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When Lewis was young, he always wanted to fly, he thought that would be the greatest freedom of all, the point of life, the sun of his sky, and the very breath in his lungs.

So everyday, Lewis would find a way to touch the sky.
Starting so young, he would stand on very tip toes of his warn sneaks and reach up, a single finger pointed at the sky, and with a huff he'd fall.

So he'd try again, and again, reaching higher and higher. As he got older, he would learn to navigate the strings that, like a web, connected the city, connected the lows from the highs.

With a smile, and a gleam of hope in those orange eyes he'd climb the strings.
NO one climbed the strings, they were risky, dangerous cabled wires, massive and easily whipped around by the winds.
But Lewis would, he was climb up onto their stationary links and start walking, sometimes on his shoes, sometimes on hands and knees, whatever he had to do, gosh darn it this guy was gonna do it!

And so, he would, he would come to be the start of a group that would climb the Eastern City strings, and hung things, things of useless meaning but of life, to prove life lived on, that love was in the air, that family was somewhere, friends were everywhere, and that no one would be alone again.

So there.
Yep, he did it, he made a youth that would learn to love the very strings that seemed to scare them into theories worse then even a nightmare.

Until, the day he fell.
But he never fell, how could this be!
Well, when a wire string broke, and the wind whipped her right out from under his feet.
He would express a face of surprise.
Arms out stretched, head held high, and falling.

It was okay.

And so, the very beginning was the end for him.
He would fall to the street bellow, and wake a new.

He found true peace even in the face of his death to come, and blessed by something, when he would wake, before he hit the very concrete nearly at his feet, he'd breath another day to stare at the ground just inches from his face.

Hah, you thought he was gonna die.
Silly, this was just the beginning, for he was blessed by the unknown, and would be gifted the very thing he wished for in life,
to fly!

Sorta, he was being held up by trillions of little Fire flies after all.
Cute balls of fire and life.

After all, these little guys had been watching him for years since he started his climb on the strings, and they had been to shy to do anything about it before when they hid in the heights of the sky, usually mistaken as stars in the night.

Well these little guys would accompany Lewis, and grant him the gift to live another day.

All while he found out they could do more then just fly and set things on fire.

But let's just say he became a king of life in the very heights of the Eastern City, and a young man to command at will the loving balls of fire at his side.

He'd still struggle to remember all the names he tried to give them, it's still a working progress.
Heh, maybe one day he'll know.

Till then, he continues to live in the height of the City, on the strings and in the sky, always on the move, and admiring the view.

Meet Neriah, in perfection didn't exist, neither would she.
She is the embodiment of beauty, the cherry to every well made ice cream of your dreams.
So what's keeping you and every other living Fey civilian from her black stage of marble, her night in shining darkness.
Well, let me tell you that she is-
JUST WAY OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE!

Yep, seems fair to say that this queen is something of a gem, and not an easy catch, her heard is an abyssal void, thorn covered, hardened by pressure, and formed by fury for the lose of her entire family.

You see Neriah was born in the thick Jungles of the West, to a tribe.
I know right a native Tribe.
Well, her tribe was slaughtered, a self inflected war between two tribes ended with hers becoming the very innocent victim in the middle, for reasons probably of fault to no one.

How did she survive the slaughter, she didn't, she went from being thus a beautiful young and innocent girl to a stone cold rock after her escape, having to watch the sheer downfall of her family.
To make things worse, she was on her own and young.
Of course she could handle herself, but whenever she was caught in sites of these ruffled up Tribes she'd worry for the men would chase her, and the woman would call her out.

Eventually, she would find meet a Prince, who saw similar views as her, and helped her in escaping the wilds of her home.

So when she found herself free from the Jungle, and able to make her way through the small Towns, and to the Big City her prideful hardened heart was perfect for the picking of the Cities dark inner ways.
She as independent as she was, found ways in and out, and thrived off the capability to self rise.

One of many gifts the Eastern City gave, and she used it to the fullest.

