- Ridley ByrneMember
- Real name : Celeste
Aantal berichten : 72
IC posts : 38
Character sheet
Age: 29
Occupation: Jack of all trades
Residence : Seere
Ridley Byrne
Ridley Byrne twenty-nine Jack of all trades human Sebastian Stan playby Celeste | B A S I C Name: Ridley Byrne / HydraAge: 29 Zodiac: Pisces Gender: Male P.O.B: Nordshal, Navarre Residence: Seere, Rhoynar Religion: None Magic: None Sexuality: Homosexual Relationship status: Single R E L A T I O N S H I P S Family: + George Byrne (father, deceased) + Hydra (alternate personality) P E R S O N A L I T Y R I D L E Y : Positive traits: Kind, determined, open-minded, quiet, survival instinct, wants to do good, devoted Positive traits: Sharp mind, survival instinct, confident, protective H I S T O R Y Ridley was born in Nordshal, Navarre, during a particularly harsh winter. Food had been scarce and his mother had had a difficult pregnancy. When it came to delivering Ridley, the strain on her body proved to be too much; she died during labour. Ridley and his sister, who was eight years older than he was, were raised by his father. George, a farmer by trade, did the best he could with two growing children, but he succumbed to an illness when Ridley was five years old. From that moment on, he was raised by his sister Alianne, who, upon realising the farm would be too large to run between the two of them, sold their property and moved them to D’Auvignon. She worked as a maid to a wealthy family and was given food and shelter for her efforts. Ridley, being such a young child, was allowed to stay with her so long as he didn’t cause any trouble.Most of Ridley’s childhood memories are happy ones, despite the lack of his parents. His sister was a loving parental figure, who saw to Ridley’s every need and taught him all he needed to know. When he was old enough, Ridley started working in the same manor to earn his keep until, at eighteen, he had finally grown too restless within the city to remain and he took up a position on a ship. It was a legitimate trade ship running in between D’Auvignon and Brightwater Keep and his tasks were mostly manual, which suited Ridley just fine – he never had liked sitting still. He preferred making himself useful. He stayed on the ship for seven years, doing the odd menial task in various port towns when trade was low. During one of his stays, he was drugged and kidnapped by a group of men who took him to an unknown location. He was told, in no uncertain terms, that he was property now, and that he would fight in the arena whenever his handler deemed him fit enough to do so. If he won, he would be released; if he lost, he would remain. If he died, that would be that; no one would mourn his loss. He was thrown into a cell. The next day, he was examined by a healer and pronounced fit for battle. He was immediately thrown into training. Two months later, he was thrown into the arena for the first time. Though he was a capable fighter, Ridley only barely defended himself and didn’t attack once – he understood the rules of this place, but he didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially when they were in a similar situation to Ridley. Needless to say, he lost his fight, and was confined to his cell once again. The next fight, a month later, went much the same way. The next one, two weeks after that, idem ditto. As the months dragged on and Ridley consistently lost every match, some more spectacularly than others, his handler started to grow increasingly frustrated. He dragged Ridley out of his cell and told him he had better get his act together; his handler wouldn’t make any money off of his losses, and he hadn’t put Ridley in the pit to be ridiculed. When Ridley still refused to make an effort, the man had him brought from his cell again, this time to a room which contained a frail looking boy of no more than sixteen, who was trembling at the very sight of Ridley. Ridley was handed a whip and told to strike. When Ridley balked and refused, his handler told him he would strike the boy until he bled, or he would meet his death himself. Initially, Ridley wanted to keep refusing (what was his life worth if he resorted to this?) but his will to live, which he didn’t think he’d still had, took over. To his eternal shame, he took up the whip and struck the boy, staring in horror as blood welled up from the cuts. When his handler finally called him to a halt, Ridley promptly sicked up on the floor. Months turned into years. Ridley continued to be thrown into the arena and he continued to lose. Behind the scenes, he continued to be dragged in front of innocent civilians. He raged and railed and resisted, but once the whip came to him, he inevitably crumbled and did as he was told and beat them black and