Can’t get these ideas typed out quick enough! No time for introductions, straight into the story!
Jonana, a Strong-Willed Glaive who Rages. The Crash.
Rytestra, a Clever Nano who Rides the Lightning. The Bolt.
“Jotana and Rytestra, Jon and Ryte… That’s what they called us. No, no… That’s what we called us. They called us The Crash and The Bolt…”
Drunk Ol’ Ryte was wandering behind the home of Dora Redmire, mumbling to himself as he was accustomed to do. The town drunk was treated poorly by most, but Dora took pity on the man and invited him into her home as often as she could. He never stayed long though, no… Ryte was much more at home at the bottom of a bottle. Sometimes you could catch glimpses into who he was before, an impressive flip of his bottle, a flash of light from his hands, a clever comment… but ever so brief were these moments. It had been several months since he wandered into the village of Ellomyr, several months since he had lost everything he held dear…
In his prime, he was The Bolt, a powerful Nano and hero of the people. He and his brother, The Crash, were a storm against the injustices of the ninth world. But as with all storms, they had to end one day. The Battle of Elements they called it. Helnika Earthshaker and the Flame Singers versus The Storm of Justice. The only one to walk away was Ryte, and he was changed from the experience. Scarred, mentally and physically. He had lost his brother, the only family he had in this world, and with him he lost his drive. He wandered from city to city, then from town to town, and finally from village to village. He started drinking, not to ease the pain but to bury the memories, to weaken his formidable mind. It helped, but not enough, never enough.
“A storm’s coming” said Dora from the back door of her home. “You sure you’ll be okay out here by yourself?”
Ryte waited a moment, untangling himself from his memories and staring at something that wasn’t really there. Then he responded: “I’m never alone… His ghost rides with me wherever I go. Reminding me of my failure.”
Dora Smiled. “You know Ryte, a trader came in a few days ago with stories about you and your brother. I didn’t make the connection at first, but once I did I told her who you were. She wanted me to give you this.”
She walked forward and put something in his hands. He looked down at it; it was a makeshift badge. The words “The Winds of Justice” scratched across its front, and a lightning bolt on its back.
“You didn’t fail that day, you inspired a whole group of men and women to fight for what’s right. They carry those badges to remember you, to uphold the ideals you two fought for. Your brother would be proud, and you should be too.”
Before Ryte could respond they were interrupted by Nieten. He ran into the yard at breakneck speed, barely able to get the words out fast enough. He explained the situation with the horde of margr headed this way. Dora wasn’t shocked at the news, more at the size of the horde then anything else. As she began to speak, Ryte began to leave.
“I– Wait, Ryte, where are you going?”
He smiled, a smile that hadn’t been seen in months. “A storm comes for Ellomyr. I find it only fair that one visit the Margr as well.” And with that, electricity began to crackle around him, and a bolt of lightning fell from the skies onto him. In the blink of an eye it carried him away from Ellomyr and towards the Margr, towards his end. But what an end it would be…