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The hulking masses of stone and rope descend on the castle walls not just the doors. They dispense units to all sides and pick-off those trying to escape, to hide amidst the morbid gallery surrounding the structure. Surrender is not an option, the three generals inside know this more than any other. The archer, Levi, takes her place on the walls picking off the foot soldiers manning the battering rams. When one falls dead the next is eager and willing to take his place, knowing the arrow calls to thee.

“Get them off the walls!” She cries to the units down the line, as they take a more aggressive stance.

Watching as his men are struck down one by one with no apparent answer to it other than sending in another wave of human fodder. Davion cracks and starts sorting through the bodies strewn about the ground, looking for small arms which he then begins to throttle through the air aiming for the archers.

Levi ducks just as a broad sword comes flying for her head, and in an instant the walls below her shudder and the stone cracks and crumbles.

“Fall back!” Another of the remaining Generals calls to his men.

Levi abandons her post, and the knife thrower follows in tow as they disappear into the barracks.

“Are you so mad you'd kill your kinsmen!?” Davion's brother calls across the battlefield as the doors collapse and the flood of soldiers enter from the breach.

“Madness?” Davion calls back with a laugh as he sets foot within the walls. “You dishonor our Father, you give yourself over to a harlot! What daft idealism remains rots your mind, brother!”

Within the inner workings of the castle, where the throne lies the incantation has already begun. It will only be a few more minutes, mere seconds as the rift opens and the dire reinforcements arrive. The soldiers burst into the room slaughtering the guards as large demonic soldiers appear in the center.

Levi picks apart the soldiers as they come in, and for the first moment, in a long time the push is held. Davion and his Generals are riddled with fatigue, his men have injuries which they may never recover from the remaining forces are almost matched soul for soul.

Davion isn't prepared to throw another wave of of his remaining forces into the slaughter, while on the other side Tobias continues to poke at his brain. “Found your senses, have you?” He asks with a grin and motioning for Levi to be ready at the far end of the hall.

Meanwhile on the other side the Mage Merl begins a spell as men on either side of her have their shields raised. She raises her hand and the energy around her swirls and the air is set ablaze. The instant the fire erupts it condenses into her open palm.

Levi holds steady, with an arrow ready until the wall to her left absolutely explodes sending debris all the way towards her at tremendous speed and making impact where once she stood. Tobias dives out of the way just barely, as the knife juggler is not so ready for the wall to shatter and expand past his physical form.

Davion, mouth agape as he sees the pool of dark power and the demonic presence, “Merl, close the rift!” He orders his Mage as he dives into the fray. Swords and blunt instruments proved nearly ineffective against the four remaining giants.

Standing at the back of the hall, behind the rift Tobias laughs taunting Davion brandishing his blade. Playing the part of bait he goads his brother into striking, while Levi stays back hidden behind the throne waiting for Davion to bite. The four giants are slowly beaten down as Merl concentrates her powers on the rift.

Davion leaps from the madness standing face to face with his brother, a demented smile on the face of Tobias. However as two siblings square off and Davion twirls the blade in his hand, an attack to fast to avoid is cast and Davion is staggered by an arrow. It does not pierce but in that moment Tobias is quick to strike stabbing his brother through the gut.

Davion feels the life draining from his body and out onto the floor, as the rift is closed behind them and he can see Levi come out from hiding. Davion lunges with the absolute last ounce of strength connecting with a punch but not enough force behind it, it simply pelts Tobias in the shoulder. The body of Davion drops Merl has already begun the end game plan.

Barely separating himself from charging through the masses Davion blindly cuts up the unwilling participant in his madness. "We have a moment before nightfall, the advantage will be theirs!"

"Push them back, once inside they'll have no ways to advance!" Davion screams across the battlefield to his compatriot.

Even in the heavy winter attire, Jenks and crew were hardly prepared for this long trek through the Scandinavian north. Rory and The Morgan Woman take the lead mostly because the two of them are without fatigue, Jenks and Synth carry up the rear with Jenks beginning to falter.

Synth has been calling to her, staying in arms reach of her companion, yet against the barrier created around them nothing is getting through - Jenks is alone with her thoughts.

The body begins to feel warm, and the ring around her face from the hood of the heavy coat takes on the form of a window. The cold deep snow is gone and the window fades, the overwhelming wind is replaced with light echos of a summer breeze.

Synth is wearing a long flowing dress, running on ahead of Jenks through the tall grass heading towards a large oak tree. Jenks picks up the pace, almost feeling like floating on the tips of her toes.

Suddenly like a gust of wind Jenks blasts past Synth and turns to look over her shoulder with a smile and all the weight removed,

“Jenks!”

The sunken eyes stare back, blinking subtly and Jenks mouths out the words I’m okay. The three of them look to each other, with the eyes eventually falling on the Morgan Woman.

“We have to keep moving.” She says turning to face the wind again leaving Synth holding Jenks with every bit of concern.

“This is killing her...”

Rory swallows back to the hurt he feels for his friend, takes Jenks by the arm and lugs her up shouldering her weight. “C’mon.”

Jenks takes a stifled breath in, the cold air burns like nothing else and while her legs can barely carry her Rory and Synth pick up the slack. Jenks turns her head to smile wearily and whispers to Rory “I’m so fucked up.”

Walking swiftly yet carefully, sword in hand and ready to strike at anything which may attack from the shadows. The forest is like a crypt, outside the weather and sun is completely shielded from the depths of these woods. The swordsmen is accompanied by a young female scholar, who goes by Kay. The swordsmen Gareth, fills a role in this party of two, to protect and at the end should the job be deemed acceptable he will receive his pittance share. 

Gareth keeps an eye on as much as he can while he ears help keep his client in check with his pace. When she stops no matter how sudden or stammered his own pace changes in response. Luckily since they’d gotten further into these woods her expertise has gradually been dwindling, the main task has yet to surface.

“Miss?”

Kay turns her attention away from the ancient foliage and back to Gareth, “What?”

“You mustn't keep hold of me, although I find your company compelling if I should have to swing you would be caught.”

“Its darker than I’d read,”

“Books can only show so much, even so, stay close and you will have little to fear. I’ve dealt with worse scenarios in my time.” Gareth tries to convince her of the safety he provides.

“Is there anything we should be, worried, about?” Kay asks with an emphasis on the worry.

“I’ve only seen nightmares which have made compelling foes, what lurks beyond can do no worse than myself.”

Gareth has a folksy kind of way about him, even though she’d grown up in the country-side far from the larger cities he seemed to have the lingo down. Although to tell the truth Kay hasn’t learned much about him aside from the odd war story he muttered out on their way down into these woods.

If no one could best him, then it shouldn’t weigh on Kay the way it does. However men have a way about them, the bigger the sword the greater speak. Gareth may be an exception to this philosophy however for her sake she needn’t dwell on that possibility.

Their feet begin to sink into the terrain slightly, footing becomes uneven and the pace slows. Kay bumps into Gareth just as if walking into a tree, the man is big and unwavering. Nearly falling backwards he insists in so many words, “keep moving,”

Suddenly a break in the thick canopy of the forest after what must’ve been a days worth of walking leads them to their destination. Kay nearly blinded by the sunlight grabs onto Gareth with one hand while she shields her eyes with the other. He graciously leads her into this clearing. The sounds in the thick of it seemed to be gone, those noises of wolves and dire beasts completely lost in the ambiance of birds chirping and wind against the trees. With a circular break within the clearing it seemed to coincide with a small pool of water. A natural spring pond, crystal clear and sparkling.

“Is this it? This is it? This is the place, right?!” Suddenly Kay throws down her bag on her back and begins to sort through the many books and stray pages.

“This is definitely the place, but where is it?” She rambles, getting frustrated they’d come all this way and the object of her desire is gone.

Gareth sighs and wanders away towards the pool of water, it couldn’t have been any bigger than a small fountain. A large puddle he thought to himself with a bit of a scoff.

“What is it you’re looking for, Miss?”

“Um, it’s, well it’s like a, uhhh,” Kay trails off pushing her stray hair from her face and blazing through book after book of information.

Gareth chuckles, he felt at ease in this place, something about it is very calming. Takes him back to his younger years, where he’d play out in the fields with his siblings until they’d worked themselves into a frenzy. A pond was by the house he’d grown up in, maybe the nostalgia of it all is causing this content.

“A mirror!”

“This is hardly the place for that.”

Gareth laughs, seating himself along the water’s edge. Kay blows off his cynicism and continues flipping through books trying to find a specific tidbit that will give her the answer she needs. However in all the pictures and all the text it just appears to be a regular mirror.

“I expect pay regardless,” Gareth says in passing as he turns glancing around this small and strange clearing.

His eyes however drop down to the water itself, from within the reflection is uncanny far greater than any he’d ever seen in a pool of water. Not one to brag about himself - that much, Gareth smirks at himself in the water before turning back to Kay.

“The resemblance is better than any mirror,”

“Gareth?” Kay speaks from behind, a trembling in her voice.

Beyond his ability to react in time upon seeing the shock across her face, Gareth is hit by something hard. His eyes flicker and the shock of his body coming back online moments after, he’d never felt this before.

“Gods, what was that?” The swordsmen groans.

“The water, Gareth! It’s in the water!”

He’s picked up back to his feet, as if he were a rag doll and stares straight into the eyes of his assailant. Gareth unsure of what to make of this, another fist comes down on him and he’s again laid out on the ground. However now he was ready, and can counter the next attack.

“What?” On one knee unable to right himself Gareth finally comes to terms with his opponent. A man large and unafraid, built as if from stone, striking and powerful.

Kay stands on looking for anyway to aid her compatriot, the pond takes on the form of the one who looks into it. She’d thought it a mirror, something to study. It’s impossible to tell however if the two of them will make it out of this situation alive.

The second Gareth draws a blade and with a rash of raw force it swipes across Gareth from the neck down across his chest. This mirror has tremendous power, however as Kay feared through the ancient texts there is no good in it. In one fell swoop her knight in armor has been bloodied, his body wrecked and still the specter of himself stands ready to end the life.

As Gareth prepares for the final blow, his opponent standing over him ready to draw the last of his blood. Kay spots an opening and unsheathing a small dagger she leaps onto the back of the specter stabbing furiously. The second Gareth just grins, and brings up his arms to strike down at the fallen when suddenly Kay stabs him in the eye. Jutting the knife deep into the socket and recoiling her arm to strike again it lets out a strange scream, the blood and flesh are real, the pain is real.

Kay is thrown off to the ground where she immediately gets up to strike him again concentrating on the face. Slumping to his knees the demon form heaves until Kay composes herself for the final blow across the neck showering her and the wounded Gareth in blood.

With the doppelganger disposed of Kay is left in shambles, she’d never had to use that dagger for anything but opening tricky locks. Her hands shake and Gareth slowly brings himself up sitting and breathing deep. 

He laughs under his breath and then lets out a loud roar of laughter, Kay assumed he must be dying from his injuries. She quickly attempts to calm him down but he simply pushes away raising to his feet.

“I guess there are some things that can still best me,” Gareth says giving the body of his double a strong boot.

Character: Jenks Scene: Using a tablet for the first time

Having grown up impoverished, and swiftly kicked to the streets Jenks hasn’t had the pleasure of working with so much in the way of technology. She glares at the device in her hands navigating the surface with her fingertips.

Begrudgingly she presses the button as instructed and the screen turns on with a plesent chime which does little more than startle and upset her. Staring at the screen, bright and luminous Jenks appears disinterested and willing to set the device aside.

Groaning as she’s told to just toy around with it, “this is dumb.” Jenks responds dropping the tablet with a firm clunk and walks away. A hurried assistant rushes over to check for damages since the next subject is due up any minute.

Conclusion: Subject unwilling to participate in exercise.

-----------------------------

Character: Rory Scene: SS

Walking into the room Rory is handed the tablet, to which he stares at holding it up and inspecting it much more closely than the previous subject. However after what feels like a painful five minutes of simply observing the voice suggests he turn it on.

“What?” Rory asks while pressing everything but the requisite button.

The assistant comes out and tries to aid him but Rory pulls it away keeping it from the assistant. “Whoa! Just tell me what to do.”

The voice sighs then comes the instruction to press the button with specific details as to which. Rory does as he’s told, however the device remains lifeless and unwilling to communicate. Rory continues to press the button and shakes it.

A bitter response comes from the voice as it instructs Rory to leave until they call him back. The assistant tries to snag the tablet on his way out but Rory insists on keeping it pulling away again and running out of the room.

So I’ve been toying around/kicking around the idea of them being vessels of an old seal which was set in place a long time ago. They represent rampant and unfettered magic by humanity. During a dark struggle in which the world would be consumed they had to stop said dark by ridding the world of magic and magical things. Five of the most powerful mages of the time were tasked with destroying magic, but what happened is something of an agenda where those mages became the Ominous Ones through a pact made where they would consume the world’s magic unto themselves. This isn’t just cut n’ dry however, because they wanted this power, and felt they could control and be the omnipotent weilders of the stuff.

Now this is where I start to lose myself, once these five mages have sapped the magic from the world they essentially become the entire population of the planet. Magic was so engrained, children for generations learned the ways of magic, magical creatures, etc... All of these things would have been erased, the wizards then have to go about some sort of transformational stage where life has become lame, there’s no one left, the evil is vanquished, they’re the last remaining force on the planet. I’m thinking they undergo the process of become the Ominous Ones/Sky Lords voluntarily.

It would appear however upon re-creation of themselves into these floating husks that eons would have to pass again for life to take shape and evolution yadda yadda. I think during this time however whatever remained of the mages from within the shell long since degraded into madness, but not chaotic madness, more of a detatched madness. They’ve lost the ability to control their powers, lost the ability to communicate, to reveal any sense of their past and now foreign humanity.

*That would have happened however long before mankind would make a resurgence, when they had first assumed their immortal holds they could still communicate and move freely. Human beings no matter how powerful are meant to live this long, especially in what is essentially solitary confinement with 4 other individuals. I don’t think the condition is something that goes without issue.  (Spell check stopped working so I’m pretty sure there are spelling errors in this mess)

So yeah, the world would have been in a state of reset anyways and magic would be totally out of the hands of this planet’s inhabitants. However those 5 couldn’t turn down the prospect of being essentially god like minus the time factor. So in reality there is no great ultimatum with the Sky Lords, yet. They are however the embodiment of magic, floating along the sky as oblong shapes braindead on the inside and probably never to return to a human form ever again. I also subscribe to the idea these things are asleep when they start to be deified by humanity.

“But Remi,” you say “in the first story you said the Sky Lords have been gone for generations?”

Yeah I did say that didn’t I? Leads me to another idea I’ve been kicking around, they either find a place to roost because they completely die inside or they go hella high up because of some reason or another and become ultra small moon like things. I’ve been thinking I could take this to a present day type scenario where magic returns to people who have since replaced it with technology.

In reality though I don’t have a good idea for it, so ya, you caught me. The other over arching story development would be the lineage of Lady Etnia and her kin which would tie in at some point, too.

So far the weather has been fair to the good ship, the captain has made no deviation in the plan from 'ere to there. Some of the people aboard have come to amass on the deck and take in the splendor of the moment. The waves rock gently against the hull creating the beautiful ambiance as the breeze echoes a numbing calm.

Nary a cloud in sight which would bring any kind of foreboding break in these pristine conditions. However, among those on the deck is a Father along with his Daughter of ten-years-old. Raised up on the Father's shoulders and looking out across the sea as if unburdened by the presence of the ship in her field of view.

Full of awe the young girl stares intently while also clinging to her Father's head, but the threat of letting go is never there. She laughs at the small creatures splashing in the distance, and loves to ask just what they are. One such creature in the distance is described to her as: “A whale, they can be as big as your house.”

To which the girl responds, “No way, he's so tiny.”

“From here he's a tiny speck, but up close.” The father purposely trails off to let her imagination take over.

The young girl simply goes on sight-seeing unimpressed for the most part. After all it was only a whale's tail, it could have been a tiny whale.