blue, no matter how sick it made him feel. This dragged on for two years, during which Ridley grew ever more unstable, suffering from nightmares and anxiety that grew so terrible that he considered letting his next opponent kill him – but, unfailingly, his survival instincts were greater than his helplessness, and he kept himself alive. Then, one day, he snapped. The person his handler had brought to him was a girl who reminded him so much of his sister that he refused to lay a hand on her. When his handler’s guards came to restrain him and, likely, either injure or kill him, Ridley’s vision went black. When he came to, some time later, the girl was pressed against the corner furthest away from, eyes wide and mouth opened in a silent scream. The guards were dead and bloodied at his feet, as if they had been ripped apart. Ridley’s hands were coated in blood, so much so that it dripped from his fingertips. He stared at it, trembling so much that he could barely keep his balance. His handler smiled approvingly when he came into the room, eyes glinting, as if he had been waiting for Ridley to snap all this time. As Ridley lay on his cot that night, still feeling as if he had blood all over him, even though he had been scrubbed clean before being shoved back into his cell, he had the distinct feeling he was no longer alone. There was a presence at the back of his mind, watching, waiting. Ridley could almost imagine touching it if he concentrated hard enough. The realisation sickened him almost as much as what he had done to the guards did – his mind was no longer his own, merely a place with its doors thrown wide open, just waiting for whatever had settled in to take over. When he was brought into the arena the next time, it happened again. Ridley blacked out, only coming to when he was being steered away from the pit by the healers. When he glanced back, his opponent was unmoving, as bloodied as his handler’s guards had been. He had won. He was free. The presence in the back of his mind was pleased, proud of a job well done. It practically radiated happiness. Ridley, meanwhile, had never felt more unhappy in his entire life. He might have won, but at the cost of an innocent life and his sanity. Once again, he was drugged. He woke on the beach of Brightwater Keep, chest burning with a fresh brand mark. The presence hadn’t vanished. Ridley left Rhoynar far behind him, settling in the forests of Nymmerwell, where no one would know him. He was still reeling from everything that had happened over the past three years and slept fitfully, plagued by nightmares and anxiety. He relapsed frequently into Hydra, which the presence had called itself (as it had communicated by means of images) frequently, usually during nightmares or perceived threats; each time he grew slowly more aware of what was happening even when he wasn’t in control. He quickly realised that Hydra thrived on violence, using any excuse to harm or kill other people. When Ridley came to one morning and heard a man had been brutally killed in the night, he knew he couldn’t remain, both for risk of discovery and for fear of hurting anyone else. Desperate, he went to Seere, where he knew rules were a little looser and people were tough enough to fight him off if need be. He’s been there for three months. T R I V I A + On his left pectoral, close to his clavicle, he has been marked with the inversed Ouroboros logo. He’s not proud of it, knowing what he unconsciously did to earn it, but its presence reassures him, as it means he’ll never have to go back.+ Though he’s absolutely terrified of Hydra and hates him for his actions, Ridley also feels a certain amount of affection for him, mostly because they can feel each other’s emotions and because he knows Hydra feels protective of him. + Ridley and Hydra can’t communicate in words, but over time, Hydra has managed to become increasingly adept at conveying images or emotions to get his point across. + Ridley has slowly become more aware of his actions whenever Hydra is in charge, though he’s powerless to do anything about it. + Ridley hasn’t seen his sister since he was taken; he doesn’t want to face her after everything he’s done. He assumes that she thinks he’s dead, which works out perfectly for him. + Ever since his release from Ouroboros, he hasn’t seen his handler again, even though Hydra has wanted to go after the man several times in the past. Ridley has always kept him from doing so, mostly out of fear that he’ll end up in the arena again. |
- Dacosta LaendaerysAdministrator
- Real name : Michelle
Aantal berichten : 599
IC posts : 46
Character sheet
Age: 38
Occupation: Queen of Fallen Skies
Residence : Archeon
Re: Ridley Byrne
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