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.
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.
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.