Author's Note: This story is based on The Saga of the Exiles by Julian May. I haven't played much D&D with a large group, the only times I've tried ended in a completely broken campaign filled with much too powerful players. I've also only played AD&D and some D&D Next, but I'm using 3.5e for this because of the psionics rules and the availability of the rules. Please enjoy, and leave a review if you have the time. I'll try to update at least once a fortnight but if enough people want it I will try to update weekly. Each chapter should be about 2000 words. Please say if you want more or less per chapter.

I probably don't own anything to do with this story.


'In the beginning the DM created the campaign. But the campaign was without form and had no theme. So Dave and the Players spoke unto the DM, "Oh great DM. I see that thou needeth a theme for thy campaign! Here is one for thee. Why doth thou not make a campaign for the Saga of the Exiles for that is a great story." And the DM thought over this and he said, "Alas, I do not like this idea for I fear the Players shall abuse the setting and ruin my campaign world, but the Players will be my friends no more if I do not do this thing for them." And lo, the DM built the campaign around the Saga of the Exiles. And he saw that it was good'-The Campaign Guide, Beginnings, Chapter 1

Angélique Guderian hadn't had a visitor in a long time, especially now that her husband was dead, and the man at the gate with his little dog was certainly no ordinary visitor. He looked quite mad!

"Citizen Angélique Montmagny?" The man asked.

"I prefer the older form of address, but yes I am she."

"My apologies, Madame Guderian! Permit me to present myself. Richter is my name. Karl Josef Richter. I come to you with a business proposal about the invention of your late husband."

"I regret I am no longer able to demonstrate the device. In fact I will soon have it dismantled to pay off the bills."

"You must not!" Yelled Richter "You must not! I will pay highly for the chance to use it! I am a poet see, and I wish to experience the peaceful glory of the Pliocene for myself. I am fed up with this Galactic Milieu and I wish to leave it far behind me. I have my dog with me for companionship. Do not hesitate to send me there."

"Remember that my husband's creation can only transport you into the Pliocene, not back. We do not know much about what lies on the other side."

"Yes, Madame, but the flora is certainly well known, as is the climate. A prudent person like myself need fear nothing from it. Besides, I will pay handsomely for this opportunity. Certainly enough for at least the death duties for your late husband." as he said this, Richter handed a blue card to Madame Guderian. She stared at it in disbelief. A madman he certainly was, but a madman that providence had sent! Finally, she managed to get out a reply:

"Of course, Monsieur, but please have some refreshments before you go."

"I do not need refreshments, Madame. I have already eaten. I wish to leave for the Pliocene immediately."

"Of course, Monsieur, if you would kindly follow me."

Madame Guderian led Richter into the cellar in which the gazebo stood with all its cables still attached. Richter rushed towards the apparatus and could hardly contain his excitement. "At last! Quickly, Madame, quickly! Let me go through!"

"One moment, monsieur." Replied Madame Guderian as she carried Richter's books into the gazebo. "Listen to me. The moment you are translated get away from the point of your arrival or you will be transported back here as a dead man and you will crumble to dust. Do you understand?"

"I understand! Vite, vite! Let me go now!"

Madame Guderian turned on the power and instantly Richter, his dog, and all his books disappeared. She sunk to her knees and recited the angelic salutation three times, then got up and turned off the power.

The gazebo was empty. Madame Guderian let a great sigh escape her lips.

After Richter there were others, lots of them. Madame Guderian set up simple rules. Anyone wishing to travel into the Pliocene must be at least 28 years of age, not a fugitive from the law and not seriously deranged. Also, no modern weaponry or technology was allowed and any females who wanted to go through would have to give up their fertility. There were of course court cases, but with the help of powerful Lyon solicitors Madame Guderian always triumphed. By the turn of the 22nd century over ninety thousand fugitives had passed into Exile, as it was now known. In 2106 Madame Guderian left for Exile herself. The note she left behind, for she had always despised the Standard English of the Galactic Milieu, stated simply "Plus qu'il n'en faut."

The Human Polity of the Galactic Concilium, however, was not willing to accept this "more than enough" judgement. The time-portal became more efficient and more humane, and it stayed in operation. No one had any qualms about sending the time travellers to the Pliocene; people agreed that no time paradox was possible, though they would not let operant metapsychics through and restricted fertility just in case, and they all agreed that the travellers were more or less doomed anyway.

-Some Years Later-

"I've already sleep-learned my chosen vocation, but one thing that confused me about the vocations was the option to be a Dompteur (-euse). What do you suppose that is?" Elizabeth Orme tried to stir up table conversation with this question; it was Group Green's last supper before heading into Exile and she felt they still needed to get to know each other a little more.

Aiken Drum leapt to his feet and cracked an imaginary whip, "Hah, sabertooth kittycat! Down, sirrah! So you defy the commands of your master? Roll over! Fetch! ... Not the ringmaster you fewkin' fool!"

Elizabeth burst out laughing as the rest of Group Green gawked. For a short moment she forgot her pains and felt happy as a normal specimen of female humanity, but this feeling didn't last long.

