Author's Notes: This is my first writing attempt so I hope it goes well and that you enjoy it. I'll be trying to keep as close to the lore of the game as possible though I will be taking some artistic liberties at some points. If you're wondering I will be getting my lore mainly from this site: History_of_Wraeclast though that doesn't mean I won't be looking into other sources. If this chapter seems short that's probably because it's meant to be a simple introduction for the main characters. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: They call Wraeclast the continent of the damned. For the Templar, "damned" just meant that God needed to be brought to its shores.

Drip. Drip. Drip. The raid plopped to the floor with a wet sopping sound. The ship tossed and turned as the waves beat against the hull. A weak, flickering torch hung next to the doorway; it splashed the silhouettes of exiles across the walls of the prison hold. to the left of the only entry way. The prison hold; a cavernous expanse packed with exiles both men and women alike.

The heavy door creaked open.

Slowly, a man clad in dulled armor clanked into the prison hold and drew in a deep, strong breath.

Few awoke, even fewer bothered to open their eyes, only a handful raised their eyes to meet the prison guard's glare, and only one struggled to his feet and leveled his eyes at him.

"EXILES, RISE!" The deep voice resonated across every nook and cranny of the hold.

"Now, your new home's looming on the horizon, and while I personally don't care if we simply had you degenerates executed by the blade and tossed to the waves, I, unlike any of you, am a man bound to his word. So it's time to move all of you to the upper deck where we're preparing for your disembarkment." The captain's words came out slow and condescending.

More guards filed into the prison hold, their armor clanking and their eyes glowering at the exiles. Each guard marched to and stood patiently by their allotted set of prisoners, their weapons drawn and ready to strike down the dissident.

"EXILES TO THE UPPER DECK!"

The guards began grabbing the groggy exiles and shoving them towards the door, prodding them with their blades in an effort to get them moving.

The exiles looked at the looming coastline of Wraeclast, an unforgiving and abandoned continent, filled with the undead and other monstrosities.

"I can't fucking wait for these exiles to drown so we can sail back home." One of the guards grumbled out. The captain put on a grim look and placed his gauntlet covered hand on the guard's shoulder.

"Theopolis, its women, drinks, and food waits for all good men to return." The captain then let out a heavy sigh, slow and deep, as he looked back towards his home in Oriath. "We finish this and we're off for the next few weeks while some other poor guards get the pleasure of bringing in whatever poor bastards get exiled next."

The exiles were hoarded towards the starboard side of the ship, the guards behind them, weapons and shields still drawn and held firmly.

"Time to disembark exiles. It's either sink or swim" a small chuckle escaped his lips, "and trust me when I say that sinking is the more favorable option."

The man who seemed so eager to stand earlier turned to look at the rolling waves, then raised his eyes towards the dark coastline of the continent he knew to be Wraeclast. His face turned stern and steady as he contemplated his future.

-Swim is the only option I can consider here. My God is watching me now. Judging me with his gaze-

The man thought as he returned his eyes to the exiles surrounding him, six of them stood out from amongst the exiled crowd.

A massive giant of a man, his frame towering over all the others and his torso covered in a Karui tattoo. His arms were thick like the elder oak trees that populated the outer forest surrounding Theopolis.

A much smaller man was watching with darkened eyes from the back of the crowd. His form was thin and willowy. Yet the man could see the danger present in his form. It was clear from the way he held himself, his body coiled like a spring, or more accurately a dagger waiting in the dark to bury itself in an unsuspecting fools chest.

Near the front of the crowd with him, though a little further to his right, was a woman, clad in ornate clothing. The man furrowed his brow in confusion as he realized what her garments indicated; this woman belonged to one of the wealthy families in Theopolis.

–What exactly is one of noble birth doing here?- The man thought as he continued his scan of the crowd.

Another man, larger than the second but not nearly as large as the first, he was garbed in the clothing of a fencer. His face was set in a vicious smirk, a look that defied all logic, as though he was looking forward to the challenge of facing the rolling waves and the threats on Wraeclast.

A woman with short blonde seemed to be doing the same as himself. Observing the crowd. Her eyes seems to squint as she eyed each man and woman as though she were checking their worth, or perhaps she was checking whether or not they were threats to her person. Her eyes met his and she raised a single eyebrow.

Finally, a girl, far younger than anyone else in the assorted crowd. The man wracked his brain trying to figure out what crime a child could commit to land themselves in such dire straits; though who could understand the corrupt nobles of Theopolis and their mad designs.

The man looked upon himself, his body was taut with firm muscles, scars lined his body, though covered by the worthless rags that were given to him by the church elders as they stripped him of his status and authority. His skin was tan from his days spent training and fighting under the blistering sun. His hair had greyed earlier than most due to the stress of constant battle and his face seemed aged beyond his days.

