
The once thriving planet of Zarthor had been reduced to a desolate wasteland. The two rival houses, the Saragon and the Helstrom, had waged a seemingly endless war for the past thousand years. Their insatiable lust for power and resources had left Zarthor a shadow of its former self, stripped of life and beauty. The remaining inhabitants were caught in the crossfire, forced to pledge loyalty to one house or the other.
Massive walking cities, colossal metallic structures that spanned hundreds of kilometers in diameter, lumbered across the war-ravaged landscape. These titanic cities housed millions of soldiers, laborers, and citizens, each dedicated to their respective houses. The cities were powered by the remnants of the planet’s resources, harvested from the aftermath of each brutal battle.
Harvester teams, closely guarded by armed escorts, scoured the battlefield for scraps and salvageable materials. The spoils of war included anything from broken weapons and armor to the ruined husks of fallen walking cities. These materials were then recycled and repurposed to fuel the endless war machines that had consumed Zarthor for centuries.
In this dying world, the people turned to ancient beliefs, worshiping the Gods of War in a desperate bid to gain favor and emerge victorious. It was said that the Gods would grant power and fortune to those who offered the greatest sacrifices. The recent capture of several opposing dynasty cities presented the perfect opportunity to appease the capricious Gods.
Within these captured cities, the lizard-like inhabitants known as Prosaurs were rounded up and stripped of their armor and weapons. Dressed only in the rags of slavery, they were marched toward The Great Maw, a fathomless cave system that had long been the site of sacrificial offerings. The cave was notorious for its ominous reputation; those who entered were never seen again.
The Prosaurs were thrown down into the unfathomable darkness, their screams echoing through the cavernous depths. As they disappeared into the abyss, a temporal rift snapped open and swallowed them whole. The sudden surge of energy signaled their eternal banishment, their lives offered as sustenance to the Gods.
In response, the heavens erupted in a furious display of thunder and lightning, illuminating the pitch-black skies. The rival houses interpreted this as a sign of the Gods’ approval, and they reveled in their momentary appeasement. But in the grand scheme of things, they were merely perpetuating the vicious cycle of death and destruction that had plagued Zarthor for a millennium.
Despite the fleeting triumphs of each house, the end of the war remained as elusive as ever. The people of Zarthor continued to suffer, their once vibrant planet now reduced to a desolate, dust-choked battleground. In this grim reality, hope was a scarce commodity, and the cycle of war seemed destined to continue for generations to come.
As the Prosaurs tumbled through the temporal rift, they braced themselves for the unknown, expecting a painful or gruesome end. However, instead of meeting a grisly fate, they found themselves in an entirely different world. The rift had transported them to a lush and fertile planet, one that seemed to be the polar opposite of their desolate homeworld.
This new planet was teeming with life. Vast forests stretched as far as the eye could see, filled with trees bearing ripe fruits and vegetation unlike anything the Prosaurs had ever encountered. Clear, sparkling rivers cut through the verdant landscape, providing an abundance of fresh water. The skies overhead were a brilliant blue, a stark contrast to the dark, storm-ridden skies of Zarthor.
As the Prosaurs explored their new environment, they discovered that it was inhabited by a myriad of strange and wondrous creatures. Some were gentle, while others were more dangerous, but all contributed to the vibrant ecosystem that flourished on this strange new world.
Realizing they had been given a second chance, the Prosaurs were determined to make the most of their new lives. They vowed to leave the violence and bloodshed of their past behind and build a peaceful and prosperous society. With their natural resilience and adaptability, they quickly learned to harness the resources of the planet and established small communities.
The lessons they had learned from the war-torn world of Zarthor served as a constant reminder of the perils of greed and the devastation that could result from unchecked conflict.
Meanwhile, back on Zarthor, the war between the Saragon and the Helstrom continued to rage on, each side still seeking the ultimate victory that would never come. Unbeknownst to them, the Prosaurs they had so callously discarded had found a new beginning and a chance to forge a better future for their kind.