Ridley Paradis: Resurrection

The evil men do lives on after their death, while the good is buried with their bones. I seem to feel the opposite. My death was the swift breath before the plunge into the darkest corners of my own mind, the very last hope for any good within me. Only the truly evil remained. No longer was I driven by hate, I became something more. As Pelor's light vacated my soul I felt as though my animosity had always been the ramification of a forced lifestyle. I never wanted nor needed Pelor's blessing, and to possess such a parasite within you without ever knowing or understanding why is a prison of indignaton I could not escape, until now. I already felt great emotional weight being lifted from me. It was both liberating and distressing, as my freedom would be most short lived if I did not escape this "Shadow Realm" soon. As I walk the path further into the slowly entrenching inky blackness, I thought more on my past.

My father was sitting at the foot of my bed. I was eight, and just that morning I had fired an arrow into a passing songbird. I had originally thought my accuracy would be met with a certain eminence, however my father seemed furious with me. He immediatley approched me, ripping the bow from my hand and snapping it. The bow in question he had made for me when I was five, and it had not left my side in the three years it was in my posession. Tears rolled down my young cheeks, and he sent me away to my quarters across the stronghold. There I had waited all afternoon, hugging my broken bow, and missing out on swordplay with the other Griffon's children. My father had just sat down when he began to speak in a soothing voice, "Ridley, I am not angry with you."

"You certainly aren't happy with me..."

"My son, all life is precious. Every last bit is as beautiful as the rest."

"I was trying to make you proud, I've gotten so good with the bow! If you'd only just-"

"Enough! You killed an innocent creature!"

"You broke the bow you gave me!"

"I disarmed you of your weapon, and stopped your callow use of it! As I would expect of you in my position!"

I couldn't speak, tears and sorrow gripped at my yet innocent throat. I choked and buried my face into my pillow. I was ashamed. Not of the dead bird, or that my actions had broken my most prized posession, but because I had failed yet again to earn my father's appreciation. I managed to squeak out a few words between the small gasps for air, but they were muffled into the itchy fabric. He reached a hand out and placed it upon my shoulder, "speak to me, son. What is wrong? We can fix the bow together."

I turned up from the damp pillow and looked at him with red irritated eyes, "It isn't the bloody bow! For once I just wish you'd be proud of your son! All it ever is is just another lecture! I'm tired of being taught lessons, I have plenty of teachers! I just want a father!"

I lost myself in my somber confessions. My father was quite obviously hurt, and I could see the sadness in his own eyes. He had moved back a bit, as if unsure what to do next. Sensetivity was not a father's position, and though he could fix the broken bow, there was no mother to care for the broken child.

I withdrew from my buzzing recollections and gathered my bearings. I had lost sense of time quickly in my daydreaming. Had hours passed? Days? I had not even the slightest notion. My only means of measurement was the closing darkness now hugging the path tightly. This path had to end soon, all roads lead to a resolution. As my mind began to wonder again, I felt a horrid sensation crawl over the skin of my body. The tingling activity brought me to my knees, and my face fell before a small rock. I had only splinters of time left, I could feel myself becoming more lost in old memories. Is that what these wandering shades were? Memories of a former self? I gazed upon the rock in front of me, and it gazed curiously back. It had a startling resemblance to the Ruvaak Armoth had branded upon my chest. I reached out to pick it up, and with a notable amount of effort managed to pick up the ghostly object. My mind fancied images of the Obelisk of Kraven I had seen in the dark temple. It had been tossed together with whatever rubble the peasants had. I immediatley began to gather as many rocks as I could, piling them into my own shrine of deliverance. As I placed the Ruvaak upon the top, I spoke to the obelisk in prayer, "Kraven, I don't know if you are a god, and I don't care. Pelor is no deity, he is a fool and I will gladly turn my back on him. But... I have encountered a predicament. I am not done serving you yet, and I do not wish to let a thing like death stand in my way."

