No one knows quite how or why this came to be, but in the early days of this world, the Lightning Lords – beings of sentient electricity – were the only life it knew. Ironically, by stirring reactions in the primeval sludge, the Lightning Lords, or one of them at least (most likely Lord Static) caused the creation of all other life, and their time as the sole occupants of this world came to an end.
Not that this bothered them much. For many millions of years, it did not affect them at all, in fact. Not until other races began to develop consciousness, and to enforce their will on the world around them, did the Lightning Lords consider life to be anything more than an amusing phenomenon (and an occasional bit of target practice). But eventually, the humans arose. They gave names and natures to all around them, including the Lightning Lords, and one by one tamed them with the strength of their belief. Lords became Zeus and Nyarlothotep and Thor and Chalchihuitlicue, their natures now constrained to their archetypal roles in stories of deity and humanity.
All save one.
One Lightning Lord, the greatest of them all, remained free. Remained unchained, unbound by the petty restrictions of human belief. And this could not be permitted.
In the Victorian Era, a combined force of members of the Van Helsing Society, the Order of the Silver Star, the Watchers Council, and many another such group hunted down this last free lightning bolt, trapping it and killing it in the wastelands to the west and north of Melbourne.
But even in death, the Lightning Lord left his mark upon the land, and try though they might, the name of King Spark will never be erased.
Suburbs near Kings Park: