Ridley Paradis: Delirium 1

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.

Ridley Paradis: Prohibition

Ridley held the wet rag against his swollen face. The throbbing had stopped, but he wouldn't be seeing out his right eye for at least a day. He was now fifteen, and had been sitting in his father's chamber for an hour now. The chamber itself was nothing too impressive, but spoke of the man who lived within. Tapestries adorned the cold stone walls depicting many important events throughout history. None of these events were battles or victories, but peaceful negotiations and new beginings. Paintings of inspirational figures and wisemen filled the remaining wall space, leaving only just enough room for torch sconces and the one window above Darius's desk. The floor had a large dark red rug tossed over the majority of floor, which was even colder than the walls without cover. The rug was undeniably ugly, but possessed incredibley complex patterns in it's stitchings. It featured many cubes aligned just right so that one could not tell which were receding or which were advancing. Hundreds of small lines traversed these cubes, their pathways and destinies indeterminable. Ridley's father would pace around this chamber in the late hours of the night and stare at the infinite viewpoints of the rug, likely contemplating life and it's mysteries. The attention of Ridley's good eye was now entranced by his father's quill, which danced atop it's inkwell in the cool wind whistling through the window. The door behind Ridley opened and was then quietly closed, he did not turn to look, but knew who had entered. "Good morning, father."

"Hello, Ridley."

Darius crossed the chamber slowly and sat before the desk, pulling his chair in close. He laid his hands out onto the mahogony and laced his fingers, looking at Ridley with concern. "How is your eye?" Ridley's response was limited to a short "hmph," followed by an agitated squirming in his seat. Darius leaned in closer to Ridley, and frowned to himself before he asked, "are you going to at least tell me what happened? Tanis Ginwulf says you charged that Blake boy like an enraged bull."

"Ginwulf is a lying prick, Blake struck me first. Had he not struck first I wouldn't have gotten hit at all."

Darius squinted his eyes and looked at Ridley carefully. Those eyes could defeat legions were they not in the command of one so noble. "What did Blake say about your mother?"

Ridley turned a small bit away from his father, and maintained his focus on the dancing quill. "Blake and Tanis were practicing their archery nearby during combat lessons. I was sparring with Samson when Blake came over to us..." The quill had stopped moving, and Ridley quickly looked around for something else to hold his focus.

"Go on, what happened next?"

"Blake asked to swap with Samson, to spar with me. We did. As Blake and I were fighting, he started to taunt me. He said 'come on Ridley, what's the matter? Afraid you'll hurt yourself and mummy won't be there to take care of you?'"

"Son, you can't let something like that get to-"

"He said more. He said not to feel bad about mom dying, because the gods kill all the whores... not just mom."

"Son..."

Ridley began mimicking Blake, "Hey Ridley, I'd beat you in archery too, but your bow is snapped just like your filthy mother!"

"Ridley, that's enough-"

"My mother would die too if she gave birth to such a bitch of a man!"

Darius stood tall and slammed the table not with anger, but with command, "ENOUGH."

Ridley went silent, and looked at his father with a small amount of shock. He looked down at the rug. "Blake didn't hit me first... I hit him so hard he fell to the ground, and he kicked me as I tackled him. I hit him again... and again... Tanis and Samson had to pull me away..." tears began to slowly stream down Ridley's face, and he angrily wiped them aside. He was ashamed of what he had done, but did not know how else to act. His eyes had been following a particular pathway along the rug, and the pathway now moved chaoticaly from cube to cube. His father let out a heavy sigh, "Do you understand the consequences of your actions? You have been denied early entry into the Griffons... you earned maximum scores on every test given, and you are denied. You will have to wait until you are twenty."

Ridley did not remove his gaze from the rug, he continued to follow the erratic pathway. He nearly choked as the word boomed from his throat, "WHAT?"

"For every choice, there is an equivalent consequence," Darius looked to the window with dissapointment in his eyes. He began to walk to the chamber door.

"Father this isn't FAIR! Becoming a Griffon is all I have they can't just TAKE this from me!" Tears were now pouring from Ridley's eyes, and he ignored the burning it caused on the right side.

Darius stopped before the door and turned to Ridley, "You're so concerned about yourself you have forgotten to ask about Blake." Ridley's eyes remained low, his fists were clenched so tight he thought his nails would soon draw blood. His father continued, "Blake's jaw was broken, and his skull cracked. Without the aid of a Cleric he would have died." Darius left and closed the door gently behind him.

