#remiparks

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.