Solomon Grandymire: Psion

In the coastal lands of Irtia there is an old folk tale shared from mother to daughter. The myth tells of the adolescent girl Milda, who goes against her mother's wishes by meeting with her lover, Hans, on the beach near Milda's house. The star-crossed pair meet three times in the tale, each time at night on the shore. After the first and second meetings, Milda's mother warns her that a terrible creature lurks in the dark depths, but Milda does not listen. On the third night, Milda finds Hans dead on the shore, and a foul reptilian creature drags Milda deep into the sea. The purpose of the tale is purely to keep young girls out of trouble, but these tales often bear small truths. The creature of Irtia's coast is very real; he is called Grall, and he is a dragonborn. Grall was a towering powerful figure even by his race's standards, but his intelligence was quite lacking, and his jaw slacked. He was hatched with a deformed left leg and spine, giving him a terrifying gait; the perfect creature to feed children's nightmares. Grall did not inspire the myth of Milda alone, however. For what would Grall be without his master Dreadustraszus? The cruel black dragon used Grall among other servants to collect mage women for his prison in Izer Reef. There his servants tested the sorceresses, looking for a rare type of spellcaster known as a psion. Dreadustraszus did indeed find his psion, and the tower of Izer Reef is now long gone, washed away by the servants of the dragon. Hundreds of women were tortured to death in that tower, and only one escaped with her life. Only she didn't really escape, for she is Deadustraszus's psion.

Grandymire is what they call the woman who survived Izer Reef, but her mother named her Asha. The name means hope, but there was little for Asha and her mother, Casslyn. Asha was born on the outskirts of the desert city Ridge during a time of famine. Casslyn was an assistant in the apothecary. Despite the horrible conditions she could still get most plants to grow, and used to raise grandymire flowers near their home. Asha's father, Solomon, worked in the city's gemstone mines, but not long after Asha's sixteenth birthday he had been killed in a terrible accident. Asha could remember the sound of her mother weeping for many years after. Everything changed when Solomon died. Casslyn lost her apothecary job, and with no income they could not stay in Ridge. They sold their belongings and traveled to De Calivaria to start a new life. On the road north, their party was attacked by our friend Grall and his fellow minions. Almost none survived the massacre, and Asha saw the creature Grall stomp Casslyn's life away. Barking and snarling about a "mage girl", they pulled Asha by her hair and tossed her into a caged caravan with seven other girls her age. Asha didn't fight back, she just cried. She cried the entire journey to Izer Reef, and she cried long after that. Her mother and father were dead, and she was alone. Nobody called her Asha anymore. There were no grandymire flowers blossoming in the spring sun, and no hope left in the heart of the young girl. All that remained was a number, number 496. She didn't want the number, she wanted her home.

Six years had passed since then, and the woman who survived Izer Reef was known as Grandymire. She stood in the main hall of Lord Dekarus's castle, north of Ash Lake. The hall was large, but not excessive, featuring a dark marble floor and stone walls. Several fireplaces along the sides of the hall kept it warm, and many hulking armored creatures stood like vicious statues. The handsome nobleman Dekarus was her master now, and it was useless to deny or resist this fate. Against what most rulers of Bandelore would insist, and despite his attractive human appearance, Dekarus was actually a black dragon of terrible power and malevolent intent. He paced back and forth along the reflective floor, eyeing Grandymire carefully, as if absorbing her every detail. The two had arrived at the castle from Izer Reef only a day prior, and Grandymire had been given a much needed bath and an elegant dress. Dekarus halted his pace in front of her, and placed a hand on her chin. She grit her teeth and tried to shake away his hand, but he tightened his grip too quickly. Pulling her close, he spoke with his exacting voice, "Have you any idea why I have spared you for this long, girl?"

When it took a few moments for Grandymire to respond, Dekarus released her chin and turned his back to her. "Well? Not even a thought?"

"I am a strong sorceress, you want to use my power." This was the first she had spoken in a very long time. Her voice cracked at first, then regained it's normal rhythm. Her voice was sharp yet traveled softly over the air like a bird's song. Dekarus seemed pleased with her answer. "You are strong, for a human," he turned to face Grandymire once more, and took a step towards her. "I do want to use your power, but not directly. You are missing something..."

Grandymire searched Dekarus's face for some sort of meaning, but the dragon was beyond comprehension. Dekarus took another step towards her. Raising his hand, he conjured a small fireball and let it float along his fingertips. He watched the fireball dance with a hint of displeasure. "You see, Grandymire, I have mastered every bit of magic worth using. There is one form of spellcraft I do not yet understand, however. The power of the psions. Have you heard of these beings?"

Grandymire had heard of the psions. Legends said the psions were beings who could use magic and effect the world around them with their minds alone, whereas a wizard must learn spells and cast them with specific requirements. She had never given much thought to why she was so adept at spells, but it did make sense. "You think I am a psion?"

Dekarus dispelled the fireball and laughed, "If I thought you were a psion, you would have burned in Izer. I know you are a psion."

Grandymire couldn't help but be offended by the dragon's laughter. It was as if everything he did was a stab at her character. "Well then... what do you intend to do with me? Train me? Study me? Torture...?"

"None of the above. No such luck for you. As I said, you are missing something. Something that happens to be very important to my plans."

Grandymire squinted her eyes at the dragon, hoping to see some hidden detail to this situation. "And what exactly am I missing, Dekarus?"

"Please, call me Dreadustraszus, it's no secret that I am a dragon. There is no need to use petty human names on me." He tugged on his robes, ensuring they were in pristine condition, and continued. "As for what you are missing, it's quite simple. You are not a dragon."

Grandymire looked around as if there was a joke she had missed. "Not a dragon? What do you intend to do about-" Then it hit her. She had heard tales, but she never thought they could be true. Dragons shifting into human form and having human children with dragon blood. Dreadustraszus wasn't just looking for a psion at Izer, he had been looking for a mate. She grimaced at the idea and stepped back. "I won't! Never!"

Dekarus dropped some of his charm in preference of command, and hollered "Shut up! Don't play the quivering princess, we both know you are above that. I won't force you into giving me a psion heir, but I will make the other options... intolerable."

