Young Writers Society

Home » Storybooks Main » Storybooks » Storybooks

Children of The Sky

User avatar
72 Reviews

Gender: Female
Points: 5501
Reviews: 72
Wed Jun 12, 2019 5:14 pm
View Likes
hiraeth says...

Children of The Sky


Faraway in a multiverse, in a land called Caelum, King Adrion was was not pleased. One tiny detail had derailed his plans. One small object he didn't yet have. Oh yes, he was very unhappy. And he wanted everyone else to be so too. Sadly, he couldn’t control that.

He would be able to, though. Very soon. Just one, tiny thing missing.

But he couldn’t get it on his own. No, he was too old. He needed those manlings. Those children. Those abominations that called themselves actual people.

But how could he get them to do it? They couldn’t know the truth. Ha! What a laughable idea. No, the search had to be disguised. And they needed to be motivated.

He knew what he needed to do.


You are a Puer ad Aetheres, a Child of the Sky. You were born with special abilities that allowed you to join a special group of children. A group of children only, because with age, your abilities fade. You travel the skies in airships, and no, not just because of the fun or the view.

For in the clouds of Caelum, there are castles.

These castles house the strangest things – things of magic, precious metal, jewels, high-level weapons and even ordinary stuff. Some are abandoned, some are inhabited, and some are very, very dangerous.

Things get more interesting when King Adrion calls you and the rest of your group to a mission. He’ll give you a clue: a clue that, once solved, will take you to a sky castle, where you’ll find another clue that’ll take you to another castle, and so one, until you reach the prize. Once you hand it over to the king, you’ll get a payment of 20,000 gold numus.

Of course, there’s a catch. There’s always another person searching for the treasure, right? This is your rival group – and they want the prize money as much you do.

Can you lead your team to victory?

teams, charcater sheet, etc:
Spoiler! :

The teams:

Wind Weavers: 5 members (name and number not fixed)

Sky Scrapers: 5 members (name and number not fixed) - 1 member is the prince.

Abilities are purely athletic: super-strong, super-flexible, anti-gravity, and so on. Powers like being able to sense metal and different types of stones and other abilities is allowed. No stuff like mind control, elementalism, telekinesis, yada yada yada.

Character sheet

Code: Select all
Alias:(the nickname you chose for yourself based on your power)
Age: (between 15-20)
Backstory: (optional)
Weapon: (specify whether magical or non-magical)
Up for Love (and orientation): (yes/no/maybe)

*as many of you might have noticed, this storybook is based off Five Kingdoms by Brandon Mull, but needn't have read it to participate :)

**for the someone who's choosing to be the prince, backstory is necessary. whether your team mates know you are the prince or not is up to you.

Last edited by hiraeth on Wed Jul 10, 2019 3:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
107 Reviews

Gender: Male
Points: 487
Reviews: 107
Mon Jul 08, 2019 6:47 pm
View Likes
XxXTheSwordsmanXxX says...

Maolán Smithy

Nothing was better than the smell of the forge and the ring of a hammer against the anvil. These were Maolán's instruments, and he played them masterfully. He had been up since before dawn getting his chores done. Tending the coals in the fire. Getting the steel heated to begin working the order of tools requested by the local farmers.

He paused in his strikes to return the faintly glowing steel into the forge. He looked at the hammer and anvil that were now his, a sign that his foster father and teacher thought he was ready to make his own way as a Smithy. A few years of saving up and he might be able to afford to build a smithy in the next village over.

Of course, it was the dream of every smithy to be named the a royal smith and craft items to the needs of the castle. Just to open up a shop in the capital would have been a dream come true for Maolán. But a lowly peasant like him couldn't ever achieve such a status.

Especially with his reputation.

"Hey," a grizzly voice called, still half asleep as he rubbed at his eyes. A heavy set man came out of the living quarters and paused by forge to give Maolán a glare. "I thought I said that you didn't have to do these apprentice chores any more."

"Old habits die hard, Haslfur," Maolán responded. The older man chuckled and patted Maolán on the shoulder. His bald head shining as it reflected the glow of the forge and his beard a bright red like he were growing forge fire.