He stared at his hands, calloused and roughened by his days spent forging his weapon and armor now, which now reminded him of his days as a Templar. His days amongst his brothers. His days spent with those…tools, all of whom had no purpose now. He alone knew his purpose and the path God had set out before him. He alone knew what his knew purpose was.

"Arrrgghhhhh!" Some exiles screamed as they either plunged into the icy waters of their own volition or were shoved over the edge of the ship. The Templar took a few steps back and rushed towards the edge of the ship, leaped into the icy waters below, and began his swim towards the shoreline.

*Cough* *Cough*

The Templar groggily opened his eyes as he spat the salty sea water out of his lungs and onto the sand before him.

"…God bless…I actually made it to shore." For all the faith he had in his God, the Templar had still doubted whether he would make it to the sandy, corpse ridden beach.

Hacking and coughing, he shoved his arms into the ground and shoved himself up onto his feet.

"Hehehe…seems like your finally awake…I was waiting a while ya know."

The Templar shifted his gaze to a man sitting languidly to his right.

"If you happen to be wondering where the other exiles are…'' The man pointed towards the ocean "It's clear that most chose the captain's…gracious advice. Ah ha ha ha…" The man's laughter was weak and petered out.

"The ones who did make it…They took off already. Call me crazy but I assume their heading for the big wooden walls further east along the shoreline." The Templar eyed the dead bodies surrounding them, then trailed his eyes further eastwards, towards a massive, looming wall in the distance.

"Look…just…snap out of whatever shit your thinking of and pick up what's next to ya."

Buried in the sand was a mace, complete with rotting wood handle and red rusted steel rivets installed at the head.

"Just help me up and let's get going. The rest didn't feel like waiting and now that you're awake I'd like to head out as well." The man raised a hand towards the Templar, tired grin on his face.

Reaching out and grabbing his hand, the Templar lifted his new…compatriot to his feet as he eyed him warily. "If the others didn't wait…why did you? You don't pass off as self-sacrificing in any manner."

"They left your ass because you were passed out. They left my ass because I was too weak to even get up after the beating the waves gave me." He staggered to his feet and heavily sighed. "Don't mistaken me as some humanitarian now. Pure coincidence has joined us together."

"I…appreciate honesty I suppose. Why give me the weapon in lieu of taking it for yourself? The Templar looked the man over and saw his emaciated form. –How did he even make it to shore looking like this?-

"Ha..hahaha…look at me, what the hell would I do with mace when I can't even get up on my own?" Lips twisting into a somber smile, he leveled a steady gaze at the Templar.

"Well thank you. Are you prepared to head towards the walls, whoever resides within them, and the exiles?" The Templar began to reposition his rags so as to cover his lower body. He was sure to find more to cover the rest of him. His decency was priority.

"There was another though she split off from the others. A girl, young at that. Amazing she even made it to shore. Headed a bit inland towards the cliffs."

"I thought you said that you were no humanitarian?" His eyebrows furrowed, as he remember the visage of the girl he took notice of earlier on the ship.

"No, but if she's confident enough to head out on her own she's either skilled at surviving horrifying shit like this or she's just that moronic. Either way we don't lose much. Just some time…and possibly our lives hahaha." His face began to show more life now, his eyes determined and his shoulders squared.

The Templar had spent most of his life fighting for his brothers in the church, fighting to protect the people of the city, fighting for his God. Saving one girl, the church would call him a fool for wasting time. Wasting resources. He should head towards the walls, find the other exiles, and establish a plan of action. After all, the church Elders would cry in disdain, what was the life of one girl compared to a mission ordained by God himself?

He made up his mind almost instantly after these thoughts.

"How far north?"

The man smirked and let out a raucous laughter. "Ahhahaha! I suggest we head north-northeast for only a dozen minutes. At that point we'll be practically humping the cliffside so if we don't run into her there we can just head towards the wall."

"Let's head off then. Keep your eyes open for any undead corpses. I'm not a particular fan of surprises."

"Well let's hope the dead stay dead in the first place. My ears are still a bit water logged and my muscles feel like their being weighed down by anchors."

The Templar let a weak smile form on his lips. –To be honest I'm not much better right now. I can still feel the beating the waves gave me on my journey here-

"My name is Damase." The Templar extended his hand in a gesture of...acquaintanceship. Not friendship, no, it was a bit early for that. But acquaintanceship was fine.

"And mine is Morien." -This could work-, Morien thought, -this could really work-.

They both turned towards the cliffs.

The Templar took the lead position.

Then, all hell broke loose behind him.