Grandymire continued to step back, and shook her head. Dekarus stepped forward with her, reaquired his inhuman charisma, and said, "Just think, your child could be the greatest force to walk this realm! You and our child would be rich and strong for the rest of your long and healthy lives. Nobody would harm you, or stop you should your tastes grow more... draconic."

Grandymire stopped backing away. She was shaking, not from fright, but from the exhilarating realization that Dread was right. Since her birth humanity had given her family nothing but anguish. Giving this dragon his spawn would be a more satisfying revenge than anything she could accomplish on her own, and she and her child would be happy for the rest of their lives. There was only one thing stopping her. "What about you? You tortured me, murdered hundreds of women!"

"I wouldn't call it torture. I see it as creation. I made you what you are, I made you strong! Suffering is the genesis of capacity, is it not?"

Grandymire smirked, still shaking. "If I do this, there are a few conditions I want met."

"Name them."

"I want everything you have promised, health, longevity, power, and wealth. Second, the city Ridge caused my family great suffering, I want that city destroyed."

Dreadustraszus smiled, "I think that can be arranged..."

"Your servant, the one that killed my mother. He has a twisted back and a limp."

"Grall, what about him?"

"I want to kill him."

"That can also be arranged."

"Lastly, if the child is a girl, I want her to be named Casslyn."

Dread tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at what he found to be a curious request. "And if the child is a boy?"

"Name him Solomon. Solomon Grandymire."

Solomon Grandymire: Lesson Number One

The storm crashed over the tower of Izer Reef. Seagulls spun chaotically through the air trying to gain control in the winds, and seals were barking out from their rocks to friends lost in the waves. Deep beneath the urchin infested rocks and clam clouded sea murk were the dank dripping catacombs of the tower. In the darkest depths of Izer Reef, a noble sorcerer holds the destiny of two mage outcasts in his oppressive hands. Lord Dekarus stood over the bodies of subjects 115 and 320. The light was scarce, and the way it twisted down Dekarus's face concealed his eyes and sharpened his dagger-like features. He looked to the two remaining subjects, 181 and Grandymire. They were filthy with blood and dirt, and the sacks they wore as clothes were torn to mere fragments. 181 was shaking with fright, but Grandymire stood tall with a clenched jaw. For such a small beautiful creature, she possessed an impressive amount of fortitude. Dekarus's mouth twisted into a grin, and he raised his hands to his captives as he spoke to them. "As I have said, only one of you can be the psion I seek. So we will have ourselves a little game- no... a contest," Dekarus paused to let out a chuckle, "forgive me if I seem a bit animated, it has been quite some time since I had the pleasure of... testing two ideals. Let us begin immediately, the rules will becomes clear as we proceed."

Dekarus waved his hand again, and the chains burst from the captives' wrists, causing Grandymire to flinch and 181 to fall to the floor. Keeping his hand clenched in the air, Dekarus moved the struggling mages to opposing ends of the chamber with unseen forces. Once the two women were in place, Dekarus chanted a few words of power, finishing his incantation with several complicated gestures. With the last word of his spell, two large round glowing sigils appeared beneath the women. 181 and Grandymire were forced to their feet, and the spell held them in place above the seal. Pleased with his exemplary casting, Dekarus spoke again. "The rune beneath your feat will hold you in place. More importantly, it will greatly inhibit any arcane powers you possess. Only a psion will be able to truly break the seal."

181 spoke out nervously, "What do we do then?"

Dekarus laughed, "You really don't know? You have to kill one another, of course. The survivor will be my psion. Oh, and you have three minutes, starting now. If neither of you succeed, you both die."

181 gave pause, stuttering as if she didn't understand what Dekarus had just said.  She panicked, and fell to her knees examining the seal, trying to decipher how the spell was woven. Grandymire remained calm, standing rooted in her position, focusing intently on 181. She didn't care how the spell was woven, she didn't plan on disenchanting it. As the time ticked away 181 began sobbing in her frustration as she attempted to understand Lord Dekarus's spell. She followed every line of the rune, searching for a weakness in the casting, but found none. Every few moments 181 would glance up at Grandymire and see her intense focus, her complete lack of concern.

Dekarus paced around the room the whole while, quite pleased with himself. "Hurry, now. Time is almost up." Between her sobs, 181 called out to Grandymire, "496, please! Please don't do this, I beg you!"

A droplet of sweat fell down Grandymire's face, and she relaxed her body and stood up straight, as if giving up. As 181 began to relax as well, Grandymire said, "I'm sorry, 181, but you were dead the moment you entered this room." She waved her hand across the ground and roared, sending a huge crack through both the ground and Dekarus's seal, ending the enchantment. Free from imprisonment, Grandymire waved her hand twice more, petrifying and then shattering subject 181. Dekarus let out a malicious laugh at the sight of it. "Excellent! You are a psion! How perfect."

Grandymire turned to Dekarus and tried to slay him next. She let loose a spray of fire from her fingertips, engulfing Dekarus but doing no harm. Then Dekarus was gone, appearing behind Grandymire. He placed a hand on her shoulder, quickly said a few words in the language of dragons, and she fell unconscious. "You are a feisty little mage, aren't you? No matter, you will learn your place soon enough."

Dekarus walked to the chamber door, ended his muffling spell, and swung open the door. Parius had been leaning close to the door, trying to eavesdrop. Dekarus kicked the scrawny mage aside and spoke to Larker, who was standing several feet down the hall. "Congratulations to you, Larker. Grandymire is the psion I have been waiting for. You have done well, and I release you and all the other mages here from my service..."

"What- I... I don't know what to say, Lord Dekarus! Thank you, I am so glad that you have found your psion-"

"...permanently"

Larker seemed confused, and he looked around as if the answer might lay somewhere near by. "I beg your pardon?"

"I release you from my service permanently."

Parius began to voice several complaints, and Larker backed away from Dekarus, shaking his head in disbelief. He had been used. As he backed away, he bumped into a large armored creature behind him. Horrified, he turned to see a hulking black dragonborn looking down at him, followed by several more dragonborn. The massive creature grabbed Larker by the head and twisted. The Lead Practitioner's head popped off like the blossom of a dandelion, and rolled along the floor towards Parius, who was now screaming. Dekarus laughed, and roared to his minions. "Grab the psion. Kill the rest! Leave no stone left of this tower!"

