POOHEAD189

The Sinful Stars

The Knight sat opposite to her as the crew began to prepare for their departure. He wasn't certain if she was keeping something from him, but in the end it didn't matter. A Confessor was what he needed, and she was nothing if not willing. "Very good sister." He said, placing his weaponry on the seat beside him in easy reach. Unless he misread her and she worked for a secret occult order, he likely didn't need to worry about her taking any of his weapons for personal use during the flight.

The runt shuttle lifted off in short order, thrumming as if alive and rising into the sky with only a short strain before they were off, flying northwest and steadily gaining speed. They would make their arrival before noon on the morrow. He saw Annika resting her head, and he took a cue from her and did the same. He'd need sleep to survive long enough to curse the Baron's name.

His hand coiled into a fist at his blasphemous thinking, and Sister Annika would likely notice and increased frequency in his breathing as he berated himself for his thinking. The Baron was his master by divine mandate, whether he liked it or not. To question him was to go against his Knightly code, and as the shuttle reached the coastline, he wondered just how far he would fall if he continued to survive these missions. Perhaps it was better to die with his soul intact rather than live and be damned.

The flight was relatively uneventful. Their arrival was the antithesis of that lull in time, as Orion would hear clamor in the front of the shuttle for a brief interval just prior to a flashing red light that awoke anyone in the back who was asleep. Suddenly, there was a depressurization and Orion's ear's popped painfully. He could barely hear the muted warning by the pilot of Vuldrok Raiders.

There was a prevalent juxtaposition between the Priestess and the Knight as they both went about preparing without delay, Orion checking his weapons as Sister Annika need only to stand at attention. "Combat landing!?" Orion yelled over the noise of the air. In his squawker, he would hear the pilot's reply.

"I'm not landing. Combat drop."

Sister Annika cursed, but Orion simply steeled himself and pumped his shotgun loudly with one, strong hand. The other grabbed a landing suit to prepare himself.
@Penny

The Sinful Stars

Orion's cybernetic eye scanned the surroundings for a sidearm in the gloom, even though his "pupil" followed suit with the other and simply looked at the corpse splayed before the statue. Though his mind was on more than the dead man in front of them. He considered her words on her order, and realized if she was telling the truth then he was quite glad to have her along. He had always been accused of being an individualist. If such was true, another would be most welcome. It didn't hurt that her attitude was endearing so far.

"I suppose you're likely used to bad news, judging by the Bishop laying into you. So I'll be forthright." The Knight looked behind them to make certain no one was threatening their position, and he unholstered his slug-loaded shotgun to carry at the ready as they walked together, making their way toward the shipyard on this fine night. Once they were relatively alone, he glanced up at the stars. "You've no doubt heard of William Rochfort, the Duke of Tolth."

It was a name anyone with any sort of outside knowledge had heard stories of. The contradictory mad mystic who also happened to be one of the most conservative members of the church. "The very one who commanded the Inquisition on Tolth and slaughtered untold thousands from sheer paranoia. Even the church did not sanction his 'purge' after he began to target citizens at random. It's why I speak on it so blatantly, though I have a suspicion that the Baron and the Bishop don't heavily disagree with his methods in private company. But it's not him we're after."

The shipyard rose into view, junkers and starships rose and fell with loud air whooshing in the distance. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Not for the first time did Orion lament that one day very soon, the sun would no longer rise over this world. "His purge killed many who weren't pagans or rebels, but the brutal treatment did incite rebellion in those that were there. We're to go and kill the heretics and put a stop to their operations."

His understatement at the monumental task he just confessed to was likely not lost on the Priestess. The Knight slung his shotgun back into place, and he turned and looked at her to gauge her reaction as they entered the hanger, halting in the line for the facial recognition to get their passports. The Baron would have sent in their transcripts the moment their audience with the Bishop had been concluded. He seemed hesitant to continue, hoping she realized that there was no way to win in this situation. Either they died in the service of a madman, or they achieved victory and aided in his mad purge.

He spoke to her in a hushed tone. "Sister, if you don't wish to come with me, I won't say anything if you were to get lost in the crowds."

A line of light ran across his face, and his identification splayed across the screen above him. They were to take a "Runt Shuttle" across the planet and arrive before the next night, from the information gleamed on the screen.
@Penny

The Sinful Stars

Orion's face when their eyes first met was unreadable, save for some curiosity. He hadn't known what to expect from an Eskatonic Priestess, but this exotic woman was certainly not it. Judging by the Bishop's words, it seemed she was in a similar position as her in her respective order. Hopefully that meant they could have an understanding and work together. Most priests he had met had either been bumptious and insufferable, or were kind but far too meek to be of use as a Confessor.