A man shouts something non-discernible from high above the ship in the crow's nest. The daughter turns to look up at him unable to tell what he's gotten so excited about, but the father recognizes the words clearly as a man of forty-some years on this Earth. To this day these words bring with them the same weight they did as young lad when his Father had taught him about the different creatures with which the world is shared.

“Down, you don't need to be up that high to see this.”

“Nooo, I wanna see more whales!”

He can't help but laugh, as if this would impede her ability to see something she was wholly unimpressed by earlier.

“What's coming is bigger than any whale.”

Again the man in the crow's nest yells, this time to the crowd of folks below,

“Sky Lord!”

Suddenly that calm and ambiance is replaced by something on another level, the waters nearly cease to move and the wind drops off instantly. Along the horizon the little girl spots what appears to be something breaking the clouds.

She then ceases to fight and her Father sets her down on the deck of the ship where she clings to his leg. The creature is far bigger than that tail of any whale, this thing is the size of castles and whole villages. The girl is scared at first, her body shaking and a constant shiver running through her.

“Don't worry, don't worry, they won't hurt ya. Some people think of them as a good luck charm.”

The daughter removes herself from behind her Father and is determined to look the thing in its face. For such a large object it has no normal features, it looks like it would be more at home in the ocean than in the sky. No legs, no arms, no face and above all nothing about it is even moving. The girl found it hard to identify with such a mass lacking any personification.

It flies over high, high in the sky which does nothing to detract from its majesty, the Sky Lord. It takes roughly half an hour for the creature to be clear of sight and the winds to pick back up setting the ship back in motion.

“Daddy, what was that?!” Thinking nothing of a whale comparatively a Sky Lord is much, more.

“A Sky Lord, Abegail. They are the biggest thing in creation, people suspect them to be Dragons yet some others think of them as more than that.” Even the Father is rendered helpless to their mystery.

“But, but, it was so~oo big! How does it fly? How does it stay up there? What stuff does it eat? I bet it would eat trees and mountains and,”

The Father laughs and crouches down wanting to properly assess her excitement,

“Hard to say, the things are a mystery you know? Smarter people than you or I have tried to find out more but I don't think anyone has an answer.”

Abegail glares at her Father trying to digest his vocabulary, “nobody knows?”

“Nope.”

Suddenly the realization kicks in that this is something magical and amazing, “whoa.”

“I wanna see it again!” Abegail counters,

“No man commands the Sky Lords,” An older gentleman scoffs jokingly as he passes by the two, “not even your Father!”

“There's more? Sky Lordses?”

Her Father laughs again,

Her questions cease and she gets back up onto his shoulders, cupping a hand over her eyes to shield from the sun she stares straight ahead and skyward.

“Done with ocean already, huh?”

Parks slams his book shut as the force of his friend collides with him. Aya with an arm around her childhood friend's shoulder and a bright red apple in hand asks without hesitation,

“What'cha doin'?”

Parks pockets his book and writing instruments into the many folds of his robes, he didn't like for others to read his works. Quick to stammer and stutter or fold like a pair of pants, Parks grumbles under his breath something unintelligible before Aya passes an apple his way.

He catches it like a novice with both hands,

“When you stare down the maw of a dragon with its fire billowing out and the embers snapping at you – what goods a book gonna do, huh?” Aya tries to paint a picture so that maybe her friend will understand the importance of a steady hand and the power of steel.

Parks furrows his brow in vain before looking down to his hand, the apple she'd brought looks delicious in its crimson red skin. Parks brings it towards him and takes a huge bite, the juice floods his senses and the heavy crunching deafens him as Aya stands suddenly wide eyed staring up at the sky.

Parks turns quickly craning his glance skyward as a large behemoth flies over them, otherwise known as a Sky Lord. Turning back to face his friend Aya drops her food and spins running back towards town where the Sky Lord is moving.

“W-wait!” Parks takes off after the young girl while she tracks it from below. Ducking and weaving about obstacles as the two of them pass through the meadow back home.