Lord Dekarus climbed the stairways of the tower of Izer Reef for the last time. Armored dragonborn were everywhere, slaughtering the exiled mages and their captors. Fires had already been lit, and the tower burned around Dekarus as he emerged onto the roof, followed by a dragonborn carrying Grandymire. Dekarus smiled, showing a grin filled with sharp teeth. Dekarus's eyes glowed green, black scales tore from his human flesh, and horns grew out from his temples. His body lurched and grew, twisting and expanding into the shape of a colossal black dragon. The dragonborn minion knelt and bowed his head. "My Lord, Dreadustraszus."

The dragon named Dreadustraszus growled in return, picking up Grandymire in his claws as he spoke, "You have served me well, wyrmling, and you shall remain here to ensure the tower crumbles to dust."

Dreadustraszus leapt into the air and soared into the storm, unaffected by the powerful winds. The dragonborn and mages were left to burn and die in the tower of Izer Reef. The tower crumbled into the sea, leaving nothing behind but sour grief and painful memories. Now the black dragon had his psion, and his plans could unfold.

Solomon Grandymire: On Subject 496

August 17th, 797, Current Age

My experiments began early today. We started before dawn, hauling the prodigy women from their cells in the dungeons to the lower catacombs. They still have not been fed, and Parius will be continuing the experiments throughout the night. I must admit that I am beginning to feel the weight of what we are doing here. At first I told myself it was all for the advancement of the arcane arts, but I can no longer justify these atrocities. Subjects 347 through 429 of batch 13 perished today. They did not die easy deaths. Despite everything, I am concerned that we still have not found the psion Lord Dekarus is searching for.

There is one that I have high hopes for, a young woman, subject 496. She shows an incredible capacity for spellcraft, learning and adapting the spells we give her at an alarming rate. We have begun testing her separately from the others, as her castings have gotten progressively more volatile. Dekarus was hoping to avoid chaos sorcery, but 496 cannot be easily ignored. She continues to rebel, however. She refuses to follow basic commands and simply chooses to submit to further torture. One thing that bothers me is that she insists her name is "Grandymire". We have instilled in all the other women that their name is their number, but 496 refuses to follow suit. This appeared to be basic rebellion until I learned about the grandymire flower. The plant is used by witches in death rituals, and alchemical lore often refers to the plant as the "essence of wrath". After reading many texts on the subject I was not just disturbed but overwhelmed with an unnatural anxiety. I pray she is the psion Dekarus is looking for, so that my nightmare may end.
I wonder, when this is all over, can we look back at what we have "accomplished" and still call ourselves men? Or has this been the very undoing of integrity?
Lead Practitioner Larker shut his leather bound journal and rubbed his wrinkled temples. The storm outside couldn't possibly be louder, and it did nothing but agonize his headache. All his long life he had never been plagued by the damn head pains and now he rarely felt release from their clutch. Letting loose a wheezing groan, he left his writing desk and limped to the bed of his small chamber. The architect who designed the tower of Izer Reef did not make it to be comfortable. Often times Larker thought the tower was not only a prison for the renegade mages but for their wizard jailers as well. Larker laid down upon his bed, and shut his eyes out of habit, for he knew sleep would never come. Only a few minutes into his rest, a rapid and strained knock fell on his door. "Enter," he called.

The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing Second Practitioner Parius. The stalky pale man bore the appearance of the archetype necromancer. Larker found his presence abhorrent, and he had suspicions that Lord Dekarus only had Parius sent to Izer Reef to keep watch on him. However, Parius was not the only terror behind the door, for as he stepped in so too did Lord Dekarus himself. Larker nearly choked as he saw the authoritative figure of Dekarus looming over his chamber bed. Dekarus spoke, cool and calm yet commanding with unseen ascendancy, "Greetings, Larker. Apologies for disturbing you, I am aware that the hour is late."

Larker's mouth opened and closed silently as he searched for the most respectful words, "You are early! I am most... I am most pleased, Lord Dekarus!"

"Yes, yes... pleased. Well, come, I wish to examine your progress."

Dekarus was sinister enough, but the way Parius stood sniveling behind him with his twisted sneer made the entire situation all the more terrifying. Larker stood as quickly as his brittle bones would allow, and followed Dekarus out into the cold halls. The stone passageways were soaked from the rain violently pouring in through the tall arched windows. Streams of flood water followed the trio all the way down the spiral staircases into the lower catacombs. The screams and wails of the imprisoned women followed as well, and Larker tightly shut his eyes in a failed attempt to ignore them. Dekarus and Parius were not bothered at all by the environment. Eventually Larker forced conversation to distract himself. "Lord Dekarus, why is it that you are here so early and without notice? The journey to Irtia from Durbalad is not one made lightly!"

"I had business in Ridge. Crossing Izer Reef during the return journey was ideal."

Parius found the need to add to the conversation, and said obnoxiously, "What does it matter, Lord Dekarus can visit as he pleases! It is not as if we have anything to hide."

Larker could not help but give Parius a contrite look. "Boy, keep your nose in it's proper place."

Dekarus, to Larker's surprise and relief, let out a chuckle. "The old man is right, Parius, blessings fall from your mouth far too easily for them to bear meaning." As the conversation met its end, Parius scowled at Larker, and the old man knew he might regret his comment later. 
From there, Dekarus's tour took its usual route. He walked the catacombs and examined the potentials first. It always turned out the same, with much head shaking and disappointed lecturing. Afterwords, Dekarus would view Larker's and Parius's methods in the torture chamber. Here Parius far surpassed Larker, and Dekarus commended his imagination. Lastly, the three would view the list of ideals; women that Larker and Parius agreed could be the psion. Larker never said it aloud, but reviewing the ideals always seemed to be Dekarus's favorite part of the tour. It started as it always did, Parius led the women into the examination chamber and chained them to the walls, and Dekarus politely asked to be left alone with them.

