View 1; note. The Maker is Elmen.
There once was a world built by a man, and a man in itself alone: or so it was thought that this large dimension of a world was built by one man on the command of his word. But in truth, it is a tragic world the man never realized he created.
On a day the summer moon hung three quarters in the sky, below the sun and parthridge. The parthridge is a set of folded steps that lead to the dimension of The Maker, that hung about mid sky, not touching the ground or the suns. The short staircase led to a door that stayed invisible until walked through. On the other side of the door, The Maker peered down on his people.
"You have been standing there for a long time, Father." A young lad compromised of human and beastly features approached from the back wall of a seemingly small quarter. He approached The Maker, holding a pair of spectacles in his left hand, which he shifted to the top of his head like a band as he added more books to the pile at his chest by his right arm. His hair was shaven but grew longer as it reached the upper right corner of his face, covering his insipid blue eyes slightly. Tall figured, he peered taller foot by foot than the assistant pixie clutched to his left leg like an inattentive child.
She was the colors of the night and sea, spotted in shades of grays and blues that covered her thin body up to her face, where an arched line, clear blue with ashy streaks, followed her brow and dipped down her nose curling into the frame of her eyes from the tips of her eyebrows. She peered forward, her eyes wide and deep gray, taking in all of The Maker.
He too, only inches taller than his son, bore a strong build. He was further clothed with a purple cloth like silk, embroidered with ascents of daily life; shopping in the market, marriage ceremonies, citizens chatting and laughing enjoyably. Since the embroidery possessed the ability to change, no pattern was ever solid or alike the other. Once it may show the scenes of a baby's first cries to suddenly shift its sow into a beautiful young woman at her first confession.
The Maker's gaze held to the ground, his dark eyes peering into the translucent floor of his floating dimension. Through it he watched from above, witnessing all in the 14 Kingdoms. Far in the north, in the Eastern corner lived the Shalacks, bright in their stature and correlation. Their skin is compromised of a greenish tint mixed with bright and dim yellow raised patterns. A people of the water, eyes like a human, but no feature more Skin as soft and absorbent as a sponge, lined in small black dots which filter and soak up nutrients like a plant. Their faces are narrow, and their ears are pointed upward like elves but wider at the base. Three large slits sit in the ear filtering air into their lungs. Their hands glow paint red, as do their hearts. Their race is tall; the females average 6'10'', males 7'4''. Their hearts also depend on gender. The males have a heart in the bicep of the left arm further built into the shoulder and under the shoulder blade. Their other heart is built into the inside of their upper thigh, on the inside of their right leg. The females have three hearts, as an extra precaution for childbirths; the men can also carry children, however, their hearts are much stronger built. The female hearts are small and are located in the palms of the females' hands, extending into their wrists. The third heart is placed under the right shoulder blade. This race flourishes in the North Eastern waters, filled with low salt, but many minerals and greenery.
"The North Eastern Kingdom of Galalea, it is called." The son points out as he stands side by side to The Maker. The Maker continues his deep stare into the North Eastern Colonies. Releigh realizes he didn't gain much of his father's attention, and so he speaks again.
"Father..." The Maker, reacts as if he awoke suddenly from a day dream, and turns to his son more aware of his presence. Releigh smiles back as The Maker assesses his surroundings before standing tall and turns his attention to Releigh.
"Hello, Releigh." His son nods his head, as in "no duh".
"You seemed to be taken aback for a moment," as he looks to the North Eastern corner of the transparent floor map. "Is something the matter?"
The Maker shifts awkwardly, as he catches a glance at the floor map's North Eastern hemisphere, then frowns.
"I'm not sure, but..." He looks desperately at his son. Had any random stranger come along, no one would have guessed that The Maker and Releigh were parent and child. The Maker's looks had never aged passed 26, and his son, now 23, would stop around 30-32 like his older brothers. The Maker breathed deeply, then sighed, and pointed toward the areas around the North Eastern hemisphere.
"Look here."
Releigh peered at the angle of his father's hand. The large Triger forest laps miles of greenery around the Galalea Kingdom, branching off into the South, spreading as far West as half the dimension; an easy travel route between borders. However, Releigh looked deeply into the forest's North Eastern circumference. Releigh's face frowns and twist between anger and confusion. In the forest, a built up line of men, carriages and large beastly animals such as massive wolves, foxes, and small stagnant boars marched in armor. The larger beasts had riders who were armed with trinkets all along their belts and saddles.
Four men lead the march, two in front, one in the middle and one at the end. Their clump masses filled the forest with, what looked like from afar, as dead leaves. They were marching into the direction of the far West, following the tree path to shadow their men by the millions.
Releigh threw his books and papers o the side in outrage as he slammed his fists against the glass. The trees shook back and forth, birds took to the skies and the marching men wobbled like bobble figures. People throughout the entire dimension staggered back and forth trying to regain their balance.
"Reliegh!" The Maker screamed. Releigh ignored him, and began blowing on the marching men. A fierce wind raged between the trees, holding a freeze, turning the base of tree trunks light brown and icy. The men curled inward and hugged themselves and their cold armor. The animals began acting on edge, but the four men stood unnerved. They rode out and in between their men, holding stead west, with their men following still. The army had huddled together like a herd of penguins behind them, shifting one person from the inside of the group outward, like two conveyer belts in-lined; they marched forward loud and chanting.
The Maker furiously covered Releigh's mouth with his hand, squeezing his cheeks as he turned his head so their gazes were equal. With a glare in his eyes, The Maker whispered, "You will do no more."
Releigh, fearful at first, regained his thought and ripped The Maker's hand from his mouth. He then stood tall before his father, the pixie mimicking his face, and glared, stating, with short space between them, "I will do as I please."