Ridley's eyes followed the path in the rug. He found some comfort there in between the rows of yarn. He continued along his path until he saw that it came to an irregular and sudden end. He looked up at the window, a raven was nestled on a tree outside. It called to him, and quickly flew away to the North. Ridley wished he were the raven, so that he might fly free of his mortal troubles and be released.

Ridley awoke from his bedroll in the cave. More memories had been flowing through his mind. Regrets he had been suppressing were welling up behind his barriers, and now surged through the cracks of his dreams. He looked deep into his mind as he returned to rest, daring to delve into darker nightmares and find some form of peace.

Ridley Paradis: Patriarch

Missa watched the water flow around the lip of her goblet as she tipped it back and forth. She wasn't thirsty, and hadn't been since Cleric Jordan had spoken with her just two days prior. "Complicated" was the word he had used. She let her hand slip from the goblet, and as it rocked back into a steady postition her hand fell gently to her now surging belly. "My baby is not complicated," she thought to herself, with a tinge of anger. She carefully stood up, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she struggled to maintain the taxing walk to the nearby bed. As she laid upon the lumpy straw mattress she felt a pain surge up from below her waist. No, it couldn't be now, it was far too soon! She looked down in horror to see the bed dowsed in her blood. She shrieked in unholy agony as the blood crawled off of the bed, reaching for the walls and creeping up onto every structure, boiling and searing all that fell into it's embrace. A harrowing blood-covered knight of bones crawled up out of the wriggling pool of blackening gore. Underneath his skull mask two eyes locked with the mother's. Missa was now soaked in burning crimson, and as she curled up into a ball to protect her unborn baby, the knight of bones loomed over her, reaching a hand out to the struggling form in her stomach.

A deathly wail.

Rending flesh.

An abhorrent splatter.

A baby cries out in heart wrenching fear.

A dull growl hums over the sound of thick liquid upon a flooding floor.

Darius Paradis awoke with a bellowing yell, his face soaked in tears and sweat. He gasped for air, clutching at his armored chest with one hand, and reaching for his bottle of mead with another. His comrades around the campfire did not seem disturbed by his blatant awakening. The mead bottle was swiftly brought to his lips and drained of it's warming liquid. The fluid gave Darius little comfort as he fell onto his bedroll and began to sob. Time passed, and Darius saw the sun just begining to peek over the horizon. He crawled sorely and slowly out of his bedroll and stumbled away from his party's forest campsite, taking another bottle of mead as he went.

Darius blundered carelessly through the forest, chugging from the bottle in an attempt to drown out his pain. "My beloved wife, dead. My only son... my young boy... the god's mock me with his corrupted deeds!" He looked upwards at the glorious sky above, marveling at it's omniscient beauty. His negligence for the path ahead caused him to trip on a rock. His ankle snapped, and he hollered out in pain as he tossed and tumbled down a steep slope. Rocks, branches, and stumps battered and bashed his armored yet frail body before his descent ended with a vigorous landing on a large boulder overlooking a pond. Darius was still, his bottle falling into the water beneath him to join the blood that dripped from his head. His eyes remained open, flickering back and forth a few more times, hoping to see his boy just once more.

A blast of luminescence exploded from the river, shaking the rock Darius rested upon. The old man had the strength to look up at the source of the light. A man in glistening armor stood upon the flowing water, nearly nine feet tall with a blazing sun of Pelor on his breastplate. Darius spoke, his mind suddenly clear of the mead's fog, "Am... am I dead?"

The figure's voice vibrated across the water with immense wisdom, "No, Paradis, not entirely, but you are close. I am Pelor."

"Why does Pelor see fit to grace me with his presence now? Where was Pelor when my wife was killed? Where was your light when my son ransacked the temple in the Burning Forest?" Tears fell down Darius's hardened and aged face.

"You know of Ridley?"

"The mages from Glow showed me what they scryed at the temple, I did not tell them who the skulled man was, but do you not think a father would recognize his own son? My boy... my boy has-"

"Ridley has become lost, Darius. Your son may have committed dark deeds, but good still radiates within his heart. He has found calm in the darkness he now stands in, it is this calm that will lead him back to us. You can save him, Darius. You can save Ridley."

Darius clenched his fists together in plea, "But how?! I know not how to speak to my own boy! I spent his entire life trying to show him the path of goodness and honor, and now he stands a symbol of my own failure!"

"Every father is a god in the eyes of his son. Ridley, loves you, Darius, whether he wishes to or not. Confront him, not as superior or paragon, but as a father."

"How will I find him? I do not know where he is headed!"

"Take your Griffons to the Elven lands across the sea, to the North-East. Find the beacon. Wait there, and Ridley will find you."

