The Monks that lived up high
There were only four.
What were they?
They were monks. Four monks lived a top a high rockied cliff and looked in awe of the universe. There was four monks each with a symbolic inscription.
The first monk had a blue sash. His inscription was white. White was not only the color of purity but represented a daffodil in spring time.
There was another monk. He had a craggily sash and was also old but very wise. His sash was red. His inscription was black representing the dogmatic views of his prescribed religion. Yet, it was odd because this was representational of the Alguae Scorpion, which color was black.
The other monk looked onwards. His color of his sash was a pure yellow. His inscription however dictated something quite different. The inscription was purple representing royalty. Not just a royalty of kings and riches but one of the poor and the paupers.
The last monk sat levitating and around him was a cloud that whipped up white like frosting. He sat in his ohm and his controlled aura. His inscription's color was the lightest blue hue, much akin to a beautiful Californian girls eyes. Such a hue that it was representational of the oceans, the deep blues and the light blues.
They decided to make a transmorgafigationian line. Each monk contributed by wishing out a stick. They all telepathically linked and each of them only wrote a simple black line in the deep earth. Not representational of anything special they telepathically laughed. For these were no ordinary monks but protectors and sheer innkeepers of the Earthen Realm called Daos. Daos was a beautiful place. Skyscraper cliffs amassed in almost every region. Beautiful clear veins of water trickled down into gushing waterfalls. You could smell the aromas of honey trees, dazzle doos and other beautiful plants. Sure, nature was also present as she always is. Hawks squawked and bellowed in the far distant. As the monks looked onwards no incantations were spewed. Rather when they telepathically linked the lines lit up with a wondrous glow. White light emanated from each light and brought forth joy. For it was this day that a shield was coming up. The candles from outside of the lines illuminated so brilliantly another telepath picked it up. These as always were peaceful times. Ohms, chakras, and conjuring spells were up to the monks. Not conjuring of the undead but a conjuring of good spirits and playful nature. Love was what the monks believed. Today was no different as now wind was whipping and thunder was cracking. The shield grew larger and larger. They weren't sages, they weren't gods, they were protectors of Dais. A land where serenity was not taken lightly. Now in their telepathic state their eyes glowed like raiden from Mortal Kombat.
The shield was complete. The thunder still sizzled and cracked like a greasy frying pan. The lines were engraved in thunderous stone.
The realm was protected for now...