18+ Exodus

"Alright, I guess we should go see of they're friendly or not. I'll keep my hand near my daggers though. There's no point in trusting exiles."

Jaryk began to descend the rock formation, and Maric hesitated before following behind. He wasn't enthusiastic about working with exiles, especially new ones. They were likely dangerous in some form, and Maric knew that a situation like this warranted caution. With his hand around the grip of his sheathed sword, he began to make his way down the rocky outcropping. Stepping carefully and slowly.

Suddenly, a distant screech rang through the air, and Maric froze. "Furies.." he cursed under his breath, before turning towards Jaryk. "Get down!" Maric immediately slid into cover behind a cluster of boulders, his eyes fixed on the grey sky above. More screeches and screams, this time closer and louder than before. He had been in the Outlands long enough to recognize the cries of Furies, vicious winged creatures which reigned the skies. He had nearly been killed by a swarm a few days back while crossing a forest clearing. He had managed to escape into the treeline, but not before one of the beasts had left its mark in his breastplate.

A black silhouette tore through the sky just above him, followed swiftly by several more. Maric warily lifted his head to get a better look of the creatures as they began to circle the new exiles, who were completely exposed in the open field. "Damn it.." he muttered, knowing that their chances of survival were now slim.

An ear piercing scream filled the air and Maric turned just in time to see a flash of grey before he was thrown from the rocky outcropping. He was barely able to register what had happened before he slammed against the ground, knocking the air from his lungs and sending pain exploding across his body. For a moment he laid there, choking and gasping for breath until air once more filled his lungs. With a grimace, he pulled himself to his feet, letting out a pained grunt as he stood and unsheathed his sword. His entire body was wracked with pain, but he couldn't think of that now, not with the creature that lay before him.

The fury let out a menacing snarl, saliva dripping from its maw of yellowed teeth as it began to circle Maric. The knight furrowed his brow, clutching his sword tightly as he began to think of how to approach the situation. He glanced around him, taking in his surroundings and seeing how he could use it to his advantage. They were in the treeline just before the open field, and with the tall trees all around the fury wouldn't be able to fly away or use its wings to its advantage. By knocking Maric from the outcropping, the beast had trapped itself. The fury would have to fight on ground level, giving Maric a distinct advantage.

Suddenly the beast charged, letting out a screech as it began to bound towards Maric. Maric raised his shield and braced himself, holding his sword at the ready as the fury quickly closed the gap between them.

Maric weaved to the right at the last second, narrowly dodging the charge before following up with a swift blow from his sword. The blade cleaved through flesh and bone, and blood splattered across Maric's armor as the fury cried out in pain. The beast, unable to stop itself, crashed through a nearby tree in a gust of wooden shards before collapsing onto the dirt. Maric looked on as the dust settled, seeing the creature struggling to stand, frantically flapping its wings and letting out meek cries for help.

Maric made his way over to the dying creature and plunged his blade into it, putting it out of its misery.

Dreyfus smiled uneasily at the other exiles, whose names he had just learned were Caryel and Rosthor. Caryel, the woman who had called out to him and initiated the introductions, had a much paler skin hue that Dreyfus was partially puzzled by at first glance. It took the Valoran several moments for him to grasp that she was clearly one of the Plain Folk who lived on the very outskirts of Valora.

The man, Rosthor, appeared to be dressed in the garb of a clergy member, yet without the distinctive collar that the priest wore to show which god they belonged to. It did not take much pondering for Dreyfus to understand he had been excommunicated. For whatever reason though, the scholar was unsure of.

"Uh, well... hello, I'm Dreyfus." His voice had a borderline hint of nervousness, which was usually the case when he was subjected to social situations. He was especially prone to seize up during introductions, no less.

"I would love to join you two, yeah. Um, to be quite honest, I'm pretty nervous about being out here in the first place. I would very much like to survive." Dreyfus glanced apprehensively at their unwelcoming surroundings. The Outlands seemed far from forgiving, and groups were always easier to survive dangerous environments with.

