Been traveling this continent long enough to know its bones run deep with stories. What we call Utora now… it wasn't always like this. Back in the Ancient Era, it was a place of high hills and violent skies. Mountain ranges cutting through the land like scars, meadows hidden between them like secrets. Traveling across it would've been a death wish back then — steep climbs, sudden drops, cliffs waiting for you to slip.
And then, the volcanoes. Deadlier than anything living. I've walked near the bones of one. Still warm.
Climate was strange too. Warm at the start of the year, but by the end? Cold like the gods turned their backs. Not many storms, but rain — oh, the rain never stopped. Not wild, just steady. Constant. Like the land was always mourning something.
And the creatures... they came in all shapes. All tempers. The gentle ones? Hunted out of existence fast. Too easy to catch. The others disappeared just because the ones they relied on were gone. The whole system broke down. Nature lost balance and didn't know how to fix itself.
From the ruins we've found, it's clear — three major civilizations lived during that time. Three that we know of, at least.
The Onuc Empire(Northern Utora)
Stone builders. Mountain dwellers. The Onuc lived in the clouds. Their cities were carved into cliffs and built atop mountains. No simple huts — these were real fortresses. Smooth stone, tall towers, 150 feet high in some places. Whole bridges stretched from one peak to the next — still standing now. No one's ever rebuilt anything like it.
They didn't eat much meat. Mostly fruits, wild-grown. Rarely a bone found near their cooking pits. Maybe they saw animals differently. Or maybe they just didn't need the hunt.
Empire spread across the entire north. And it was no small thing — we've found structures stretching from one end of the highlands to the other. They left behind stone tablets with carvings — clean writing. Eventually switched to paper, but not much of that survived. Still, the stories on stone tell enough. We even found gold items: crown, necklace, bracelets… even a pair of shoes. Fashion never dies, I guess.
Then there were the golems. Found a few in the ruins. Big things. Stone bodies. Hollow cores. Never worked. Just husks. But the way they were built? Somebody tried to give them life.
No one really knows how the Onuc fell. Some say the Slurqith came down on them. But that doesn't explain why the cities are still standing. Doesn't explain the lack of scorched earth. They lasted until about 10,000 AE. Then — nothing. No final battle. No trace of a collapse. Just silence.
The Kisi(Eastern valleys and hills)
The Kisi were different. Peaceful. Artistic. They lived low — close to the rivers, in the valleys, under open skies. Their whole life seemed centered on creation. Music. Painting. Stories passed down like sacred relics. Every tale starts with the same phrase: "Silence is sacred." And maybe that's why not much remains.
Their buildings were wooden. Nothing like the stone giants of the Onuc. All that's left are burn marks and collapsed frames. But each Kisi city, according to legend, was unique. No repeats. No templates. Every place its own reflection of the people who lived in it.
They wore leaves, plant fibers, soft materials. Even in death, some of their clothing held on. Skeletons buried with instruments, paints, carvings. They traded with the Onuc — likely gave them paper, among other things.
Windcraft was big with the Kisi. Or at least, the stories say so. No real proof of it — just enough strange findings to make a man wonder.
Their presence fades around 14,000 AE. But they didn't vanish in the same way the Onuc did. See, plenty of houses today still say they carry Kisi blood. And when I hear some of the old songs passed down in villages, I believe it.
The Slurqith(Southern lands — canyons, vents, volcanic plains)
Now this civilization? No softness in them. Slurqith were predators. Expansionists. The whole south was theirs — a land of lava flows, black stone cliffs, and ash-covered valleys. They built their homes behind the heat. Blackstone weapon forges lined the cliffs, and magma rivers weren't a threat — they were tools.
Their whole belief system was built around strength. Take what you can. Climb the ranks with your fists. Leadership came from combat. Anywhere. Anytime. You saw someone stronger, you fought them. Win, and you're on top. Lose, and you're forgotten.
They were divided into tribes, but sometime around 8000 AE, they came together under one warlord — a brutal figure known only as The Red Bear of the South. No name. No face. Just stories. That era — 8000 to 8400 — became known as the Red Spear Centuries. Raids, battles, blood. The Slurqith didn't just fight the Onuc. Kisi bones have been found with Slurqith weapons still embedded in their skulls.
They tamed giant bears, used them as war mounts. Some skeletons have been dug up — bear and rider side by side, both in armor. It's terrifying.
After the Red Bear, the unity cracked. Tribes broke off again. No one knows how many there were before or after. Some say they were the ones to destroy the Onuc, but timelines don't quite match. The Onuc outlasted them by over a thousand years. Something else ended that empire.
One Slurqith tribe, though, managed to survive until at least 1450 BC. That's recorded. After that, no one's sure.
So, that's the picture so far. Ancient Utora wasn't one empire, one people. It was a land constantly shifting. Rising. Falling. Burning. Rebuilding.
And somehow, we're still here. Walking the same paths. Living in the same shadows.