Tonight there were four on the list of ideals. Subject 115, 181, 320, and subject 496. The women were all of similar age, except for 320, who looked so young she may have not begun bleeding. The low round chamber had no torches. The only light came from the storm's lightning through a grate in the ceiling, which now poured water into a similar floor grate. Blood of the failed ideals marked the floor, and Dekarus slowly crossed over the stains towards the four mages. He began by waving his hand towards the chamber door, and all sound from beyond became muffled. After the spell, the only sounds left in the room were the sobbing of the girls, the fall of the rain, and the tapping of Dekarus's boots as he walked.

"So... there are four of you. Let us begin." The lord stepped to subject 115 and grabbed her face, examining her as if purchasing a horse. "Tsk, no you will not do. I've seen street whores with better faces." And he stepped to 181, examining her as well. "You, perhaps. You are certainly one of the prettier ones I have seen, but we will wait and see if you even possess arcane blood." Dekarus barely spent a moment with 320, after a single look he said "Far too young," and moved onto the last subject, Grandymire.

Grandymire's black hair fell in front of her face, and as Dekarus approached, he moved to push it aside. 496 didn't hesitate to respond, "I wouldn't do that."

"What? Perhaps you don't understand, you are worthless. I am here to give your life meaning. So, let us try this again." Dekarus pushed Grandymire's hair aside and held her face. She was beautiful despite the mud and blood coating her face. Dekarus smirked, "Well, it appears we have two ideals, not four," and he took a step back, waved his hand, and 115 and 320 fell from their bindings onto the floor, dead.

Dekarus smiled cruelly. "Now, let's begin the exam."

Ridley Paradis: Skeptic on the Homefront

Darius saw the fright in Ridley's eyes as he read the last passage of Might of Fire's sixth chapter. He stopped reading and sighed as he looked out at the cool night. Shutting the book, he turned to his five year old son and said, "Perhaps it's time for bed then? We can find out what happens to Sir Beorn and his dragon foe tomorrow night."

"No, daddy! Please one more chapter?"

Darius laughed and set the book on the nightstand. "Oh, Ridley! You're terrified, if I read one more word you won't sleep a wink. Don't worry, the book isn't going anywhere." Darius stood from Ridley's bed and kissed him on his brow, ruffling his hair. He started for the door, but Ridley called out after him, pale and shaking, "Daddy?"

"Yes, son?"

"Dragons... they aren't real, are they? Like in the stories?"

"Well, Ridley, they are called stories for a reason, no? Get some sleep, son, I love you"

"Love you, dad!"

Ridley pulled the blankets tight around himself and shivered. Dragons were awful sounding things. Fire-breathing lizards the size of castles, with skin of diamond scales and claws of scimitars, taking flight into the sky on vast wings. Dad was right, dragons were just legends! The stuff of fairy tales... and nightmares.
"Rid-lee! Pa-chi home, mas adelante," cried the boy named Pa-chi. Ridley responded with aggravation, "Pa-chi, speak common or don't speak at all!"

Pa-chi had been leading the wounded Ridley for almost an hour when he spotted the village up ahead. Little had occurred during their long walk, but from their current position Ridley could now see the immense mountain at the center of what he assumed was an island. What was more interesting was the smoke billowing from the mountaintop, was it a dormant volcano? Ridley pushed the thought aside as he saw Pa-chi's home, and his shoulders slumped. A fishing village was an overstatement for the tribal backwater home. A few dozen hide huts surrounding a single large wooden temple sit before Pa-chi and Ridley, nestled in a small bay. No ships or docks could be seen, the largest boats were minor fishing rafts. If there was a way off this island, it was not in this village. Ridley grabbed Pa-chi by his shoulders and shook him, shouting "Pa-chi! I need to get OFF this island! I need a SHIP. Where can I find a SHIP?"

Pa-chi let out a whimper as he squirmed frightfully. Ridley didn't care, and tightened his grip on the boy's shoulders until he was certain something was breaking. He heard footsteps from the jungle thicket and released Pa-chi, who fell to the ground crying, and raised his fists for a fight. Several warriors brandishing flimsy spears and hide shields pounced out at the bone knight. Just when Ridley thought they would attack, an old man stepped out from the trees and got between Ridley and the tribesman. The man had a long white beard that fell down in two separate braids. Many bones were woven into his mane, and his robes were dark with skeletal artwork embroidered in. He held a large spined staff so old and worn it looked to be made of questionable materials, but Ridley guessed it was the spine of a dangerous creature. When the old man spoke with his low raspy voice, Ridley was elevated to hear that he spoke common. "Hold my brothers, do not attack this man."

Two of the tribesman questioned their elder in their native language, but the old man raised his hand slowly and they wisely held their tongues. The man continued speaking, "Look at this man. Look at his armor and tell me, does he not bear a resemblance to the one from the old scripture? The beast from the sea... the lord of bones."

The warriors looked back and forth to each other, and back to Ridley. They backed away cautiously, with fear now beginning to show in their eyes. Ridley had no idea what the elder was talking about, but he found enjoyment in the reaction it had on his soldiers. Now the old man approached Ridley, and placed a hand on his ribbed breastplate. "Come now, young man, tell me your name."

Ridley gave a quick glance at Pa-chi, wiping tears from his eyes, before answering. "My name is Ridley."

"Ridley? Hm," the old man closed his eyes, and oddly appeared to question the taste of the name. "Ridley... would you join me in our Temple of Daghaz? You there, take Pa-chi back to his hut. The rest of you, back to the village."

Without waiting for Ridley's answer, the old man turned towards the village and started walking. Ridley caught up with the man, and neither of them spoke until all the warriors had cleared. Continuing to walk slowly towards the temple, the old man started first, "Ridley, where have you come from?"

"As far as you're concerned? The sea. Before that is my business."

The man laughed, "Amusing, and why are you here? In this village?"

"I need a ship."

"A ship? Or simply a means to leave? I can provide one... but not the other." Ridley glared at the old man, who raised an eyebrow in return. He knew more than he was letting on, and Ridley wasn't in the mood for games. "Okay, old man, what's the story? Are you a wizard? Necromancer- forget all that, I don't care. Can you get me out of here or not?"

"Firstly, my name is Sindos, not old man. I am... a mage of sorts, I prefer shaman. I can get you out of here, but not for free."

Ridley stopped walking just outside the temple gate, placed a fist on his hip, and sighed. Gritting his teeth, he said sternly, "All right, how about this: you get me out of here, and I won't break you."