Suddenly, ear-splitting screeches began to fill the air and grow in intensity. A grey cloud descended from across the desolate plains, swirling in a tornado of wings and tails. Dreyfus frantically searched his immediate location for any sort of cover or shelter from whatever these monstrous beings were, and after failing to find anything that would suffice, began to panic.

"What do we do, what do we do?!" Dreyfus shouted to no one in particular as he scrambled across the ground in dismay.

Unaware of what his new acquaintances were doing or how they were reacting to this sudden development, Dreyfus found himself taking off towards the outcropping Caryel had pointed out in the distance. Sprinting as fast as his nonathletic legs could take him, he pounded across the plain, scholar robes flapping uselessly around him. His sprinting came to an abrupt halt as his foot caught on a large rock and he went careening into the earth below him, his face shoved into the dirt.

The world seemed to slow as Dreyfus lay there in the dirt, a thick cloud of dust surrounding him, dark grey shadows whizzing over his motionless body constantly, blocking the sunlight from penetrating the wall of wings. The world was a blur, the shrieking of the avian creatures fading away into a dull background noise as Dreyfus observed a silhouette manifest before him, wings flapping, maw snarling, saliva dripping down onto the dirt below.

The figure let loose a wild, piercing scream that immediately woke the scholar from his daze. He had next to no time to react before the creature pounced, leaping on top of him and digging into his skin with sharp talons. Dreyfus reached his hands up to grab at the creature and throw it off, however, it remained latched onto him despite what seemed to Dreyfus like the most forceful pulling ever imaginable.

Suddenly the creature's head bolted for the Valoran's open and exposed neck. Dreyfus grabbed onto the avian's small head with both hands, stopping it just moments before sinking its drooling fangs into his flesh. With a heave and a grunt, Dreyfus managed to push the creature off him, digging his thumbs into the animal's eyes, a move that evoked a shriek of pain that caused the scholar to raise his hands to his aching ears.

Dreyfus stood quickly and stumbled backwards before the creature could recover from his injuries. It looked up from where it was recovering and viciously snarled before batting its wings and flying away. Dreyfus sighed, bending over as he tried to regain his breath.

However, something collided into him from behind and took all that breath he had regain away. After thrashing around on the dusty ground for a while, yelling in pain when a talon dug particularly deep into his skin, Dreyfus managed to release himself from the creature that had assaulted him from behind. Adrenaline flowing, the Valoran charged the recuperating beast and felt his foot connect with its neck, eyes wide open with fear and disbelief after hearing the snap of bone. The animal collapsed to the ground, limp.

Did I just... kill that thing? Dreyfus wondered in disbelief, shocked at the sudden occurrence of events. He had never ended any creature's life before in his existence... and in just a few minutes of being in the Outlands, and he was amidst a swarm of rat-like avian beasts that thirsted for blood, one of which he just killed.

Shaking the shock and thoughts of disbelief from his head Dreyfus hastily and haphazardly searched his surroundings for any other proximate dangers before turning immediately to the outcropping and breaking out in a sprint, this time more watchful of his footing.

Jaryk barely had time to turn around to see what Maric was talking about. He caught a glimpse of him sliding toward some boulders, but that sight was soon replaced by that of a large, gray flying monster. The next thing he felt was the feeling that his feet were no longer on the ground. The beast was holding onto his shoulders, dragging him off into the air. Jaryk struggled to get free, but the beast's grip was too strong. He tried hitting it with his fists, to no avail.

"Damnit! Let me go, you plopsty monster!"

Small balls of fire appeared in Jaryk's hands. He slammed them against each side of the beast's head, causing a small explosion. Jaryk gave a satisfied smirk as the beast began to drop altitude. They hung about 15 feet off the ground. But out of the cloud of smoke, the beast screeched. It's hair had been burned off, and it's skin was missing in spots. Jaryk struggled, repulsed by the appearance of the thing. He pulled a dagger out, driving it into the creatures neck. He pulled it out and stabbed again. And then over and over again. The creature fell, finally letting Jaryk go about 8 feet above the ground. They both plummeted, with Jaryk landing atop the corpse of the monster.