She became the Cities first professional re-make artist.
Re-make, as in, woman and men would come to her, and with her skills, her ways, harden them, and re-shape them in an image more them themselves.

Though she turns down what she can't see being strong enough to withstand her methods,
she treats her comers as art, and point of her existence, and a spread of her perfection-al dominance.

However, her heart isn't without cracks, and time to time, she will take in those of dire need in help, or those of possible no home.
After all, she is now considered a Goddess, able to re-master anyone.

Funny, she didn't even believe in gods.

One's gotta understand that the dead don't walk, not on Fey. Or at least not in the way YOU would think.
Undead live up in the North, in the burning cold, the thick of the ice, the very soul and heart of limbo itself in a world were it's only fog, your invisible all the damn time, and no one is around to even hear you cry.

Yeah, it's a sad confusing world for the Undead, and usually, they go pretty insane before they even come across another living soul.
So you best got to wonder?
Why is Big bone daddy here look'n so down and dismal?

Well, it all began when he was created.
Well, don't you mean born Mr. V?
Well no son, no I don't.

You see Netharan here wasn't born, he was created, by the tiny mind of a very very tiny child.

Created by a child?

Well sure he was, he maybe undead looking, and even related by some connections, but the big man here is an OBJECTIVE.
And, I'm bet'n your just wonder'n what exactly that is?
Well, it's a race on Fey, a race created by the fragile minds of children, in need mostly.
This child just so happen to need a big, scary looking, mean and not really to lean, fellah, so who better then to whip up Netharan!?

And boy was he all of those things and mooore.
After all, who else was gonna protect the little lad from his abusive mother.
Why .... not himself?
Why, not his killed father,
and I sure no it ain't the reader behind the screen.

So Netharan, in the peak of abuse, would come barreling down the hall and into the very child's room, smash open the door and toss the woman right into a near fit of fear and frenzy.
Oh boy, did she have it coming too.
But never in his wildest mind would he get more of a look of hope and love then that lil lad laying on the floor, that very twinkle in his eye.

And so, Netharan would go onto aiding this boy in his life, caring for him, watching him, all that could be done, was done, for him.
And he got love and respect and more in return.

But not all good things last yah know.
And soon, it came to a halt when big bone daddy here realized that he wasn't so much the bone daddy anymore, no now the boy was a man, and boy did he shew him away like a dust bunny caught in the middle of the hallway by a broom.

OUT!
OUT with yah, ... yeesh...

Words hurt, they really do.
So what was he to do, his creator, his providing love and meaning in life just pushed him out the door.

So he got to think'n, think'n real long and hard.
Betrayal is a bitch, and why should he suffer, all he ever did for the pup was care for him, protect him.
He even made him a sandwich every day before school, even every day before work, and now cause he was some man, he didn't need him around.

Well fine, let's see how much he needs him around now.
So Netharan, eventually getting himself together would figure a way to get revenge on his creator,
after all, he was big man, with a big mind, and allot to go for, he couldn't die, and had a whole world of to use at his disposal.

While his creator, was completely the opposite, and he was sure those weak bones of his wouldn't be much match when the time came.

And, when it did, he would find someth'n in him that needed more of it, beginning the start of a darker urge.
But that comes all in time, for now, he would continue to plot his way ahead, and take in plenty of willing men to help him out, even some strange eyeball?

Huh ... what-ah world.

It's rather crazy, but not all stories are crazy.
Some are normal, some are simple.
Some like Elizabeth's.
A girl born, her mother died in child birth, she lives quite the average life growing up.

Good grades, plenty of friends, has a talent for dancing and enjoys the sweetness of music.

Minus that her father a blood thirsty murder mad man, she's sees life quite normal, pleasant, calm, and without wrong.

Sure, she sits down at the dinner table with a monster, but he takes care of her, feeds her, loves her, buys her clothes and books when she needs it.
Even takes her to all her dance classes and comes to her shows, like a good father, like any normal father would and should.
So what if his job for a living is killing people, she's not gonna let that slow her down!
This 16 year old got-s spirit, and life to fulfill!