans body," she replied in Vuldruk, "the host might take offense after all."

[POOHEAD189]

Orion's attempts at exploring the estate's grounds didn't amount to much. He had eyes on him wherever he went, and decided after a few minutes outside of their 'quarters' that he would stick with his companions. Orion stepped in to see Filenia having disappeared. Annika was in meditation, and he gave a curious glance at Ragnar who shrugged his burly shoulders, the Vuldrok going back to picking his teeth in peace. The thief, Christopher, looked out at the villa's gardens, seemingly lost in thought. Orion decided Filenia's whereabouts were none of his business, and he strode within again, stripping off his armor and placing it beside the door of the bathing area.

"What are you doing?" Ragnar asked.

"Getting clean."

"Pfah! You're soft folk." He derided as Orion stepped in and closed the door, ignoring the brute.

Orion had not relaxed within a hot shower in months, and the grime and tension of hard fought battles washed away from his muscled body, the hair treatment scented of lavender. He didn't really consider appearance or cleanliness as something nearly as important as impeccable character, and he wasn't a stranger of a lack of hygiene. But Knights were trained in courtly etiquette as well as combat, and he would make a good impression. Hands running through his veritable mane, he marveled at how long his hair had gotten ever since he left the Baron's service and teamed up with Annika.

Stepping out, he dried off with the towel and slid on his trousers, buckling them up and and clearing his throat as he thought of where they still needed to go to. They needed a ship and a few weeks and they would be at Nowhere. Maybe even in a matter of days in the right shipping lane. Tonight, he was just looking for some rest and food. Orion exited the restroom, unclad from the waist up, his hair still wetted lightly.

"Can you help me with my armor?" Orion asked, clearly referring to Annika despite Ragnar getting up. One look at the Vuldrok's caked fingers had Orion glaring.

"Not you."
@Penny

[Penny]

Annika and Orion retired behind a screen of artfully carved lattice which partitioned the large living space into several smaller sections. The knight took a seat on a settee and Annika opened one of the embossed cases which had been provided by the duke. Inside was a gambeson quartered in blue and white and embroided with a hawk motif in golden thread. Training as a lady of the al'Malik court included assisting a man into armor and she unfastened the claps across the front and then lifted the armored coat by each shoulder allowing Orion to slip his arms into it. As he fastened the coat she lifted his ceramsteel breastplate.

"Looks a little shopworn compared to the fancy new coat," she observed wryly. The breastplate was scared and scraped with blade strikes and gun shots, the paint peeled and burned where it had turned aside laser strikes. Orion had made some effort to repair his armor but there was only so much that could be done without the services of an artificer. Such master armorers were rare though, come to think of it, the Duke probably had an armor master who would be able to restore the battle scarred armor.

"I suppose our host didn't have time to run me up a new dress for the ball," he quipped. Annika smirked, thinking of the new robes that had been left for her in her own quarters. She lifted the back plate of the armor and fitted it to Orion's back, moving around in front to deftly pull the straps tight before lifting the front plate and slipping it into place.

"Do you have any idea what 'Filenia' is up to? I sense she is hiding something, but that dosen't exactly require telepathy."