He didn't get either impression from her, which was refreshing. At her introduction once they left the Bishop, he placed a hand to his chest. It looked as hard and solid from his build as it did from the armor he wore. "Sir Orion Pentecost-" Abruptly he was cut off from further introduction due to the acolyte that had appeared to throw his weight around some more at the expense of Sister Annika. He almost felt as if he would threaten the acolyte and deal with the consequences later, but he didn't need to.

She surprised him at turning around and beating off the young priest with her mere presence, and he knew from that moment that this wouldn't be a boring journey. She turned from menacing as a cobra to the embarrassment of one of the true flock once more so quickly, Orion had to blink. "No that's, uh- That's quite alright sister." He promised. It was at that moment when there were no distractions or yelling Lords that he realized she wasn't merely exotic, but beautiful in strange way. He cleared his throat, unable to keep a soft grin on his face. His words didn't match his look, as hammered into him as his drills with the sword and gun. "I apologize if I take up your time from more worthy endeavors."

He looked at the stain glass windows one last time, drinking in the beauty before indicating they should go. No one was watching them at the moment, but he didn't doubt more priests like the one she had driven off would come to ask them their business. There was a clear glint in his eyes that showed his concern, and he began to walk past the next set of pews. "I must confess I don't know much of the Eskatonic order." He told her, one hand on the back of her shoulder as they made it into the narthex of the chapel. "Other than what I've been told, and I don't have a doubt most of that is...less than sincere."

They found themselves on the simple streets of the Clement Barony, always a stark contrast to the ornate buildings that cropped in a circle to dominate the landscape. "As I was saying before the youth appeared, I'm Orion Pentecost. Call me Orion, Sister. Or Pentecost, if you want. It would not only be prudent, but I can go for a casual relationship with you. Even for a Hawkwood, the pomp can be a bit tiring I admit. We'll have far more pressing things to worry about than titles where we're to go."
@Penny

The Sinful Stars

Shifting to outside the Chapel, the Knight had been told to halt before the door and had been standing there for minutes. He could not hear any voices through the thick door, and realigned his thoughts before the time had come to enter. He wondered why the Pancreator had destined him to be in such a place at such a time, and though in his darker thoughts he fumed against his superiors, he wondered if he did indeed deserve to be here, awaiting his doom yet again? Perhaps he had been a barbarian in his past life.

He realized he had been gazing into a distant torch when a priest smiled and brought him out of his reverie. "To stare into the light until one becomes the light. I have done it many times." He said, blonde beard moving as he changed expression to a more somber air. Joy was fleeting in this age of the universe, even in God's home. "The Lord bishop is ready for you. Be honest and uphold your truth and oaths as a Knight, sir."

The armored Knight was brought into the room by a boy. Orion wasn't particularly old himself, still a few years shy of thirty, but he must have been close to twice this neophyte's age. When he gained a good look at the Bishop, he knew the boy also had to be a quarter of his holiness's weight. A shrill voice filled the air as he saw a woman being scolded, much as he had been an hour previously. How one so putrid could be a voice of the Pancreator in this province, Orion couldn't know. He almost seemed worse than the Baron, and that was a low bar he was beginning to realize.

Don't think that way, or you'll be in more trouble than you're already in, he scolded himself silently.

"Ah, the Knight in question. Come forward, sir," The Bishop said, waving a fat hand. Orion did as he was bid, only giving a small glance at the two in audience. There was a priest there with much the same disdain as the Bishop, and someone who was very clearly a woman, though he couldn't see very well behind her hood and exotic trappings. He halted before the Bishop and knelt. Cranmer waved him up impatiently. "Come, come, do not bore me with ceremony. You're Orion Pentecost, correct?"

"Yes, Lord Bishop."

"You must be, I see the eye you so hereticaly planted in your skull. And you have been dispatched with bringing peace to Tolth through this difficult and rebellious time, have you not?"

"Yes, Lord Bishop." He repeated in a manner that showed he was used to speaking in such a way. His tone wasn't tired, but almost automated in pitch.