On the far side of the table Bryan Grenfell made a comment to the aged Claude beside him, "I heard that Aiken is quite a trouble maker and a non-born of Scottish ancestry."

"Indeed I am!" Replied Aiken, "I was given an option of Incarceration, Domiciliation, or Euthanasia due to all my trouble making, as you put it. I chose Exile. I'm rather proud of my exploits. At only 14 I was a stowaway aboard a ship, I sent out a little robot mouse of my own creation to steal from the richer passengers. Nobody found me for weeks."

There was silence for a while after that. Claude Majewski restarted conversation, "So, Elizabeth, returning to the subject of vocations, which one did you choose?"

"I chose to become a balloonist. I came to Exile to float around in a balloon and look over the beauty of the Pliocene. I'm hoping to forget the loss of my metapsychic powers after my accident and the beauty of the Pliocene will help. I used to be a great farsensor and redactor, but no more." At this Elizabeth turned melancholy and focused on eating.

"So we've heard Elizabeth's story, and you've heard mine," said Aiken, "So I'd rather like to know your stories. Starting with you, Bryan, after your frankly hurtful comments about me."

"I'm sorry Aiken, I didn't mean to insult you. So, to make amends, here is my story. Two months ago, I met a beautiful woman named Mercedes Lamballe, it was love at first sight, though she doesn't believe in that kind of thing. But I had to leave the next day and when I returned two months later she had gone into Exile. I had to follow her." Shortly afterwards Bryan started mumbling to himself unheard by anyone else in the room, "There is a lady sweet and kind, was never face so pleased my mind. I did but see her passing by, but yet I love her till I die."

"And you, Claude?" Asked Aiken again.

"Well, I'm a paleobiologist and I came here because I wanted to see the fossil zoo that is the Pliocene, but I also came to keep the lovely Amerie here company. She had treated my wife, Gen, as she died after our first rejuvenation and kept me company during those troubling times. I just had to help her in any way I could."

"You're too kind, Claude. I didn't do that much." Said Annamaria Roccaro, or Amerie as she was known to those close to her, "I suppose I should tell my story now. I feel out of touch with the current church, I prefer the idea of being a hermit, but they prefer charitable activity. I tried to apply to monasteries, but they wouldn't let me join. So I chose the one place where I could be a true hermit, that place being Exile."

"Very interesting, Amerie." Said Aiken, "I'd like to hear about Stein now"

"I was a driller, that's all you need to know." Replied Stein Oleson, who had Norse ancestry and was incredibly well built.

"Wow, that was a real eye-opener, that story. Nearly brought me to tears. Richard, if you would be so kind."

"I used to be a spacer, you know? Shipping cargo everywhere, created my own crew out of just AIs. Gave them all personalities myself. But, I had this incident involving this alien ship in distress and I lost my licence and had my ship taken from me. I was gonna chill out and have some fun on Earth, but I heard about Exile and I felt like that would be better for me. I'm gonna go down to Bordeaux and start a vineyard. Anyone want to join me?"

"I will, if you really want." Answered Stein.

"I'll be happy to have you with me." Richard responded.

"Well then, Felice. What's your story?" Aiken asked for the last time.

"I wouldn't normally tell you, but you lot might get in the way so I'll give you a warning." Felice Landry said in the most subtly threatening way she could, using her minor coercive powers to frighten the others, "I used to be a Ring-hockey player on Acadie."

"You played that ridiculous sport with the stun guns and the wild mounts? Why did your parents let you?" Amerie interrupted, shocked.

"I joined the team as a groom, but the coach quickly let me join the team. I won the team our first Pennant, but the other players were scared of me and after I injured a couple of them they kicked me out, and I came here. But, because I'm so young, they wouldn't let me through to Exile. The only way I could have got in was through the recidivist clause. So I broke the counsellor's collarbone."

Everyone gasped, even Elizabeth who hadn't been listening to the conversation before this.

"You broke his collarbone?" Claude asked, surprised at the strength of this lovely young girl. "I wouldn't have expected anything like that from you!"

"You are certainly full of surprises aren't you, Felice?" Richard said.

Without intending to Elizabeth sent a redactive probe at Felice, it failed of course because she had lost her metafunctions, but Felice turned and glared at her. Felice couldn't have felt it! And even if she had she wouldn't know Elizabeth had sent it. Elizabeth was growing increasingly worried about that young girl's powers.

Felice turned to face the others and shrugged in answer to their questions, "Let me just say I'm a lot tougher than you might think. So don't even try to mess with me!"

After this the conversation halted for a while, then continued on half-heartedly until everyone was finished. As Group Green left the dining room Felice stayed behind and smiled. As long as those idiots stayed out of her way this would certainly be fun. But she had no idea what would really happen when she journeyed into Exile.


Thanks for reading this. Please leave a review so I can improve. Also, anyone who could give me some help with rules queries/what I can or can't do with magic items would be much appreciated. I've got some ideas for how torcs work that I need to check.

I just made a few grammatical edits after another quick proof read.