Sindos found this very amusing, and laughed rather loudly. "Do you stand at the gates of heaven and threaten the one who holds the key?" Sindos moved close to Ridley and whispered, to ensure no villager would hear. "Your threats mean nothing here, bone knight, for we have suffered too long to fear pain or death." Sindos pushed open the door to the temple, and allowed Ridley to enter first.

This temple to Daghaz was dark, having only a few small windows. The floor creaked eerily, there were no benches to sit upon, and no altar to preach from. Overall, the temple was outright disturbing in it's desolation. The only two things occupying it's space were a small immaculate sculpture of a dragon, and a golden scepter that glimmered despite the lack of light. Three women were kneeling in front of the artifacts sobbing, praying in different languages. Ridley's eyebrows furrowed and he looked to Sindos. "What is this place, Sindos, where am I?"

Before the priest replied, he hollered to the women "leave us" and they quickly exited the temple. Sindos then attended to Ridley's questions. "You are in the Temple of Daghaz. Here we pray to the hell god Daghaz so we may keep his servant at bay."

"His servant?"

Sindos seemed deeply bothered at the conversation. He swallowed slowly, and turned away from Ridley. "Yes, a terrible creature. When our sacrifices are not enough to quell his hunger... he comes."

"A children's tale, of course. A story to keep the peasants working and the priests lazing about."
"This is no fairy tale, Ridley. The servant of Daghaz is a nightmarish reality for the people of my village."

Ridley was hardly listening, the golden scepter on the floor caught his eye again. It shimmered with such bizarre elegance, Ridley took a step towards it and looked to Sindos. "What is that peculiar rod?"

"That is the Scepter of Adelos, for generations it has kept the creature of Daghaz at bay. Without it, the monster would come and destroy our village."

"Truly? Where does it get such power?"

"You don't know? Forgive me, Ridley, but are you not a paladin? You carry holy symbols, and the way you stand, I assumed- ah, it matters not. It's power, my boy, comes from the god of light."

Ridley's ears perked up at the name. "The god of light? You mean... Pelor? Your people worship Pelor?"
"Not quite, my people give prayer to Daghaz. I am sure that long ago we prayed to Pelor, but when his light could no longer protect us we converted. The Scepter is an artifact from a forgotten age, but it does help."

Ridley smiled wickedly, "Surprise surprise, the gods have failed to protect you. Your words fall upon deaf ears, Sindos. The gods were mortal once, but on their high thrones they have forgotten your pain."

"That is why I am not praying to a god, Ridley, I am asking a man."
Ridley knew what Sindos was implying. "You old bastard, if you think I'm going to slay this creature you-"

Sindos spoke over Ridley with surprising force, "Then you will never leave!" Ridley held his tongue. Sindos had nothing to lose, and thus had the upper hand. "There are writings, Ridley. Old stories and myths of a bone knight coming to usurp the throne of Daghaz's servant. A paladin... a fallen worshiper of Pelor."

Ridley stifled a laugh, "And you think this hero is... me? How quaint. I'm not your bitch to be sent on errands, Sindos. I'll find another way off this island." Ridley turned and walked towards the temple door, but before he left, his eyes went back to the Scepter of Adelos. Looks like Pelor left a dirty secret here on this island. That rod is tied to him. What better way to kill a god than with his own toys? I may not have found a way off this island, but I have found something far more interesting.
Ridley pushed open the door and walked into the shrinking light of dusk.

Ridley Paradis: Abroad

Ridley finished tying himself onto the druid, who now shifted into the form of a shark. Armoth was also tying himself to the druid's fin. If Armoth was concerned, Ridley could not tell. The tidal wave was coming with an unholy haste, and Ridley knew it to be the work of the gods. He called out to Nero, who was standing idly on the prow of the ship, staring into the maw of the storm. Had Nero just given up? He didn't have time to ponder the thought, as the druid was now tugging him towards the crumpled port side of the bilander. He took in a breath of air as the shark dove into the sea, just as the wave began to lift the ship into it's wrathful arms. The druid dove deeper into the water, fighting the power of the storm. Ridley was weak after the battle with the Kraken, and as his vision began to fade he felt his ropes come loose. Armoth reached out to grab him, but the druid swam too swiftly and Ridley was already lost to the depths.

His armor was encumbering, and his wounds grievous. The weight of the water so immense. His lungs pleaded for air, and Ridley could respond only with a gulp of salty water. Darkness embraced Ridley as he sank down into the cold lonely sea. His life did not flash before his eyes. No fond memories came to ease the pain of passing.
Seagulls chirped and bickered amongst each other as they soared over the soft warm beach down below. It was only just dawn, and they were having a heated discussion on what they would be eating this morning. The tide was up, so no clams or tasty shellfish would be had. Many of the shallow water fish were still asleep in their tide pool homes, and would not be out for snacking until later that morning. There was also the odd human that had washed up ashore. He hadn't moved for a few hours, and many of the hungrier gulls were considering going closer. One gull in particular had just soared down and landed on the human's stomach. She began to peck at the man's hard outer shell; he seemed bony and lacked any real meat. She continued pecking, when suddenly the man's arm rose and battered the gull across the breast, and it flew away squawking in fright. The rest of the gulls scattered as Ridley began to stir.

Ridley was conscious, but far too weak to move. He lay there with his eyes closed as the salty water continued to lick his wounds. His lips felt cracked and tasted of salt and iron. He guessed that if his body were not already numb from Kraven's work, he might feel cuts burning all over. Despite the lack of pain, his muscles refused to obey command. How long he lay there without food or water he did not know. By noontime he found the strength to crawl up out of the water, but the fine sand squishing into his armor forced him to stop with discomfort. The intense beach sun did nothing to help, and within an hour it was necessary to continue his grueling crawl towards the forest that lay not far from the beach head. Finally, he propped himself up under the shade of some foreign tree and let sleep take him again.