Cranmer giggled, impishly cruel. "You're a maverick I hear, Pentecost. Were it up to me, you would have been burned and thrown into the pit by your last mission. But your Baron still has use of you. Fortune and blessing favors you then, for I too have someone who only slightly more use alive than dead. For now, at least. Sister Annika shall be your Confessor, knave. I could think of no one better for you than an Estakonic. You deserve one another."

He clapped his pillow-like hands, giving off wet smacks that indicated Annika approach as well. Orion wasn't certain of what to make of this information as the woman came to stand beside him. Orion was a very by-the-book Knight except for in one or two areas of his career. Those areas just happened to have a large spotlight placed upon them. He had heard wild accusations and speculations of the Estakonic order and wondered if any of the rumors were true.

He turned to her, one eye midnight blue and the other a silver grey amid a heavy scar, glinting in the light.
@Penny

What’s your go-to quarantine hobby?

Going to work :(

@Penny

Same

The Sinful Stars

The Halls of Forbearance were illuminated by flickering flames, set amid the halls to give a timeless and looming aspect. One could not look up to see the ceiling, as if you walked through time itself. The cries of lamentation and the heavy breaths of struggling squires in mock combat led to the ambience well enough. Orion didn't turn to look at any of them, only glancing when he thought he saw a familiar face.

The stone corridors faded behind him as he entered the central chamber, wide in bearing and even dimmer save for the raised council seating, fully a dozen feet taller than Orion. He lifted his eyes to the Baron and his lower Baronets and upper Knights who sat in a semicircle, clad in resplendent robes and armor, depending on their rank and function. Even in the dark, Orion's cybernetic eye could make out every pock mark and crease on Clement Hawkwood's face, but he dared not say. His decision to be so armed had only further enraged the Baron, who saw him as a threat to his autonomy for various reasons Orion could not fathom.

"Orion Pentecost." Clement spake, standing from his chair and raising his arms, the robes clad to him looking as vast wings. For all of his faults, he had a powerful voice, and Orion was merely his servant. "You have been summoned before this council to answer for your crimes at Paltrow this past sun season. Your favor by your late aunt can no longer keep you within the order. Fail us again and you will find yourself exiled, or worse."

"Yes, my lord." Orion repled, kneeling before the nobility. The movement portrayed his bullet-proof shield and broadsword, along with the shotgun splayed along his back. A few murmurs began to sir, and Clement's next words had the briefest fit of anger. "Why do you come amongst us so armed? Do you seek to despoil this council even further, knave? Do you not even wish to hear of your sentencing, or are you too far gone that you care not!?" He didn't even wait for a response. "Answer, cur!"

The Hawkwood Knight took to his feet, and though he was far below them, he seemed tall as he stood there along in the dark of the floor. "Apologies, my lord. I simply believed you would send me on another mission post-haste, and sought to be better prepared to serve you."

"Never presume to know our intentions, fool!" Clement spat. "And your allying with the Pagans at Paltrow can be blamed for your next assignment."

"I was tasked with the safeguarding of the city, my lord. The pagans wished the same. I only did as I was bid with the tools the Pancreator and yourself had left me."

"I, nor our God did not permit you to shame this great house or faith!" He screeched, his forceful voice having lost all potency of decency and devolved into a dread anger. "You presume, Pentecost! Presumption of wills above your own is unbecoming of a Knight who serves. Do you not know the meaning of Knight from old Urth? It is one who serves, and you will go and serve me faithfully once again, and for the last time if you do not curb your heathen instincts. Now, go forth and fetch yourself what supplies you need and find a Confessor. You above all need one. Go! Before I bound you here and now and redistribute your weapons and armor to one more worthy. A slave-boy perhaps, or a whore. No go!"

He took the berating in stride, knowing his place despite the Baron's insistence he did not. His life had taken a turn for the strange every since he had arrived on Gwynneth. He knew he would die here, or worse, lose his rank. He knew now what trap Clement had lain for him. He had not told him of his assignment, and yet he dismissed him. Either way, he was in the wrong. Steeling himself, he asked. "And where do I go to serve you?"

Less than an hour later, Orion stepped out of the hall, tattered cloak changed into a well tailored once of red and gold filigree. He was to arrive at Tolth on the morrow, but for now he needed to visit the Bishop. A Confessor was what he was lacking, and thought he didn't think he needed one, he would not disobey his lord.
@Penny

The Witcher: Under the Shadow

No worries, people!

