Rido's limp body lay prone six feet from the wreckage of their ride. Once back on Avishkar, he had decided to go around the other racers by cutting through a market street. Stalls and booths loaded with various wares went flying as Rido hit the accelerator. However, the other end of the street had been blocked off by a security barricade. The next thing he knew, another pair of hands was grappling the steering column and the world twisted violently.
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Dwine's parents had always told him he was born on the same day the last drop of water disappeared from their clan's oasis. Born in the final moments of their world, Dwine rarely knew peace or security. Once it was determined their oasis would never hold water again, their clan joined the numbers of nomads seeking that same resource.
Gastal was a burning hot plane prone to dry storms of lightning and dust. Dwine's father died defending the roaming caravan from marauders searching for both water for themselves and fuel for their vehicles. His mother would follow not too long after having refused food or drink for herself, giving what could be found to her only child.
Only when the roaming nomad clans were eventually whittled down to less than a dozen, were they approached by Far Fortune. Her offer was simple - join her crew or die. Dwine and the younger folk took her offer, while their elders did not.
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When the Omenpaths opened up across the Multiverse, Far Fortune took her gang of Endriders and they drove as far as those wormholes would take them. They traveled across a number of planes before running out of fuel on Avishkar. One of those was the plane of Alara where the crew ran rampant across Bant and Naya, stockpiling water and food wherever they could fit it into their vehicles.
One day, Dwine happened upon a clutch of eggs in a cliffside nest. The first of these had hatched and was calling out to be fed. A Naya Sojourner told the young man that Scavenger Drakes don't raise their young, they either make it on their own or they die. Dwine couldn't let that happen and took the drakeling with him. The young beast imprinted on Dwine and the man gave him the name Clax.
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Dwine had grabbed Rido's steering wheel before he could plow through the Grand Prix's security barricade. He had only been a member of the racing crew once Far Fortune had entered them in the GGP. He had been assigned as Rido's navigator, who hardly listened to his directions on practice runs.
Some would call him soft, but Dwine wasn't into causing pain and misery for the sake of it. He would suffer much haranguing because of his stance. Still he didn't want to see a bunch of bystanders get hurt. So he jerked the steering wheel and their ride swerved, briefly speeding up again until hitting a tree.
Clax, who had been flying alongside them, had lighted upon a market staller's fruit cart and was staring at Rido's motionless body. His master was moving slowly, attempting to climb out his side of the wreck.
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Dwine took in the aftermath of their crash. Rido, six feet away, dead or unconscious, he couldn't tell. Some bystanders were angry at the crash and the possibility of what could have happened. Others, clearly witnessing the state the co-driver was in, sought to provide assistance but were too afraid of the drake that had landed.
Dwine took all of it in. He could hear the race as it was being broadcast live. There was no way their ride was going anywhere. Rido, who never listened to his navigator. Rido, who always had a plan. Rido, who took risky shortcuts.
Dwine looked passed the merchants and onlookers, back towards the beginning of the street and saw a familiar light blue shimmer - an Omenpath. The man quickly dusted himself off and straightened his posture. He called out to Clax to come, follow. Let Far Fortune deal with Rido's antics. These two friends were going to explore a while.
