The Origins of Orcs & Elves

The Verdant Pact is not merely a political alliance—it is a convergence of myth. To understand its strength, one must first understand the stories that shaped its people.

Plateau Orcs: Children of the Celestial Forge

Among the plateau orcs, origin stories are passed down like war chants—each version a variation on the same elemental truth. The most widely held belief is that orcs were born of pure fire in the heavens. Not crafted, but ignited. They fell to the land like meteors, striking the world with heat and fury. The land itself became their forge, and from that moment, they began to cool—not in weakness, but in purpose.

To be orc is to be in the process of becoming. They shape themselves through trial, through strength, through discipline. Every scar is a hammer-blow. Every hunt, a tempering. Their lives are a long cooling, a preparation to return to the celestial flame that birthed them. Until then, they forge themselves worthy.

Some say the Shrine of the Sky Ring was built to mirror the heavens from which they fell—a ring of stone encircling a floating halo, pouring stardust into the earth. A reminder of origin. A promise of return.

The Creation of the Orcs (song)

We were fire before we were form,

Hammered in heaven, cast down in storm.

The land was our anvil, the sky our mold,

We cooled in the dust, but our hearts stayed bold.

We carved our names in obsidian stone,

Each mark a vow, each scar our own.

We do not beg, we do not bend,

We forge, we fight, we break, we mend.

So let the world remember flame,

Not as ruin, but as name.

We are the fire that does not die,

The forge-born kin of storm and sky.

Forest Elves: Seedlings of the First Tree

Elves speak less of fire and more of root. Though their earliest days in Skybride are lost to time, it is widely accepted that they came from another continent—perhaps even another world. Wherever they settled, they planted a mother tree, a living monument to their origin. Villages grew around these trees like petals around a bloom.

These mother trees are said to be kin to the First Tree, the source of all elven life. Its location is unknown, perhaps mythical, but its essence lives on in every grove. Elves believe they are not born, but grown—each life a branch, each soul a leaf. To harm a tree is to harm the lineage. To protect it is to protect the memory of the beginning.

Even now, the elves of Silver Moon Glade tend their mother tree with reverence, singing to its roots and listening to its dreams. It is not just a home—it is a tether to the ancient past.

Mother Tree (Song)

The world sings in wind and rain,

In mossy stone and root-bound vein.

The Mother Tree stands tall and wise,

Her branches cradle clouded skies.

O Mother Tree, in leaf and breeze,

You speak with stars and ancient seas.

Your breath is mist, your heart flame

The world awakes to speak your name.

Fox and fern, the owl's cry,

The bloom that opens when winds sigh

All are threads in nature's loom,

Woven deep in twilight's bloom.

The Pact was sworn in root and rain,

In petal's fall and birch's grain.

We walk the path where silence grew,

And learn the truths the wild ones knew.

O Mother Tree, in dusk and dew,

We sing the world through song of you.

Let every leaf and stone proclaim

The bride of heaven bears your name.