The knight awoke to a young boy staring in his face. He grimaced at the child, who jumped back startled at Ridley's awakening. Ridley tried to speak, but his voice cracked with lack of use, and he could feel salt and sand crumbling in his parched throat. He fell over choking and gagging as days old salt water splattered from his lungs. The boy stepped forward and knelt next to Ridley, and pressed a waterskin to his mouth. Ridley gulped down the fresh water hastily, eventually snatching the bottle from the boy and forcefully emptying it. He had dranken so quickly that his stomach refused the majority of it, and he fell to the dirt again gargling. The boy lifted Ridley up against the tree again, despite his efforts to resist. Ridley took a minute to breath in the thick moist air, and when his body began to relax he spoke, "you, boy, where am I?"

The boy didn't respond with words, but he pointed at Ridley, and then pointed to the ground.

Ridley silently snarled at the boy, "I am here? No jokes, boy! What is the name of this place?"

Again the boy did not speak, but raised his shoulders in confusion. Ridley sighed, frustrated. He gave the boy a closer examination. He seemed around five years old, garbed in a pair of tattered pants and some sea shells braided into his long tangled mess of hair. His skin was a dark olive tan, a color that Ridley had seen rarely on foreign sailors. This boy must have been from a tribal fishing village. Assuming the boy did not know the name of his home, Ridley changed tactics. "What is your name, boy?"

The child gave a large grin, showing his missing two front teeth. He pointed to himself excitedly, exclaiming "Pa-chi!"

"Your name is Pa-chi? Then I am truly lost, that name is of the North Eastern tropics." The boy continued to give Ridley a large smile as he spoke, and again exclaimed "Pa-chi!"

"Yes, I know, Pa-chi. You will stop now."

The boy pointed at Ridley and tilted his head. Guessing that Pa-chi wanted to know his name, Ridley coughed out a quick answer, "Ridley."

"Rid-lee!" The boy yelled excitedly. He again pointed at himself, calling out his name, and then pointed to Ridley while yelling his. Pa-chi continued to do this for a minute while Ridley estimated where exactly he might be. Eventually overcome with annoyance, Ridley yelled, "stop!"

Pa-chi froze with wide eyes and a frown. The boy looked almost taken aback. Ridley gave a long heavy sigh, and winced as his ribs seared with pain. Pa-chi's expression changed to one of concern. Noticing the child's desire to help, Ridley played along. He spoke slowly, using many gestures to ensure he would be understood. "Pa-chi, I am wounded. I need help. Will you take me to your home?"

Pa-chi's face gleamed with excitement, and he nodded so aggressively Ridley thought his head might fly off. Ridley slowly forced himself to stand, bracing himself against the tree. As he tried to leave the support, his body cried in pain and he fell back into the plant. Pa-chi gestured to Ridley to wait, and he ran off into the woods. A few moments later, the boy returned with a large branch and handed it to Ridley, who snatched it ungratefully. With the support of the branch, Ridley was able to follow Pa-chi along the beach. This boy seems to have taken a liking to me. Good. He'll be useful to me when acquiring a ship.
As the two walked, Ridley smirked to himself. The gods had tried to kill him, and he had survived. This would be a blow to their pride, at least. The gods were not all powerful, and that was clear now.

Ridley Paradis: Awakening

"Daddy, am I going to be as strong as you someday?"

Darius picked up his son and spun him through the air, "My boy, I think someday you'll be STRONGER than your dad!" He tossed Ridley up onto his shoulders as they chattered and laughed the whole way back to camp. The pair was as happy as could be. But not everything was okay. Fate has a way of muddling with all that men see fair and fit, and nothing is ever as it seems.

Black feathers swirled about Ridley like a rushing tornado. The line between dreams and the real dissolved, and an old friend arrived with a greeting.

"Hello again, Ridley... what have you done to yourself now?"

Though the face had changed, the voice remained the same. It was a cold whisper that lightly clawed at your senses, testing your resolve, and tinkering with your courage. Kraven stepped out from the rush of feathers, smiling as if he knew something nobody else did. Ridley looked up to the necromancer, panting from exhaustion. He stood tall, and looked into Kraven's ghastly visage, "I am sorry Kraven. My mind has been... torn. I did not know which path to walk. I have reached my conclusion, however. The matter will raise no further issue. Again, I apologize."

"No... no. There is no need to... apologize." When Kraven said "apologize," he said it even more slowly, as if guessing at the meaning. "Do tell me, what exactly has... changed?"

Ridley smirked, all was clear now. He had found purpose. "Petty ideals such as good and evil will no longer stand in my way. I will complete my goals, and now nothing of my past can stop me."

A rictus smile spread wide across Kraven's face, this conversation was one of the first with Ridley to hold his full attention, "Excellent... and what are these goals you speak of?"

"The false gods we spoke of? Pelor, Kord, and the like. I want to free these people from their tyranny. Why should any man bend a knee to their haranguing? You want them gone too, and that's a cause worth assisting."

Kraven's smile could not go further. He let out a throttling laugh, and faded into the shroud of black feathers. Ridley lowered himself back down to his knees, and as he was closing his eyes, a solitary white feather fell upon his lap. A raven's feather. A white raven.

A solitary light, shining in the darkness. Capable of far more than it's peers, but able to still stand with them.

"I was to be a Scarlet Griffon. I almost fell at the hands of the vile Ruin. Now I am neither, and so much more. I am the White Raven, the light in the dark. The Tide will glisten in my brilliant incandescence..."

Ridley began to laugh, low and quiet at first, but building in it's structure. The laughing continued for some time, and it rose into a crescendo of sovereign laughter as Ridley threw his head back and held out his arms in his blessed lucidity. The feathers encompassed his form, and at last he awoke in the temple of Kraven, back to the world of the real.

Ridley Paradis: Delirium 2

A deep breath echoed into the vast empty spaces of the temple. It's dark chill came as a comfort to Ridley as he limped along into the future of the mosaic artwork at his feet. The images had evolved and become something more. The color of the small tiles would now change and flicker, giving the image the illusion of movement. In the artwork itself, the Ruinous Griffon continued to slaughter innocents, now having activated a beacon of ice in a land Ridley did not recognize. Meanwhile, the Scarlet Griffon had killed Nero in battle, and now hunted Armoth and what appeared to be his bodyguard. All the while, a mysterious wizard watches everything from the shadows, planning and plotting. Lastly, there were glimpses... flickers now and then of a massive leviathan. Encompassing all the floor that Ridley could see. What did all of this mean? Was this all a dream, a vision? What foul purpose could Kraven have, filling Ridley's mind with these delusions, if it was even Kraven's doing at all. Ridley continued to wrack his mind with more questions than answers when he heard a coughing wheeze from behind him. Fearing the Ruinous Griffon had caught up, he turned and held Trog's blade high.