Darius nodded, resolve and courage filling his heart as the light kindled his fiery spirit once more. As he stood, he grasped the pommel of his sword, remembering his old strength. Pelor held out a hand and spoke, "Unsheathe your weapon, Scarlet Griffon. Your son has become powerful in his separation. You will need my blessing if you wish to overcome his strength."

The father held his longsword high before Pelor, and the silver blade gleamed with illustrious light. As Darius lowered his blade, he looked to Pelor inquisitively. "What will this magic do?"

"Your blade will strike as a valiant hammer against the dark forces your son commands. More importantly, it will not kill Ridley, it will render him unconscious. So, Darius, you may not have noticed, but you are still yet on the verge of death."

Darius only now noticed the darkness of the environment around him, it lacked color and felt cold. "Are you to give me a second chance?"

"No, Darius. I leave you in the hands of your allies, your Knight Sir Ginwulf is on his way to you right now. He will take you to a Cleric. When you awaken, do not tell your Knights of what has transpired here."

Pelor then vanished, but his light remained as a shield to the darkness of this eerie realm. The light burned bright until help came. Sir Ginwulf found Darius's nearly dead body, and carried him back to the camp. Darius's mind couldn't stop racing over what had just occured. He was going to get his son back, or die trying.

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.

Ridley Paradis: Dissolution

We knew we would be outnumbered. We knew what we were walking into. Perhaps we had been overconfident. Had we grown naive in the reverence of our own capacity? As I sat upon Nimue, grimacing at the "thunk thunk" of arrows breaking through my plate, I reflected on recent memories and past mistakes. My life now seemed a mercurial flash of moments and paltry details of a meaningless existence. My eyes were weighed down as I endured through the pain, my mind struggled aimlessly to instruct Nimue to take me to safety, but I already knew what fate lay before me. Like cold dark water I was crushed under the weight of overbearing failure and regret. I felt the whisp of cool wind as Nimue sprinted out of the city. Damp leaves brushed across my already chilled face as my body fell completely limp. My ebb into the dark was completed.

I opened my eyes to the world once more, now pale and dim with a grim overcast. It was the forest outside Eastmoor, though an ominous film ate through the saturation of the world. I could see only so far before shadows entrapped the landscape. An unspeakable silence filled the air, the only audible detail being the dull whispers one might hear from an empty well. Nimue was nowhere to be seen, and I felt her connection no longer. The sensation was one I can only describe as a disconnection from reality. Only two roads saw fit to remain visible to my eyes, Eastmoor and the unholy forest. I arose easily, giving a sense of vertigo which required balancing. I moved cautiously up the road towards what I had thought to be Eastmoor. I had not yet realized my allies would not be crossing this way, ever.

It was when I reached Eastmoor I truly realized what was amiss. The gates were shut, and no sign of a battle could be discovered by my eye. No living thing was in sight, and I now noticed bizarre shades shuffling about the landscape about me. They moved from shadow to shadow, in and out of vision. They did not look at me for they had no eyes, but they were absorbed in my residence. I averted the sense of their gaze and looked instead to the heavy gate ahead. I called out, receiving no answer. I would have felt anger, but I as of yet could feel nothing in this cold setting. As I began to turn away towards the road, the gate opened, blinding me with fantastic exuberance. I sheltered my eyes, and as the radiance receded, I saw a most impressive figure standing several feet beyond my head. He bore the symbol of Pelor, and was undoubtedly the man himself. I felt as if a thin cloth had been cast over me at the very sense of this beings presence. It was an experience I saught to end quickly. A calm and warm voice not unlike my father's rolled across the distance between us. "Who are you?"

I hesitated in my response as I looked at the man inquisitively, "Ridley Paradis."

"Ah yes... Ridley. You were once a son of mine, but no longer. I am not sure when, but you seem to have turned your back on the light, Ridley."

This man's chatter rattled my ears as would a dagger scraping plate. I resisted the temptation to childishly cover my ears, and allowed him to continue.

"Come back, Ridley. There is still hope for you. Don't continue down this path of darkness upon which you feel the need to blossom. Allow yourself back into my light." He held his arms open to me welcomingly. A memory passed into my mind.

