A man is defined not by his origins or environment but by the choices he makes. Every decision, like a single drop of water from the sky, will culminate into the most beautiful and powerful storm. The storm will shape the world, and the world will be better or worse for it. People will live, others will die. There will be suffering and hate, but also love and joy. A man must remember that destiny does not hold power over his decisions, it is his decisions that hold power over destiny.
Ridley had chosen to sleep in the temple, deep in the dark catacomb. He had moved there from the chambers above, hoping that this new location might bring him more pleasent dreams. As he lay in his bedroll he looked to the Ruvaak. So much occurs in twenty-four years, it is easy to lose your grasp on reality. Since he had joined the Tide, so many memories had haunted Ridley. His past choices tormented his soul, and he now felt physically abated. In his youth he had tried so hard to impress his father while all the time making the wrong decisions. Thief, cultist, murderer... tyrant. What were these things? Nothing that Ridley wanted to be, nor anything he intended to become. Joining with Kraven was a choice originating from a single emotion: fear. Fear of what? Not of Darius, nor Pelor, and not of the Scarlet Griffons. It was the fear of losing choice. Now Ridley had the world before him, and yet he still felt utterly lost. These things swarmed his mind as he turned in his bedroll, trying to find rest. When sleep finally crawled over the young knight, he drifted into a deep slumber, leaving all sense of reality behind.
Ridley's eyes bolted open. He took in a breath of air, and immediatley began to choke on thick black smoke. The air tasted foul with death and charred remains. Standing, he examined the environment. He appeared to be in a massive temple of stone, about a hundred feet wide and endlessly long. The ceiling was decorated with the most incredible arches nearly a hundred feet above, with large stained glass windows in the likenesses of Ridley's many allies and aquaintences. The floor was a magnificent mosaic tiling depicting all the major events of his life. Down one direction he saw his past cast along the floor, with the events at the beacon beneath his feet. He slowly turned to face the other direction, fear began to grip his throat as he pondered what his eyes might find in the future. Smoke billowed out from a furious blaze that blocked all in Ridley's future. Armoth stood at the base of the fire, above the dead body of Trog. Ridley looked into Armoth's infuriated eyes and saw an unspeakable pain, a dark wrath. Armoth roared, and the fires enveloped his own body and that of Trog's. Ridley cried out to the sorcerer, but the flames were already raging out of control. In a single instant, the fires began to part in the middle, with Armoth nowhere to be seen. From the depths of the inferno walked a Scarlet Griffon in valiant armor, wielding a greatsword of whitest radiance, and a helm that concealed his face. Ridley unshackled his flail, and prepared for battle.
The Griffon walked towards Ridley with passionate purpose, and bore a presence that was palpable in the air. The distance between the two knights shrank until engagement was inevitable. Ridley threw a mess of flail swings at the Griffon, and all were easily avoided as he swatted aside the head of the flail with his blade. The Griffon stepped forward for a counterattack, and Ridley raised his chain to hold off the incoming blow. As metal clanged with metal, a pulse of light sent Ridley tumbling backwards, the chain of his flail shattering, and the handle falling from his grip. What was this power? Ridley stood as the Griffon moved forward into a second assault. Unarmed, Ridley could do nothing but try and avoid his attacker's vicious swings. He moved past a single blow, and then another as the greatsword hummed through the air with arcane force. A third attack came unexpectedly and landed flawlessly against his chestplate with a thunderous boom. Ridley was blasted backwards violently as if hit by a boulder, crashing against the wall of the temple. He sucked in the opaque air, hacking and choking from both smog and wounds. Coughing up blood and ash, Ridley looked up at the Griffon. He held his blade to his side, approaching Ridley with a triumphant aura. Ridley's eyes fell to the flames beyond the Griffon, to the body of Trog. The orc's blade lay at his side, glowing in the firelight. The Griffon raised his gleaming weapon for a finishing blow, and at the start of the swing Ridley roared and charged his opponent to the ground. The two grappled briefly, exchanging several strong blows before Ridley climbed off the Griffon and ran for Trog's sword. He picked up the sword and felt it's power radiate through his hands. This weapon was far more precise than his flail, exactly what he needed.
It had been years since Ridley had wielded a sword, but he had trained all his life for it's use. He now approached the recovering Griffon, and their greatswords met with a resounding force. Another burst of light vibrated Trog's blade, but it seemed this weapon would withstand the Griffon's might. The warriors twirled and danced before the aggressive pyre in a cacophany of steel. The Griffon was growing tired, and Ridley locked his opponent's sword on the crossguard, delivering a visor-crushing punch to the helm, and sent his opponents blade twirling towards the light of the fire as it's own white glow faded. The Griffon took a step backwards in shock, too exhausted to do any more. Without hesitation Ridley spun, sending Trog's sword onto a bloody venture into the Griffon's unarmored hip. The blade stopped just before the knight's spine, and Ridley ripped the sword out, finishing the kill. The fires began part at the center once more, and Ridley now noticed that the Griffon's sword, without it's divine glow, looked exactly like Trog's. Ridley's eyes widened as he looked back to the corpse of the Griffon. He quickly stepped over the body of the knight and pulled off his crumpled helm. Ridley dropped Trog's sword and fell backwards.
The Griffon on the ground was him.
A cold sigh came from behind Ridley, he turned and looked up at a knight of bones, with armor far more intricate than his own. The being was soaked in burning crimson, and holding an entanglement of gore that cried like a baby. "What are you?!" Ridley roared as he lept to his feet, grabbing Trog's sword off the ground.
The knight of bones spoke in a whispering shrill tone that was too similar to Kraven's, "I am what lurks in the darkest corners of your soul... I am the Ruinous Griffon."
Ridley held the blade out to the Ruinous Griffon, "Away with you!"
An ear peircing laugh fell from the Griffon, "You cannot kill me anymore than you can kill your own shadow. For I am your fear, your hate, your ambition, and your wrath."
A voice echoed from the dead Griffon on the ground, "Run, Ridley, run through the fire!"
Ridley looked from Griffon to Griffon, backing up towards the opening in the fire, and he turned and ran. The Ruinous Griffon slowly stepped towards the blaze before the opening shut in a swirl of embers. Ridley didn't stop running until the air was clear of smoke and death, and as he fell to the ground he examined the mosaic floor. He saw split and distorted images, some showing the Ruinous Griffon murdering hundreds, and the others showing the Scarlet Griffon... fighting the Tide.
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