The Scarlet Griffon fell before Ridley. Half rended, heavily burned, gushing blood, the knight crawled closer to the paladin, dragging his glowing sword. Something in the figure spoke to Ridley. A glimmer of hope, maybe. He pulled the knight to his feet, helping to support his weight. "Come on, Griffon, I know not how it is that you survived, but I will not leave you to that creature." The burned man coughed while attempting to voice words, "You cannot... kill the goodness in you with a simple blade."

 "You are the embodiment of good?"

The Griffon spat up blood and winced at his burns, and after a moment spoke again, "I am all that is your kindness and empathy, yes."

"Well, you are not the only one here fighting for our soul."

"Yes... there is a monster inside of you."

"There is a monster inside of us all, Griffon." Ridley pulled the knight up to better support him, and quickened his pace, knowing the Ruinous Griffon was not far behind. In the mosaic, the creature had made it to a third beacon, and quickly rampaged onto the fourth. The Scarlet Griffon in the image had become wounded while facing Armoth, burned similarly to the Griffon in Ridley's arms. He looked to 

the knight and asked, "You are born of this place, tell me, are we in a dream? What does all of this mean?"

"Your mind is wounded, you are unsure of which path to follow. In your weakened state, the good and evil tear at one another to seize control of your body and soul. To say we are in a dream is not entirely accurate. We are in the very fabric of your mind. This temple is the representation of all the choices you have and ever will make, while not entirely accurate, it is a useful guide."

 Ridley took a deep breath and looked around. He could not shake the feeling that during his walk the temple had become uneven. The once flawless arches and windows now appeared ever so slightly skewed. Dark figures moved from beyond the stained glass, and the light pouring in now grew dim. When his eyes fell back to the path, he saw Nero standing before him. Ridley spoke to the wizard, "Nero! How have you come to this place?" The infernal mage turned to Ridley with fear in his eyes, "They have learned of my dealings with Kraven, Ridley."

 "Who, the devils?"

"They will kill me for my betrayal."

"No, Nero, there is hope. Come with me! Leave this foul magic behind you! We can escape this long and dark path!" Nero was lifted into the air by an unseen force, and the stained glass windows glowed with a violent, blood red light. A horrifying resonence echoed through the temple as Nero's mouth opened wide and fire poured from it. The heat gleamed from Nero's eyes, nose, and ears, and as his face began to char and bake Ridley cried out, "NERO! NO!" Ridley set the Griffon down and ran forward, holding out his hand. There were prayers for this, ways to banish hellish figures, but he could not remember them. In all of his paladin training he could no longer remember how to save Nero. He looked on in terror as his ally was engulfed in unholy hellfire. The blackening body convulged and cringed in pain, but it did not scream. The body continued to twist in agony until the fire stopped, and the parched corpse fell onto the floor. Ridley fell to his knees and picked up Nero's body. Before this moment he had not realized... since he had ran from the Griffons, Nero was the only man he could have called his friend. Ridley stood and watched, powerless as his friend died. A single tear scrambled from Ridley's eye and fell onto the corpse's head, evaporating instantly with a gruesome tsss. Though Nero was gone, the blood red light did not fade, painting the temple in it's vile incandescense. Ridley stood and walked back to the Griffon, picking him up and continuing into the temple. He looked at the man in his arms and said, "I know that look in your eyes. It is the same look father had, and the same one Pelor had after that. Are you going to lecture me on your dissapointment?"

"No, the guilt of your failure is torment enough."

"I grow tired of this pain, Griffon... my conscience is dripping with the evil I have committed. I have seen what I would become on this dark path, and I can only wish that I could turn back!"

The Griffon took a while to respond, "Remember when you were a child? Just eight years old, you had wandered out of father's sight on the Griffon encampment and gone into the woods. When you were utterly lost, you had convinced yourself that the forest path would show up at any moment if you just continued walking. By the time father found you, night had fallen and you had nearly wandered to the burning forest. Sometimes we can fall far from the correct path, and we become so convinced of our own truths we don't even know where the sun rises anymore. Admitting we are lost is the first step to finding our way out."

"Griffon, I will seek my way out of this thick and dark forest. I wish to be a part of the company no longer. Let us go forth and end this nightmare." Ridley pulled his skull mask from his belt, tossed it onto the floor and crushed it under his boot. The Griffon smiled and embraced his darker self. The two continued onwards, ready to face what at the end of the temple.

The mosaic depicted less and less of the Griffon until now only the Ruinous Griffon remained. Now all five beacons had fallen to the creature's wrath, and Ridley saw the end of the temple up ahead. In the dim red light he could just make out a massive statue on the far wall, and as he came closer he became awestruck by it's presence. This statue depicted a leviathan, a titan of indescribable abhorrence. On the floor before the statue was one last mosaic image. The Ruinous Griffon knelt before Kraven, beyond them lay the wasteland of what was once the Central Kingdom, fallen to the forces of the elements. Kraven and the Ruinous Griffon then entered some sort of portal, into another realm, begining the process anew. Letting the Griffon stand on his own, Ridley took a step backwards, shaking his head. "Is this what Kraven wants? To destroy this world? Send it into the jaws of chaos?"

"That is what your subconscious would have you believe... But can you see it any other way?" The Griffon walked towards Ridley, grasping onto his pauldrons for both support and to deliver the potency of his message. "Kraven cares not for you, your allies, or anyone but himself. He does not know friendship, love, or compassion. He is void of these emotions, and so he will not stop. He will  move from realm to realm do whatever he wishes, and you would be forever his slave, even in the afterlife."

"I cannot allow this to happen, how do we escape from this place, Griffon? I must warn Armoth and Nero!"

 "There is only one way out, Ridley. You must defeat the Ruinous Griffon. In doing so, your mind will be whole again, and you will awaken from your slumber."

"Then let us slay the beast and be done with it!"

A shrill, horrifying whisper came from behind Ridley, "You wish to face me...? So be it..."