He heard something crack on his left side, the side he landed on. He was fairly certain he'd broken a rib or two. Well, positive would be a better word. He gave a pained scream, clutching his side. The pain was unbearable and new to him. He'd never broken a bone before. This, he thought, was the worst possible place to have his first. He just hoped someone in the group of exiles new at least rudimentary first-aid, or else it would be a far harder journey than Jaryk expected.

Ross and Caryel stopped, watching as an older Valoran man stumbled toward them. He came to a halt before them and paused for a moment before nervously beginning, "Um, well... hello, I suppose..." They spent the next moment becoming acquainted before they got to the heart of the matter. "I would love to join you two, yeah. Um, to be quite honest, I'm pretty nervous about being out here in the first place. I would very much like to survive."

"Well, stick together and I think we'll be fine," Ross said, hoping to comfort the man. He also silently thanked Selone for sending him a fellow scholar for the journey. "So far, I can't say things are all that bad."

A screech pierced the air and a pallor fell over the plains, and Ross' features clouded along with the skies. "Looks like I spoke too soon," he said, turning to take in a swarm of fearsome winged monsters flying across the Outlands. "What do we do, what do we do?!"

Dreyfus didn't stick around for an answer, instead taking off in the direction of the rock outcropping they had been headed for before the threat presented itself. All but sure the squeamish scholar would be gone as soon as he had arrived, Ross simply chose to stick with Caryel and take his chances. What could have spawned these things? He looked to Caryel; she was much better suited for this than he was. Oh well, he thought, Selone give me strength.



The horde was descending on the duo. Ross took his mace off his hip and clutched it at arm's length. He looked up and saw one of the monsters swooping down, talons extended, teeth bared, its form obscuring the sun. With a grunt, he swung as hard as he could into the beast's abdomen.

Maric watched as Jaryk and a fury were grounded, tumbling over in a disorganized tangle of limbs and appendages as a plume of dust rose. The knight rushed over, finding Jaryk laying upon the motionless carcass of the beast. A pained scream came from him, and Maric saw that he was clutching his side. "We need to go," Maric grumbled as he walked over and helped Jaryk to his feet. "If something is broken, we will have to deal with it later." Maric said as he turned towards the new exiles, who were still in the field.

He ran over to the end of the treeline and saw one of them bolting towards the rocky outcropping, the other two were gearing up to do battle. "Hey!" Maric yelled, "Over here! Into the forest!"

A screech pierced Caryel's ears, and she turned to see a swarm of flying beasts. When she was a child, she had heard the stories of these beasts, but even with her wild imagination she couldn't fathom the ferocity and terror of what their reality was.

Their newest companion, Dreyfus, was the first to react. In a flurry of panic he bolted toward their destination, only to be chased down by one of the winged creatures. The Half-Tíre knew better than to keep her sights away from the swarm for too long and turned back to face the danger.

Caryel drew her sword while swiftly glancing at Ross, who too had readied his weapon. Several beasts swooped down, their talons aimed for the two exiles. Caryel reacted quickly, using her weapon to block the furious swipes that the beasts delivered. She turned her sword to slice at the creature's legs, causing it to flinch and cry out in pain.

While the beast was concentrated on the shock of its injury, Caryel used this opportunity to thrust her sword into the torso of the monster. In response it flung a limb at the knight, managing to find her weakest armor on her leg. The material ripped at the impact of the pair of its razor sharp talons, piercing her skin. The creature bled heavily from its wound, and realizing it was not in a good position to continue fighting, it heaved its wings into a rhythm and took to the sky in order to flee.

Caryel gritted her teeth at her injury before turning to Ross. Judging by the incapacitated creature lying near the former priest, he seemed to have handled his own battle well. "Let's go Ross! While we have the chance!"

The adrenaline in her system kept the pain of her cut to a minimum as she sprinted to the rocky outcropping. "Hey! Over here! Into the forest!"

She wasn't sure who had said it. It didn't sound like Dreyfus, or Ross, but she didn't think anyone else was out here. Still, the Half-Tíre obeyed and began to run toward the treeline. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally arrived at her destination. The knight dropped her sword in exhaustion and placed her hands on her knees before realizing that she wasn't the only one who sought shelter here.