With this plague, finishing my novella, and work in general, we can take a little longer to update.

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

If other Edmon Fielders were there, they would have told him that nothing comes from getting in the affairs of Aes Sedai. That Mave had somehow bewitched him into leaving his home. His friends would have claimed he was as awkward as a sheared sheep around her. But once she thanked him and pressed her lips to his cheek, he suddenly realized all three might be true, but he wasn't entirely against the ideas.

Light, he was going insane. Probably because he just killed a Darkspawn bear handed.

"Where would we go?" He asked her, only knowing the city layout as well as 'huge palace on the left' and 'spire on the right.' Was Illian even safe enough to remain in, anymore? He could tell despite the authority Mave exuded, someone so young still couldn't betray the lack of surety on her face. Her towel bared form didn't help either.

"We'll figure it out as we go, but we must go."

He didn't need to be told twice, and they fled the premises before the hour was out, Mave clothed and Ali with his staff as they entered the streets and took the first boat upon the canal that they could find. It wasn't as amorous as one might think, having just barely escaped death. But it was calming, and let them get their heads straight.

They passed below bridges, both large and small, Human and Ogier-made. The latter looked as if they had grown stone organically to reach across the canal. He had never seen anything like it before, nor the vast man-made bridges. His eyes were glued to the architecture, and the buildings beyond.

They passed the perfume quarter on the outskirts, smelling of hemp, pitch, and harbor mud, before sweeping inwards toward the large buildings. It was there that they docked, and Ali played the gentleman, helping Mave step off the longboat and onto the stonework for the benefit of the rowman. Then again, he recalled he played that role even when they weren't impressing upon someone.

A gleeman played on the street corner, juggling four knives as he stood upon one foot while a dazzled crowd watched. Their hair shoulder length, some men with powerful shoulders. It surprised Ali to see outlanders as well, or who he guessed were outlanders. Some wore wide-brimmed hats while others had oddly embroidered linen or wool tops. The beak-like noses of others showed Saldean ancestry.

"Hunters of the Horn," Mave breathed.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅 & 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉

Well, Harun would give Raghba Shahir one thing. It certainly knew how to throw a party.

The sun beat down on the immaculate city, its towering spires and multicolored ribbons and tabards served as the only respite in its wake. Announcing the beginning of the festivities were ungulating cries and small prayers to Hayashim before the cornucopia of extravagant pleasures and haughty talk commenced. It happened so quickly and with such gusto that Harun did not know exactly what to do.

Having grown up on the streets of Il-Shamabad, Harun wasn't used to vast celebration. The rulers there were far more militaristic and utilitarian in manner. The city guards roamed the streets just as the thugs did, and he had grown quite a collection of scars escaping imprisonment before he had seen fifteen summers. As such, he'd put more men in the ground rather than women in their bed, an old friend once said. He wasn't exactly a people person, he guessed. But he was young and strong, and he wasn't above a good party. He actually missed his old city, but killing an Emir was generally frowned upon so he fled to the only city larger and richer than the last.

He poked his head around the street corner, past the marketplace where merchants of every race and garb were selling their wares with what could only be described as a desperation. In the bath houses, he saw scantily clad women rubbing the shoulders of corsairs and courtiers of the sultan. One ebony pirate was so rotund, his stomach seemed to balloon outward into the water with no sign of curving backward. Across the center, dancing girls spun veil weaves as their bodies leaped and spun teasingly.

They were pretty, but past them and a crowd of fish wives, he saw a woman that would make any man turn twice. A raven haired beauty that had him attempting to peek over the crowd to gain a better look.

He decided to step out into the Bazaar from the alley, eyes locked onto the woman just as a rumble betrayed the monstrous creature about to step on him. His heart leapt into his mouth when an Elephant turned a corner and nearly crushed him, a mustachioed Satrap atop the beast, sneering. "Out of the way, boy!" He spat, uncoiling a whip and swapping at Harun. It was all the street rat could do to keep himself from being smooshed, and expertly he caught the whip on his forearm.

"That's a new record." Harun replied, yanking the whip out of the Satrap's hands with a muscled tug. You would think he would have learned not to piss off powerful people. His next remark was casual. "Two seconds and I can already tell you're a huge bitch."

Needless to say, he had a problem with authority.

The Witcher: Under the Shadow

Sooooooo, uhhhhhh

How is isolation treating everyone?

@Stormflyx

But srsly, im ok atm. How is everyone else?