A Sky Lord is essentially Dragon, a Dragon which never stops its flight and essentially governs the realm of the sky. There are differing degrees of beasts that fall under the blanket of Dragon. The Sky Lords are by far the most ancient and the most impressive. It's rare to see such a large creation coast through the sky and be free of the bounds of mortals.

It blankets the town in a thick shadow that barely any of the common folk acknowledge with any more than a passing glance skyward. Aya and Parks, mere specks below its majesty, two childhood dreamers chasing the beast past the edge of town and towards the coast. Where stone and dirt roads are replaced with uneven, uphill terrain leading them closer and closer to the edge of a cliff.

Even with its mammoth size the sky lord makes swift passage along the clouds and as the shadow finally leaves Parks and Aya remain on a cliff-face overlooking the ocean.

The girl takes a deep breath as Parks struggles to keep upright, well exhausted from the chase. Aya hops down off of a large rock jutting out from the Earth.

“I'm gonna see one of them, not from down here...”

Parks huffed and puffed unable to follow up with a statement letting his friend know she's crazy. Even if she did see one of the Sky Lords face to face the thing would just outright pass her by, worse yet destroy her, and then,

                                                       …

“Lad!”

The young man snaps back to reality, an older Parks, lost in his memories. He'd fallen asleep again while scribing the old mans books, leaving a mess of a page worth of work.

Stuck in a building deep and cavernous, well above the clouds in a tower or wing of the complex Parks sits among a litany of literature. He paws at his face and hair a mess under his cap as the old man Larkin – Curator of the library of Etnia – moves swiftly down from his perch to oversee the progress the young scribes made.

“Gods, that's four volumes, pure and pristine! Such penmanship!” Larkin exclaims, he's always had a thing for a good book.

Parks yawns showing an exasperated smile, “Five.”

Larkin clears his throat as the fifth book is closed and dropped before him. Parks uproots himself from his wooden chair not trotting too far just to receive a new volume with which to work from. This is when Larkin tugs at his long, white beard before sliding the new book away from Parks.

Looking up with a slight slant expression, Parks watches as Larkin flips through the pages of the new volume, “you know lad, you can't expect to learn more than you can know.”

Parks glares with a confused look, to which Larkin commands him,

“Take a break. Come back tomorrow, the library of lady Etnia is not going anywhere!”

Sighing and heaving his shoulders Parks acknowledges maybe a good nights sleep for once is something he could see to committing to.

The other scribes throughout the structure are busy at work or co-mingling in the corridors. Parks makes his way down flights upon flights of stairs. The old building had gone through a lot of upkeep over the generations but mostly just to add to the dearth of information held within. The tower he'd been working in had only been installed 30 years ago. From the ground one looks up to the library as one of the pillars of life in Etnia. For every book in the library there is required to be three books just like it. And as the age of books comes into question and wear and tear, more reproductions are to be ordered.

Parks has always been fond of the art of pen and quill, back to the days when he lived in a town called Clarke. Back when he had friends around him, back when magic and Dragons were a possibility and not just an ill-conceived notion thrown out like a lie.

Parks stumbles through the bustling city streets, long since gone from Clarke he lives in a busy metropolis of Etnia. Named after the queen and the family name of Etnia from long ago.

These towers and pillars are the only thing magical these days, reaching to the sky in the absence of those who once ruled it. Sky Lord's haven't been seen for ages and generations. Which was the odd thing about his old dreams and memories from Clarke. Parks isn't something of a dreamer yet his imagination can oft run away on him in the form of memories.

Some days on his way through the world he wonders if there ever was an Aya, if he'd ever lived in Clarke.

Staggering now and feeling the fatigue weighing on him Parks finds himself stumbling through the crowds to his apartment-like housing. A floor up and the door at the end of the hall he finally enters into his home. You'd never be able to tell the difference between where he works and his home. Books and stacks of literature layer the ground in a thick canopy. He has to step around the piles of parchment and thick leather bound obstacles in order to get anywhere in the surprisingly small room.

Barely making it across the floor to his bed Parks collapses with his feet hanging off the side of the straw mattress. His eyes slowly close on the blue sky out his window, and the young man drifts back into a state of uncertain memory.