"Hey! Over here! Into the forest!" A voice called out from the nearby outcropping as Dreyfus stumbled closer and closer, wheezing as he ran. Before him, a wall of gnarled branches rose from the cracked ground with the outcropping flanking it. Dreyfus could see the man who had called out to him peeking out from the treeline, motioning and gesturing for him to hurry and retreat to the apparent safety that was the forest.

Dreyfus stumbled into forest and collapsed on the ground, heart racing and breathless. He had never physically exerted himself with that level of intensity once in his life. In fact, he had rarely physically exerted himself during his life within Valora; it was a miracle he was able to sprint clear across the desolate plain to the safety of the forest.

After a few moments, the Valoran was able to slow his breathing and heart rate, and the adrenaline from the fight with the winged beast earlier had almost completely worn off. He looked up at the man who called for him, who was patiently waiting for Dreyfus to recover, clad in battered steel armor and holding a knight's longsword.

"Th.. thank you," Dreyfus stuttered, sighing. "Who... who are you?"

Maric could only watch as the exiles fled from the swarm, sprinting across the field and towards him in the forest. He clutched his sword tightly, his heart rate picking up as he muttered "come on... come on" under his breath. They were getting closer, running straight for Maric as the furies shrieked and cried above.

Then, they made it. Tearing through the gnarled vines and foliage of the treeline and reaching the safety of the forest. Maric sighed in relief as two of them collapsed with exhaustion. The furies flew in close by the trees, flapping their wings and roaring in contempt and agitation before veering off and flying away. For now, they were safe.

"Th.. thank you," Maric looked upon the older man who was kneeling before him, who definitely did not seem like the kind of person to be exiled. "Who... who are you?"
"My name is Maric, I was a knight in the service of the King." He said, realizing that the trio would likely recognize him as the supposed murderer of the prince. "And you would be?"

Maric glanced over at the other two exiles, a woman clad in armor and a man wearing what seemed to be priest robes. He immediately recognized the woman as a knight who had been a part of the Vigilum prior to his exodus. His eyes widened with surprise, "It would seem I'm not the only knight out here, Caryel." He said, recalling her name.

When the beast slammed into Rosthor's swinging mace, it tumbled past him into the ground, nearly knocking him over as it suddenly decelerated and rolled across the ground and kicked up dust in its wake. Surprised that his attack had taken the flying monster down, Ross ran after the wounded foe which was slowly squirming on the ground, leaving the state of a pained daze.

The priest took a deep breath before planting his foot on the creature's neck. "I'm really not cut out for this," he said, before winding back and bashing the monster's skull with a sickening crack.

Caryel pulled Ross from his post-kill introspection when she yelled to him, "Let's go Ross! While we have the chance!"

Ross took off behind her, tearing across the plains on pure adrenaline and fear. An unfamiliar voice called "Hey! Over here! Into the forest!" and the duo complied, able to run uninhibited while the monsters circled over the plains, momentarily pulling back from their predatory attack. Good thing the other exiles got away from that rock formation. They're our only hope, and if they were there we wouldn't stand much chance.

Speaking of... As Ross and Caryel gradually ran down to a slow walk under the shade of the forest canopy, they found before them three figures: a shaken Dreyfus and the other two exiles. "Thanks for... calling us over..." Ross got out between panting breaths. "Oh!" he exclaimed, wandering eyes falling on a gash in the half-Tíre's leg. "I- I can fix that, but I can't do it on the drop of a hat. Are we safe?" He asked the two new faces.

"It would seem I'm not the only knight out here, Caryel."

Caryel smiled warily, not sure whether to be delighted to see someone who knew her or not. "Seems like you're not Maric. Truthfully, you were the last person I expected to see out here." She hoped he didn't take that as a back-handed comment - just a truthful one. Maric probably felt the same way. She glanced at their group, noticing Dreyfus and a younger man that she had not seen before. How long he and Maric been out here?

"I- I can fix that," Ross spoke, his eyes on Caryel's wound, "but I can't do it on the drop of a hat. Are we safe?"

