Rise and Fall

Eons had passed since the last breath of mankind, since disease and war had ravaged the earth and wiped out its once-dominant species. What remained of that time—of cities, technology, and all the memories of human achievement—had been swallowed by nature. Forests stretched over the ruins, oceans rose and fell, and mountains shifted with the patience of eternity. Time had buried the old world so deeply that not a trace of it remained, not even in whispers carried by the wind.

But life, as it always does, found a way. A new species now roamed the earth—orc-like creatures, hardened and primal, their existence born out of survival in a harsh, unforgiving world. They knew nothing of what had come before, of the wars that once scorched the planet or the diseases that ravaged entire populations. To them, the world had always been this way—a place of endless struggle and raw power, where strength and cunning were the measures of life.

They built their societies from stone and bone, with rituals tied to the cycles of the sun and moon. They fought and thrived in a landscape that had erased humanity as if it had never existed. The world turned once more, the same planet, yet now ruled by different hands, by creatures whose rise marked the dawn of a new era. The cycle had begun again—life and death, rise and fall—unseen by any who had once believed they were eternal. Now, the orc-like beings shaped their destiny, unaware that eons before, others had walked the same ground, had made the same mistake of believing their time would never end.