"Gonna wake myself up," Haslfur grumbled as he headed to the water barrel. Splashing the chilled water on his face he gave his beard a shake.

Guess we should get our wares out for display," Haslfur said with a grunt as he rubbed his back. "And bring out that dagger you made...that one you named after a flower...Shade something."

"Nightshade, and be sensible Haslfur," Maolán said assembling some armor onto a stand before organizing some sickles on a table to display. "People will want to see the skill of the master smith. Not me."

"Maolán," Haslfur said sternly. "You are a master smith. You have got to start having some faith in yourself and that ability of yours. I'll bet the moment one of the fine young ladies see your work that they will want to know the man who made it. Now hurry up. We don't have time for dawdling."

Maolán wasn't sure about it, but Haslfur was right. After all it had been his project to prove that he was ready to be more than an apprentice. It was what made Haslfur sure of his abilities.

Marching to a small chest, he gently opened the lid. On a bed of burlap rested a dagger roughly a foot in length. The blade was triangular in shape at an inch and half width at the hilt. Etched into the flat of the blade on both sides were curling ivy and five petaled flowers. Nightshade, as its name implied.

He grasped it by the black leather hilt, decorated with thin silver cord that coiled around to the leather hilt. He rushed back out with the dagger in hand to the only place left on the table. He shook his head as Haslfur had placed a small pedestal in the middle of the table to place Nightshade. Haslfur was going to make Maolán's dagger the center point of all his wares.

Setting the dagger at an angle. He smiled, hopeful that maybe....just maybe, someone would see value in his wares.

"What are you so amused about, whore's son?" an older man growled. Maolán turned to the man. One of the many farmers that had requested tools for his farm. "Has your master finished with my sickle? At least I hope your master was the one that worked on it. Don't know what kind of job would be done by a whore's son."

Maolán's face turned red with frustration. People call him whatever they wanted, but calling him whore's son suggested that his mother was a whore. Which she wasn't. But Maolán could never bring himself to speak up against it. He hadn't 'found his voice' as Haslfur would say.

Luckily he didn't have to.

A crack of a maul on the wood of the table near the farmer made both of them jump. There stood Haslfur with a pissed off expression on his grizzly features. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you from inside my forge, what was it you were calling my ward?" Haslfur's fingers tapped on the handle of the maul as he glared at the farmer.

"I...I didn't....I'm here about my sickle," the farmer quickly stammered.

"Isn't ready yet," Haslfur growled. "How about I send for you when it's done? Now get." The farmer quickly began moving when Haslfur picked the maul up once again.

The older smith's expression was much softer when he turned to Maolán, who was currently wiping away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. He hated that he could never find the courage to speak out against those that would shame his mother. His mother who raised him to the age of five before a fever took her from him.

Maolán's eyes were puffy as he forced himself to keep control of himself. Haslfur gave him a hug with his tree trunk-like arms before he took Maolán into the forge. "Maolán...there is something that we need to talk about..."


That had been two years ago. Haslfur had told him that with his ability, he needed to take part with the Children of the Sky and maybe earn himself a new name.

"Does anyone know why we're here?" Maolán asked his ship mates. It had taken some time for him to be able to speak even a little casually with them. His own social anxieties having made him have trouble for a long time.

"Not sure. King just summoned us for something," Edema said with a shrug. "And everyone knows that we can't refuse the king."

"Yeah I know. I just wish I knew what was so important to call all the ships back." Maolán said following with the rest of his team. They had just recently lost a couple of their crew recently, and Maolán was still adjusting to it. With him now being in the castle of the king, and dressed in the only set of clothes that didn't have burns or tears in them...he felt like a fish out of water.

"Stop being so tense. It's not like we've done anything wrong. Well...nothing we've been caught for at least."

"You're not making me feel any better," Maolan sighed looking around at the extravagant halls that surrounded them. The servant that was leading them had taken them to a large hall with a crowd of other children that had arrived already. Some older and some younger than himself.

