Hymn of Steel and Might

Prologue: The Stillness

The long-frozen corridors had not seen movement in the longest time. The wind whistles through the ruins, the result of natural processes ignorant the frozen carnage strewn about. The cold indifference of nature slowly froze the mangled corpses strewn about the still-smoldering wreckage. Earlier in forgotten corners of the ruined settlement, a few dying embers cast minute amounts of illumination on the walls, as they themselves started to succumb to the cold.

The machines the dead workers had brought were also slowly freezing. The immobilized automata and specially modified steam engines were no match for the artic temperatures and howling winds. Some defiant machines continued to function for a small amount of time, before they were perpetually locked in place by the unforgiving frost.

In the end, all was still. The blood coagulated into the snow and ice. The machines now were entrapped within icy tombs. Beneath the ruins, however, the artifact was stirred. The weak flesh had released it from its long slumber, and soon, it would arise to fulfill its mission. The mission and origin of the artifact were far beyond the comprehension of the weak flesh. The artifact did not think, nor did it doubt, nor was it capable. Thought was for the weak. There was only purpose, and now capacity. The artifact waited in the ice, and began to bide its time. Soon, it would emerge again. Very soon.

And the world of the weak flesh and weak thinking metal would be forever still.