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Here shall the tales of Metal be written. Tread carefully as you venture your gaze and your mind into this legendary tome of metallic godly knowledge and scriptures. Prepare for a harsh and epic journey throughout an ancient and mysterious part of the Brikverse known as The Metal Realms.
AEVUM METALLUM
Dark. Empty. Still. Lifeless. And silent.
This is how the universe was thought to be before Metal was. It is impossible to determine who, what, where or when Metal was created. It simply came to exist along all other raw things that took shape from the rumbling maelstrom that creation still was. Pure Metal is sibling of the universe itself; the explosion of matter, the formation of stars, the roaring of suns, the growling of colliding planets, the screaming of blazing comets and the birth cries of whole galaxies...
As the cosmic dust settled, the first sparks of life flickered.
Another shroud of eons is set upon the first creatures to recognize and manipulate Metal. These creatures explored and evolved for so long that their Metal was so crafted, so perfected, it was obvious that the physical plane holding them had to be transposed to achieve a greater state. Such was their power and wisdom over Metal that they achieved an omnipresent and omniscient state. They became Gods. Metal Gods. The very universe they now looked down upon was slowly but naturally getting cast. Inpatient, the most eager Gods began tinkering. Their greed however, created malformations, aberrations, horrors and other wild monstrosities, set loose upon the stars. Hellions. The other Gods that were carefully shaping their own worlds and beings, saw their work being destroyed by the other Gods mistakes and haste. So came to be the Keepers, beings created to kill the Hellion scourge and stop their senseless wave of annihilation. The God War had begun, and it would ravage the universe, the heavens and their godly works. Many fantastic weapons of war were forged by the metal Gods themselves to aid their minions in battle, each more brutally destructive than the last.
After seamlessly endless combat, the Hellions were finally defeated and locked away in lost and forbidden dimensions. In the end, one pearl had remained unharmed from the astral conflict, a small system that we know as The Metal Realms, being Hellius, its orbis core.
The war was unforgiving, and now, too weak to continue influencing the mortal plane, the victors bounded the few remaining Keepers to eternally guard their work from the dark influences marked by the Hellions and their renegade Gods. Portals were sealed, Tombs buried and holy armories, called Steelliums, hidden. The dread gateways were closed with ancient Hellion glyphs and darken chants, now evil gargantuan standing stones. Chasms were opened to pit into them the remains of the demons who couldn't be physically unmade, and closed again as a great canyon scar. And hidden for only the worthy to see, were the Stelliums and their eternal guardians, the mighty Keepers. Engraved in stone and spoken in primordial metallic language, secretly camouflaged with the very earth, the runes of the Metal Gods.
Nature inevitably began to spread its roots, deep into the ground, pulverizing its peaceful and elderly tunes like a perfume of energy. Its water reaching every gap and crack, its oceans covering vast wastelands and craters, its rivers nourishing veins of life across vast continents. Its wind carrying her seeds and songs in speedy tunnels of birthing throughout the world. Its wrath dancing with Hellius's very soul, sprouting large underground caverns filled with OT Ore, magma flows and angry volcanoes, surrounding the Steelliums in natural fortresses. Its bitterness engulfing the Tombs and Portals of Hellions with cold, frozen storms and icy coffins, leaving them even more forgotten and remote than before.
Eventually, nearly all signs of the Gods and the Hellions doing was gone.
Hellius remained so for a long time while the rest of the Brikverse flourished with life, civilization and glorious battles. The minifig was born.
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The true origin of the minifig on Hellius is unknown. Was it evolution? Descendants of an ancient alien race, or of the Gods themselves? No one really knows. One thing IS known, the time they started to show signs of civilization was around the time they learned to read and learn from the elder stones of the Gods. How could a race of minifigs be pacified so early on in their primal existence? This question was soon shattered as the first contacts with Hellius's wilderness and creatures were made.
Although respectful members of their newly explored world, the offerings of its Nature and most its creatures, the minifigs were ravenous blood-lusting barbarians against their foes. Fearsome were the countless hordes of cavern-dwelling humanoids, large forest-wrecking beasts, desert-striding sand hunters, snow-stalking polar horrors, mountain-born tribesmen heathens, hellish demons and Hellius itself. But fierce was the minifig's might. And fierce was becoming their Metal.
The first settlements were made out of simple and easily obtainable materials and briks. Equally simple were their first tools, weapons and instruments.
Simple, until one mourning a great and wise minifig warrior called Kraok stumbled upon a sturdy and hard shard sprouting out of the ground, shining with the sun's blazing kiss. After picking it up, he noticed the long shard was heavier than a rock of its same size and was also harder and more durable, since it broke every other material yet discovered. One night, by studying runic writings in a standing god stone on a mountain near his growing settlement, he discovered what thunder, lightning and the shard truly were. That very night a thunderstorm came, and swiftly, Kraok picked up his shard and ran to the god stone and atop the mountain, as almost by instinct. At the storm's very epitome, he swung the shard into the air, pointing it towards the heavens, he shouted:
The clash of honor calls,
I will stand when others fall.
Gods of War,
They will know the power of my sword!
THEY WILL KNOW THE POWER OF MY SWORD!
The blackened sky rained white bolts of lightning, blinding the overwhelming darkness, discharging them upon the earth with wrath and quaking the ground with mighty force. The roaring storm made the shard shake strongly in Kraok's tightest grip. It resonated with a persistent and sharp "hum". The warrior was unsure of what he so hopefully had shout to the skies. But the answer was, of divine intervention. A larger bolt struck the shard. Kraok felt his feet getting buried in the stone beneath him from the powerful force. His arms, barely sustaining the pressure inflicted, were in stressful pain. With a great explosion of electric sparks and tinier, molten shards of the original one, Kraok now held what he had so hardly studied and discovered. A long, sharp, double-bladed piece of the shard inscribed with perfect runes and magnificent winged lizards spitting torrents of fire. Still glowing hot bright with oranges and yellows. A weapon. A sword.
To Be Continued...
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