All of which made him feel like disappearing into a dark corner.

"There is no way you are leaving me here on my own," Edema said throwing her arm around his shoulders. "You are staying by my side if I have to tie you up. Like back in Broken Hill."

"No. Not again. I lost feeling in my fingers when you did that," he whimpered as his face flushed red with embarrassment at her being to close to him.

User avatar
72 Reviews

Gender: Female
Points: 5501
Reviews: 72
Thu Jul 18, 2019 12:59 pm
View Likes
hiraeth says...

Edema Wryte

Sky Scrapers

Edema wasn’t surprised when she received the summons.

Five years into the Sky Scrapers had taught her that the King had the whimsies of a child, and requested for enchanted artefacts from the skies whenever he wanted.

As if it was as easy as that.

As if they didn’t risk their lives every day in those castles.

She never complained, though. Ed lived for the skies. She belonged up there. Five years ago, the minute she felt the clouds in her face and the breeze in her hair, she knew she’d do whatever it took to be up there every day.

Which is why she stood in a large red hall, in the same room as the Wind bloody Weavers, awaiting the arrival of the king. She pretended she didn’t notice the muddy boot-prints she was leaving all over the expensive peach-colored carpet, and smiled sweetly at the guards glaring at her.

Viola sighed. “Ah, the drama. What would it take for the king to actually be here when he summons us?”

Ed smirked. “Brain games. Thinks he’s soo clever.”

“Hush, guys,” Maolán said. “The guards.”

Ed squeezed his hand to tell him it was alright. Everyone knew the king loathed their kind. They were just pawns to him. Who could blame them if they just returned the favour?

A giggle rose from the Weavers, and Edema whipped her head back to look at them. Scout, Arion, Rebound, Star and Saph stood across the room, their faces smiling at a joke that was clearly at the Scrapers’ expense.

That was the strange thing about this particular summons—that the two teams had actually been called together. That never happened before. Their rivalry was Caelum-famous, as old as the dark parts of Trithia. The king knew better than to trust them in the same room. Which only proved her theory that this particular raid would be BIG. And ‘big’ meant danger, adrenaline, and money.

At some point in the past, the children of the sky claimed that all the raids and hopping from sky castle to sky castle was not for the money; it was for the development of Caelum and for the adventure. As the years went by, though, they stopped pretending. Money was a big part of it. It always was. Raiding the skies was just an occupation that had the added perk of a seemly freedom.

“So,” a Weaver—Arion, maybe, said. “You guys got any idea why we were called?”

“For a raid, obviously,” Caph said. “Why else?” Ed thought he seemed a little tense—no, not tense exactly, just, a little bit off, ever since they set foot in the palace. She didn’t think on it too much. All of them had their dark little secrets.

Someone from the other team snorted. “Puh-bloody-lease. We’ve all figured out that this is bigger than a raid. You’d think that for someone whose brains can duplicate, you’d be pretty smart, but dang, Echo. You’re quite thick.”

Caph tensed visibly this time, and quite understandably. Ed put her hand on his shoulder, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’ll torch them for you later.”

“Oh, go become a wall or something,” Rebound muttered, and the Weavers laughed. Ed’s ears flushed as a part of her flared up in anger. Down, Ed, push it down, she told herself. You know better than to give in. She counted to ten in her head to let her anger subside, and smiled at her rivals. Always smiling.

“At least the walls aren’t as thick as you lot,” Lee replied from beside her. Ed gave him a high-five, even though she wasn’t really sure how serious he was being. She couldn’t really tell, when it came to Lee.

Someone cleared their voice from behind them.

All ten of them immediately whipped around. The king stood at the head of the room, his dark, black crown glittering like a starry night sky. He was sneering down at them (at least, he looked like he wanted to), and his eyes pierced through Ed, as if he could see to her centre.

The teams bowed low, but the king waved his hands in a bored gesture.

