(Post written by Script)
In the end, the remainder of the group had set up camp on that plateau for the rest of the night. The prospect of carrying on at that point was too much for anyone aside from Luriel to consider. Of the twelve, only four remained.
The morning came, and they had achieved little in the way of sleep. The ground was hard, and the cold harsh. The scars of battle still made themselves known there, too – blood stains on the floor, and gashes in the rock, even if they had disposed of the bodies. Those of the Orsa they had tipped over the side of the cliff. Shaiel’s they had buried with the aid of Sylvire’s magic.
Sylvire rose to her feet with a sigh as the sun broke. She had made no attempt to sleep. The events of the previous day weighed too heavily on her mind. Around her, the others began to stir. Peregrin and Gawyn – obviously having not spelt themselves – looked up practically as soon as she stood. Luriel was sitting on a rock some way back up the path, having taken it upon herself to act as watch the whole night. Sylvire had to wonder how the assassin held back her fatigue.
Elias and Seridur stirred when she placed a hand on her husband’s arm. They were the only two who had slept, it seemed, perhaps due to the fact that they had not the ties to the fallen that the Patronus members had. Sylvire couldn’t help but wonder if they would have been better off if she had not returned to them before. Being subject to this flight was taxing on the two - that much was obvious.
There was little discussion as they prepared to depart for the morning. They went without food – there was no hunting to be done on the side of a mountain, and set about finding a way down. Eventually they settled for edging along the cliff face, Sylvire using her earth magic to widen the ledges so that they could stand on them. It was an uncomfortable and dangerous route, and so Sylvire sent Peregrin ahead with Elias to meet them at the bottom – the half-celestial could fly the child down, as he was light, but would be unable to do so for the others.
The descent was taxing and dragged on seemingly for an eternity. Every slip gave Sylvire a minor heart attack, whether it was herself, her husband, or Gawyn. Luriel, of course, never slipped. She could not take losing another friend to something as simple as a slip.
Hours later, they reached a part of the cliff where it widened, and they could continue without pressing themselves to the rock surface. After that, the speed of travel increased. They reached the base of the cliff by the afternoon, where they found Peregrin and Elias. The latter was sleeping again, the former gazing off into the depths of the forest. Any hint of childishness had faded from Peregrin over the course of the last few days, and now he had a harrowed look about him. He hadn’t smiled since Arran’s death.
“We must decide where it is best to go next.” Sylvire said after they had rested from their Cliffside exertions. The group was a ramshackle mess – clothes dirtied, caked with mud and dried blood, haggard with exhaustion.
“As far as we know, six of the Orsa remain alive.” She said, “This may be less, but we cannot afford to assume that the others were able to slay them. We have tried going into hiding, and it did not work. We have tried remaining scattered, and it did not work. We must stay together and find sanctuary, either somewhere that the Orsa cannot reach or somewhere that can defend us. The nearest city to us is my home, Amarathia. There we may find somewhere to gather ourselves at least temporarily.”
Luriel nodded. “The city is strong. If it is not caught off guard, it may survive an assault.” She affirmed.
Seridur sighed. “I’ll just be glad to see civilisation again, and be able to rest.”
“We all will.” Sylvire said, nodding her head. “We should get going.”