I fell panting before my father. He had effortlessly caught the blow I had sent angrily in his direction, and expertly tripped me onto the ground, pinning my arms behind me. He spoke, "Calm yourself, my son. What madness plagues you into these fits of hate?" He released my numb arms as he choked back tears that tried to desperately express emoton in his quivering voice. "Is it I who is at fault? Is it your damned father who failed to listen to the outcries of a motherless child? If I have wronged you, my son, please tell me!" I could not find feeling in even the deepest crevace of my heart. I felt undeniably emotionless to the situation at hand, nor did I feel the need any longer to feign affinity. I turned to look at him, and he held his arms open to me welcomingly, "son, have I done nothing but try and shape you into a man of honor, of conscience? Not out of a greed to have you as a proud trophy, but out of love and the desire for you to have the best station you could attain." I slowly stood and met him eye to eye. I spoke, "I need you no longer." I walked out of Colonel Darius's tent, stopping only breifly to look upon a familiar bow, mended at the center where it had once been broken so long ago. I shook away a thought, left the tent and mounted Nimue for the ride into Oakcrest.

Pelor stood before me, expecting an answer. I saw now the stark resemblance he bore to my father. Then I felt it, the aberrant animosity that had plagued me since my childhood. I fought to suppress it. Anger is what killed me. I looked deeper into myself for something more, something stronger. I felt so little, and possessed less. I found inspiration in a promise of allegience. I spoke out to Pelor, "I do not need your light, your walls, or your blessing. Most of all, I do not need you."

Pelor sighed, not with dissapointment, but with melancholy. "Very well, but I warn you, without my light in the Shadow Realm you will simply become one of... them."

I was already walking away. I would rather be among the looming shadows. I walked into the darkness of the forest, and did not look back to the city. I moved onward into what I expected would be my total dissolution.

Ridley Paradis: Introduction

Ridley Paradis was born in the Scarlet Griffon base, nearest to Zardossa, to Sir Darius and Missa Paradis. During childbirth, Ridley rotated sideways, and a cesection was necessary to save him. Ridley's mother did not survive the procedure, and Darius was devestated but ready to raise the boy on his own. Darius was always a good and loving father, if a little strict. In Ridley's younger years, he was proud and excited to follow in his father's footsteps of becoming a Scarlet Griffon. Tales of the valiant warriors would make any child desire the role. Ridley's childhood on the base got him accustomed to the feel of military life early, and he often played with toy swords with the other boys. Darius would often spend his free time teaching morality and ethics to Ridley, preparing him for a life of a Griffon.

"Father... I'm sorry.""

 Whatever for, my son?"

 "For killing mother."

 - Ridley, age five, to Darius

When Ridley was sixteen, Darius noticed a shocking amount of competitiveness in his son. Ridley would often take sword practice and games of combat too far in the desparate pursuit of victory. He nearly killed his friend, Aron Latric, in a friendly spar when his blade collided with Aron's neck. The incident was considered an accident, and no punishment was given. Later on, Ridley was denied early entry into the Scarlet Griffons at the age of eighteen for his abrassive attitude. From there things got progressively worse. Darius was concerned his son would never find peace, and two more years passed with father and son in constant argument. Near the end, it seemed that Ridley had finally found calmness within himself. The truth was that he had simply learned patience, and to contain his emotions for when it truly mattered.

"Why do all great countries need leaders?"

 "Because somebody has to hold all the power.""

Ridley... that wasn't the point of the question."

- Sir Cadius to Ridley, age sixteen

By the age of twenty-three Ridley was accepted to the Scarlet Griffons. He was an excellent soldier, though he never earned any promotions in his two years of service despite requesting promotion nearly half a dozen times. Tasks given to Ridley were completed quickly and accurately, though there was the occasional peasant's broken nose acquired "in a fall." Nothing negative was ever pinned on the young Scarlet Griffon, but his ambitious and voracious appetite for advancement hampered his growth and garnered the watch of the higher ups. Sir Darius and his comrades knew that Ridley was aggressive, but they trusted him.

"Rookie, what the HELL happened here?"

"This criminal was attempting to flee the scene of a crime, I took the liber-"

 "Just STOP, owing two copper in tax was not worth breaking that man's leg!"

- Sgt. Marshwell to Ridley, after a short street chase

Sometime after his twenty-fourth birthday Ridley began to grow sick of the rules and regulations put on him. He felt constantly held back and slowed down by all of the forms and courtroom shenanigans he had to put up with. It did not take long for him to make up his mind that he would flee the Griffons at the soonest opportunity. The only guarenteed getaway would be to fake his death, or to do the unthinkable and kill his allies during a mission. Any longer and Ridley would be willing to do anything to earn what he knew he deserved, even murder. Then came the nightmares. Ridley continuously dreamt of Griffon's dying at the hands of a dark figure, surounded by powerful mages. The dreams spoke to Ridley in dark tones. Even he had no idea of the future that now lay before him.