“Rise, citizens of Caelum,” he said, his expression twisting when he said ‘citizen.’ He was dressed in dark green and silver, the royal colours of Caelum. The only exception was the amber-coloured pendant at his neck and his jade staff. Both were a gift from the two teams of the children of the skies, back when they were still trying to win over the king’s favour. The amber pendant flashed bright red whenever someone was lying in front of the king, and the staff allowed his voice to carry throughout the room. On forethought, that was something they shouldn’t have done, but there was no going back.

“As much as I’d have liked it had you all incinerated each other,” the king joked (they knew he meant it) “I, and all of Caelum, need you.”

“You have done much for us,” he continued. “You have provided to us when we needed. It is time, I think, that the kingdom does something for you in return.” Ed flinched. As if that didn’t sound fishy.

“I and the council have planned for you…. a race.” Ed saw Viola’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline. “A competition of sorts. All of you must embark in a journey to the skies. You must retrieve certain artefacts during your raids – artefacts priceless for the development of Caelum. There are thirteen such artefacts in total. The team with the maximum number of artefacts at the end wins.”

“Wins what, exactly?” Lee asks.

The king smiles. A sly, sly thing, as if he knew this was a snare they couldn’t escape.

“The Victors shall lay claim,” he paused, and Ed could feel his jade staff pulse with power as his voice rose, “to 20,000 GOLD NUMUS!”

For a second, everything was deathly silent. And then, a Weaver—Star—whistled, and Ed knew exactly what he was thinking. 20,000 gold numus was like, enough for three lifetimes. They could all take an early retirement, live off the rest of their days in style. No more dangerous raids. Just free, aimless roaming among the clouds, resting up on the occasional human-friendly sky castle, watching the sunset with her friends…

She looked at her team, and they looked back at her, their eyes shining. Caph nodded.

“The Sky Scrapers are in,” she told the king. A little voice at the back of her mind nagged at her: This is wrong wrong wrong—but she ignored it, and believed that for once, the Fates were on her side. Just this once. The fates have got to be my side.

The Wind Weavers consented too. Of course they did; no raider would give up such an opportunity.

King Adrion smiled his viper smile, and nodded. “I am pleased. Now, if you would follow me to the meeting area, and I shall discuss exactly what you need to find.”

They followed him and two of his guards to a small, dark room at the back of the palace—well-hidden and secluded. Ed was surprised he brought only two of the royal guard, but she guessed he wasn’t very afraid of ten super-human children when he’d just offered them a fortune.

He held up a crystal sphere—a seer, if Ed recalled correctly. They’d fished it from a castle of glass, but with walls that melted into a hot puddle of glass-lava as soon as they picked up the seer from a built-in shelf. They’d barely escaped, and all of them had suffered from second degree burns later. But it was worth it. They’d sold the seer for 10 gold numus to the king. It was able to make very real-looking paintings of the things kept in front of it, and, best of all, it stored them like a container.

“Each of the artefacts you need to find will have this symbol imprinted on it.” King Adrion said, and held up the crystal ball. It glowed bright blue and showed them an image of an odd looking letters arranged in a circle. Like witchcraft, Ed thought.

this rune.jpg
this rune.jpg (75.43 KiB) Viewed 291 times

Slowly, the image faded away, and the seer became an ordinary glass ball. King Adrion was speaking again. “Now, of course, you can’t visit every castle in the sky. That would be impossible. Which is why, I give you this.”

He handed each of the teams a pendant with the same blue symbol on it, only the letters weren’t glowing. “When you near one of the artefacts, the symbol on the pendant will begin glow. The closer you are, the brighter the glow. Once you have the artefact, bring it in contact with the pendant. If it flashes bright blue light around you, you know that you have what you need.”

“The kingdom shall provide any supplies you need. Do not harm your opponents, and do not speak of this to anyone else.” At that, more than a few eyebrows were raised. The king didn’t seem to notice.

They walked back to the throne room, and the king nodded at them one final time.

“I wish you the best of luck. May the best team win.”
I was eleven years old
and I'd lost my mother,
and my soul.
And the crucible
gave me you.


And then, as if written by the hand of a bad novelist, an incredible thing happened.
— Bartimaeus of Uruk