A calamitous howl of what sounded like wind shrieked through the air, but no wind could be felt. The darkness closed in further, and what little color there was faded from this dreary world. The Ruvaak was watching me, I could feel it. It locked it's unmerciful eyes upon my visage. I felt his presence long before I could determine where it was he stood. I followed the icy chill in my gut and it brought me to the most ravenous smile, hungering for what, I could not tell. I was not sure if I should feel pleased or doomed. Kraven himself stood amongst the ghosts of shadow, and he moved so eerily onto the path, smiling at me with those divergent teeth. As he spoke, he paused between each word as if to gauge it's effect on the surroundings... and upon me.

"I see you have crossed into the shadow realm..."

At first I couldn't speak. Pelor had cast his silken presence over me, being near Kraven was like standing atop the highest precipice. It was both terrifying... and empowering. His icy voice crawled to me once more, with a tinge of boredom, "Why is it you have called to me?"

"As I said, I am not done serving you, Kraven. I made you a promise of fealty, and I intend to stick to it."

"And why should I help you? You failed me."

"I could have gone to Pelor, I could have accepted his light and entered his city. I had the choice to betray you and join up with those fools. I didn't, I chose this path. I chose absolute oblivion. That is loyalty you cannot buy in the entire realm with all the gold."

I could hear the crackle of a deathly grin stretching across whatever face may lurk under that black hood. He continued to contemplate the setting's reaction to his voice, "Tell me, what do you think of the gods."

I had begun to adjust to his presence, and I responded with a certain satisfaction, "They are a collection of prattling old imbeciles, forcing their beliefs onto those who are too weak to stand and say 'no.' I for one, would like to see them brought down."

The grin glistened, and Kraven pulled down his hood, revealing his unspeakable countenance. A skull would be an innacurate definition for the head still possessed a sort of life to it. The only determinable fact was that Kraven was certainly not human, not anymore. He gave a small chuckle, "The gods... well... they aren't really gods. They are powerful yes, but somebody created them, and somebody can kill them. You see, Ridley, these... these people, they are worshipping the wrong gods. They should be worshipping those that created beings like Pelor... gods such as time, space... and nothingness. You are familiar with religion, yes. You must have a basic understanding of the natural order. There is the Central Kingdom, where you come from, there is the realm of the gods, and then there is the shadow realm in between them. I seek to enter the realm of the gods, and it is not an easy task."

I could not help but grin at Kraven's insight. I saw not a deathly lich, but the remainder of a man, not unlike myself. He had seen the world that I had seen and so much more, and this was the outcome.

"I will show these people who the gods really are, Ridley, that is why I am here, but what is it you want from me? Is it power? Knowledge perhaps... dark secrets."

"I want time, Kraven. I want the time I promised to you." He seemed pleased, not with loyalty, but at a chance to use what I gathered to be a vast amount of magic. He did not hesitate to begin the spell, as he raised his hand before me.

"That can be arranged... this... will feel cold. Oh and do keep an eye on Nero. You and Armoth... get to the beacon, Nero will do what he will."

His definition was brief and innaccurate to say the least. As Kravens hand entered into my chest I felt a rush of pressure and sharp biting cold. My mind exploded with the sound of a roaring ocean, as if I were being pulled up rapidly from the deepest depths of the sea. The feeling resembled the pleasure felt after getting away with a crime or breaking a forbidden rule. As soon as the rush had began, so it had ended, and yet an eternity passed between the two moments.

My eyes opened. I had been brought back from the brink of madness. I sat upon Nimue once more, several arrows protruding from my chest as dried blood caked my armor. I ripped the arrows out and was about to spur Nimue into a run when I noticed a small rock obelisk only a few feet away. The rock sitting atop the pile was the Ruvaak from the shadow realm. Had it all been real? I grabbed the rock and pocketed it, riding off towards the nearest cave I could remember from Armoth's map. I had to reunite myself with the Tide, and continue towards the beacon.