Ridley spun around as the Griffon of Ruin grabbed him by the throat and held him high into the air. This vile creature, emblazed in fire, with eyes as black as plague, stood nearly a foot higher than Ridley as he kicked and struggled to break free of the creature's grasp. The being tossed Ridley with immense force, and his body crumpled against the statue of the leviathan. The Scarlet Griffon raised his sword, weakened, but prepared to defend himself. The Knight of Bones laughed that ear spiking laugh, "Do you think that together you can match my strength? You will FAIL!" The Bone Knight swung his massive flail into the ground, dragging it through the mosaic as if it were mere sand. The shards of rock and stone pummeled the Griffon as a volley of arrows, and he too fell backwards towards the statue. Ridley stood, pulling the Griffon up with him, "Charge him together!"

The two warriors ran at the Ruinous Griffon, and the dark warrior held his arms open as if to accept the embrace of their challenge. As Ridley lowered his blade to start an assault, the creature delivered a jaw crunching kick into his face, and let his fist fall onto the head of the approaching Griffon, sending both warriors once again onto the ground. Ruin spoke again, "Love... friendship...  compassion... these are the emotions of the weak. Only through fear and hatred can you ever hope to have true POWER!" He plunged his fist into the stone floor, and the temple shook and rumbled as several skeletal soldiers broke out of the ground.

"GET UP!" Ridley cried to his new ally. "Get up, Griffon! For our father, and our mother, stand and face this foe!" Ridley stood and held his sword high, roaring at the skeletons as his words went unheard to the unconscious Griffon. He twirled Trog's blade, crushing the bones of two skeletons, and sidestepped into an attack against another. Blocking several swings, Ridley backed over the body of the Griffon. "You will not have him!" Ridley spun into a whirlwind, vanquishing three more skeletons and harming the rest. As the skeletons backed off, Ruin whispered in a language unknown to Ridley, and the fallen skeletons came together to form a more potent foe. Ridley's eyes went wide, "Pelor... save me."

Ruin spoke in response before fading into the shadows, "You fell from that peasant's light long ago..."

Ridley scowled at the towering beast, attacking the large skeleton. His slashes did little against the bone, and the skeleton grabbed him by the head and pressed him into the ground next to the Griffon, sending Trog's sword clanging out of reach. He felt his face crushing, his skull could not take the stress that this creature was placing on him. As Ridley's vision went black, all went quiet, and he heard the voice of his father in his head.

"My son, I know that we have grown distant over the years, but there is something my father told me that I wish to pass on to you. He said this to me not long before you were born, upon his deathbed. He said you do not raise heroes, you raise sons. And if treated like a son, he will become a hero, even if it is only in the eyes of his father. Ridley, despite our differences there is one thing that I know. You are a hero, my son. You may fall onto dark and distant paths, and life may take you into cold and dreary places, but remember that one truth and you shall prevail over any foe. I love you, my son."

Ridley opened his eyes, the glowing blade of the Griffon lay just within reach. He grasped the blade, and it's light accepted his touch. Magical power coursed into Ridley, and he swung the humming blade upwards, casting the large skeleton's bones across the room. 

Leaping to his feet, Ridley charged the rest of the skeletons, twirling the magical blade effortlessly as it crushed the skeletons like a hammer. When the temple lay scattered with bones, Ridley heard a faint gasp of air, and he spun around. The Knight of Bones held the Scarlet Griffon high into the air. The Griffon, burned, beaten, cleaved, and choking, kicked meaninglessly at Ruin. The dark creature laughed maniacly as he looked to Ridley and spoke, "It is over, Ridley, I have won. Your feeble attempts to resist me have failed and now I will be free to exist in the real world..."

A rapid flick of Ruin;s wrist, and the Griffon's neck snapped like a dry twig, and his body fell limp to the ground.

Ridley screamed out, "NOOO!" his body convulced and twisted, he felt the good in him rotting away. The air tasted sour, and all hues shifted into a grotesque red. As he felt his courage fading, and fear gripping him, he stood strong. Walking towards the Ruinous Griffon, he gripped the glowing sword of the Griffon that now burned his hand. He picked up Trog's sword in his other hand, and ran at the Ruinous Griffon, now laughing at Ridley. "You fool, I have already won, killing me will destroy your soul and rock the foundations of your weak mind."

Ridley screamed a warcry as he attacked Ruin. His blades rended into the bone and sinew of the vile creature, and he fell backwards grunting.

"You know not what you do, Ridley. You cannot destroy me without killing yourself! It is FOLLEY!"

The Griffon of Ruin swung his flail with great wrath at Ridley, who struck the flail head with the glowing greatsword, and the bone weapon shattered under it's power. The Griffon screamed out as he drew a greatsword of his own. The clashing of swords shook the temple as light and dark collided in a final struggle for domination over a single mortal. The temple began to fall apart, and the two 

warriors dodged and sidestepped as pieces of ceiling fell down between them. Ruin swung heavily with his blade, and Ridley caught it in the crossguard of Trog's sword, and swung at the dark blade with his other sword. The Ruinous Griffon's second weapon exploded with a resounding boom, and he fell back onto the rubble.

"If you kill me, Ridley, it is over for you. You cannot live without a soul! Look what this battle is doing to your mind!"

"You set me on this path, Ruin. You led me away from the Scarlet Griffon's and into the company of Kraven. You have given me freedom. Now you are no longer necessary..."

Ridley raised his two blades and slashed at the dark Griffon violently, over and over sending gore and guts across the temple as the walls, floors and supports collapsed completely. The dark creature howled and squeeled in agony as it felt it's life ending, and Ridley too felt a burning darkness enshroud him as he fell into the void beyond the temple. All was ending, and yet just beginning. Death and rebirth are one in the same. Good and evil are two halves of the same being. With no need for such petty moralities, anything is possible. Morality itself holds mortal kind back from true power.

In the darkness, Ridley tasted this power. Black feathers spun about him as his fall slowed and eventually stopped. Ravens squaked around him, and an old friend came approaching from the dark.

"Hello again, Ridley... what have you done to yourself now?"

Ridley looked up, his vision blurring, he saw the face, and spoke the name, "Kraven..."