Sparkstarter: Great Hunt Ravenflight

SPARKSTARTER
Ramman begins his battle with The Night Cursed Crone

Ramman was no hero.

At least, he never viewed himself as one. He was one to get a job done and to throw his weight where it was necessary. But never once had he called himself a hero. Yet the murmurings of his hometown had painted him as one.

It had been many months since he had returned to his farm. His father had passed away some months prior, and although Ramman had remained in contact, the emotion and feeling was small; at least that is how he had felt. Ramman held a respect for his father but a love that dwindled and where connection could have grown, distance flourished. The farm was left to Ramman, and Ramman had instead chosen to lease it out long term to a neighbouring landowner. Much to Rammans benefit and to his lifelong friend, Ezekiel who had been able to double the export of Rawlk feathers thanks to the additional livestock. And the obvious benefit to Ramman – a steady income of gold whilst he went on adventures, self-discovery and all sorts of risk taking he should have done long ago. 

Still, when word had reached that a mage had corrupted in the south – Ramman was one of the first to flee. He had been enjoying his time in Faline, hanging around Sangre Mar and Swan, as well as other faces and lovers of which the city was full of. Ramman had begun musing on an underground project with The Mar, allowing him to import strange and forbidden produce to be purchased secretly by others, and it allowed his newly feared mage like appearance to be out in society, participating in a community.

But Ramman still had community south. Any threat to his hometown and friends meant he must attend. It was three days travel to reach his hometown and a further day to reach the site of The Night Cursed Crone. He had seen many wonders and had been in multiple battles, but nothing seemed to prepare him for the heartbreak that he felt when he saw the beast shriek and cry out – causing mages to crumble with sadness. Already other mages were streaming towards the battle, especially an abundance of mages who conjured light. Under Ramman’s skin he could feel a static prickle, and as he observed the inky dark tendrils above and, on the beast, he could feel that might magic was going to be best here. Lucky for him.

Taking a moment, Ramman reflected on the then and now. Ambition was always within him, he just never entertained it would bring him here to a battle so willingly. A motto, a string of words or thoughts had happened to hill his mind one particular afternoon weeks back, and once again it came to the fore;

I will make the most of my one precious life.

With his staff grasped and his eyes prickling and streaming with magnificent blue light, his wings unfurled and in his hands grew sparks and bolts of lightning. Ramman would call the electrical pulses around and within him to help defeat the crone.

For today, he would start a storm.

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