The half-Tíre glanced at her fellow knight. He seemed to know be the experienced one out here. "I don't know. Maric, is the forest safe?"

Gideon grunted as he hit the ground just outside the gates. Getting to his feet as the large metal doors slammed shut behind him, he rubbed his wrists, massaging the sore spots where his shackles had been a few seconds prior. They had been nice enough to return his sword and armor to him before he was exiled, no doubt to make it seem as though they were giving him a shot at survival. He chuckled softly to himself. Even with the finest steel in Valora at his side, he'd be lucky to last a week in the Outlands. Everyone had heard the stories about the creatures that lurked beyond the wall. If half of them were true, a never-ending army of Husks was probably the least of his worries.

After making sure the Clergy had returned everything to him (which they had, with the unfortunate exception of his drinking flask), Gideon surveyed the area, taking in the twisted scenery that stretched out before him. In the area near the wall, it seemed to be primarily made of up long-dead plains, with rough dirt and tall, dried out grass. The occasional rock outcropping broke up the monotony of the place, though they weren't exactly pleasant to look at. In the distance, Gideon could make out what looked like some sort of shadowy forest. Even at a distance, it seemed rather dangerous. Then again, so was everywhere else in the Outlands. He'd keep it in sight.

Spying a rather large rock formation in the distance, Gideon began to make his way towards it. It was a good a place as any to plan his next move. After a few minutes of walking, he stumbled over something on the ground. Turning around to look at it, he was greeted by the sight of a terrible beast, dark grey with an open mouth full of yellowed teeth. Whatever it was, Gideon wasn't keen on encountering a live one.

"Right then," He muttered to himself. "The forest it is."

"Seems like you're not Maric. Truthfully, you were the last person I expected to see out here." Maric nodded, though he knew she only meant well and didn't mean to offend, he couldn't help but feel somewhat affronted. Not at her, but at the reminder of his fate as an exile.
"I- I can fix that," assured one of the new exiles, gesturing towards Caryel's wounded leg. "But I can't do it on the drop of a hat. Are we safe?"

Caryel glanced up at Maric, and followed up on her partner's question. "I don't know. Maric, is the forest safe?"

"It's safest during the day, and it won't be long before night falls." He said as he sheathed his blade. He knew he was letting his guard down, and he could be dealing with dangerous individuals guilty of heinous crimes. However, Maric looked upon the new exiles and realized that the trio consisting of an old man, a priest and Caryel didn't seem to be much of a threat. "Husks are a lot more active during the night." He paused, "--and yes, they are real."

Maric then held both hands to his helmet and lifted it from his head, revealing a man who despite being very pale, (likely due to the fact he rarely ever took his helmet off) emanated a sense of vigor and strength. With his hand, he brushed his disheveled brown hair back. He now possessed a full beard, having not shaved since his exodus.

"First, I believe introductions are in order." He said this as he looked upon the group with a sense of indictment in his voice. "Specifically, why you were exiled."

Ross didn't know what to make of Caryel and Maric's prior acquaintance and first-name basis; for now he'd keep quiet. Caryel asked about the forest's safety. Maric answered, "It's safest during the day, and it won't be long before night falls. Husks are a lot more active during the night - and yes, they are real."

Ross scratched his chin, considering this troubling news. He looked to Caryel. "Hmm... well, I guess I'd better get to work on that leg soon then, at least get it to the point where you can walk without too much trouble."

Ross turned back to the group and saw that the knight remove his helmet, revealing a pale, virile man with a tousled head of brown hair and a full beard. "First, I believe introductions are in order."

"Specifically, why you were exiled," he added after a pause.

"Rosthor Iszis, Priest of-" Ross paused, correcting with a sigh, "former Priest of Selone. Excommunicated for... practicing magic without the Clergy's approval. Among other, er, blasphemies." The Valoran knew that exiled to the Outlands, he was beyond dignity or pride, but at the recollection of his crimes, he was feeling conflicted, pulled this way and that. Part of him wanted to beg for forgiveness before Selone and the Clergy, part of him wanted to hide his face and never show it again, and of course, part of him longed to be intimate with Caryel. The last part scared him a little.