Origin

4000 BCE Laniakea

Everything begins somewhere.

The trees, the flowers, the grasses, and the animals that inhabit this earth, all come from somewhere.

The greatest civilisations, and the worst insurgencies, all had an origin.

And the origin of mankind truly began here, upon the eagle’s perch of the Iskarian Archipelago. Learned men would say that humanity as a whole evolved within the equatorial Idasan jungles, and most would agree; but it was with Iskaria, that the first chip of mankind’s mark was carved. They came from the south, in simple rafts made to sail short distances, and landed upon this wild land, an as yet unconquered paradise, where they would call their home.

They would call it Lain’akea, the land of infinite heaven, and would settle, finding fertile lands to farm, and cattle and bison aplenty. This settlement grew, grew unconstrained by the island’s vastness, and would begin to form their own identity, under their own dyed banners, and deepen their mark, hammering ever harder on the chisel. But as humans would, with their avarice, they wanted power, land, control, and soon Lain’akea fractured, and from the ruins of a bloody six-month war, rose a new dynasty, one which would control Lain’akea for millennia.

This new power, came by the name of Iskaria. Prosperity. Power. Their rule over the island was slowly cemented as years passed, and Iskaria became a nation, a people, even an island.

So peace reigned, and the rich prospered, as the Iskarian Empire built itself atop a foundation of blood, bronze, iron, and millennia old tradition, as resolute and immovable as Iskaria itself. It was the true world power. It was a beast, a fearsome bird of prey, who slumbered as fledgling nations sprung up along its fringes, but when awoken, struck quickly, and effortlessly erased countless years of blood and sweat and toil.

Iskaria was the eagle, the mighty hunter, who looked down upon all else as it soared above, with contemptuous ease. Iskaria was the hammer of the architect, the one who builds the greatest temples, pantheons, castles, and palaces, and always built them so that they stood out above all others like bright ruby in dull grey rock. Iskaria was the executioner’s axe, but instead of chopping the heads of convicted men, erased entire countries. Iskaria was the precursor, the founder and the foundation of western society. Iskaria was forever, the land of great feats, by great dynasties, the land of man.

But like always with history, and as the first of many, the great beast was eventually slain. The empire fell. Avarice brought it to edge of the cliff; ignorance loosened one stone. However, one stone was enough - more than enough, to send it crashing down. The eagle found itself flightless - and soon discovered that the waters below could be a terrible demon.

But as all prophecies go, after death, comes new life. When the angel of death struck Iskaria with her star-forged spear, she made way for a new generation, come to replace the old and decrepit, come to wash away the illusion of an Iskaria that was forevermore. Like a phoenix, when the old body burns, and is turned to ash, a baby chick is reborn from those embers, and thus Laniakea was born from the ashes of Old Iskaria. By now, three millennia have passed since the very beginning, three millennia of almost perfect peace, but with this new phoenix, comes an ever looming threat of war; a red fiery fog just above the horizon, just enough to obscure the last half-inch of the red sunset.

Author's Note

This is a bit shorter than my usual posts, but if anyone wants to bother to try piece together this world from my writings then this might be helpful, although at the current state I only have three pieces