Prelude
In the time before time, the Great Spirit walked among the stars in search for a new home for we, the ones called Matoran. But after many windswept eons, when he in his wisdom did choose a place of rest, we were separate and without cause. So the Great Spirit, Mata-Nui, granted unto us the Three Virtues: Unity, Duty, and Destiny. In gratitude, each of our disparate peoples shared these gifts with one another.
The Ta-Matoran used their flames to craft the Kanohi masks that give us life, while Ko-Matoran peered through the icy clouds to see and share their celestial visions of the future. Po-Matoran viewed themselves as master carvers of stone, but none were greater artisans than the Fe-Matoran smiths, and the greatest of these smiths lived within the walls of Fe-Kua. Keepers of the element of Iron, the Fe-Matoran wrought mechanical marvels from the veins of protodermis that streaked the walls of their mountain keep and shared the bounty with their Matoran cousins. But this age of prosperity has past.
Our former protectors, the Makuta, grew jealous of Mata-Nui and cast him into a deep sleep. Under the command of their master Teridax, their Brotherhood sought to eliminate any opposition to their dominion, starting with the most serious threats. While each of our Toa guardians are powerful warriors, there were none the Makuta feared more than wielders of the elements of Magnetism, Gravity, and Iron as their powers most efficiently combat the antidermis frames of the monstrous beings. Despite their incredible abilities, the combined power and ferocity of the Makuta proved too great and the mighty Toa were laid low.
Now the scattered villages and cities these heroes once protected are without hope. They sit under the hateful glare of their new masters who watch tirelessly for signs of rebellion. The Brotherhood systematically dismantled our Unity, forbade us our Duty, and seek to control our Destiny. However, their heinous acts reveal their fear. For despite their victory, they know that Mata-Nui yet acts in his slumber and that new Toa may rise up among the Matoran. The tyrants act on even the slightest suspicions and deliver swift and brutal retribution. There are many that believe that even this barbarity is only a prelude to an impending purge that would result in the extinction of the three vulnerable peoples. All that can be done is to watch and wait and pray that the Great Spirit chooses a new protector.
Chapter 1
The day began with horn blasts as the City Watch relayed to the denizens of Fe-Kua what they had long expected: the Makuta had come to destroy the fortress city. Much like the element from which they draw their identity, the Fe-Matoran stood stoutly resolute, refusing to bend to the will of Teridax. Instead of hiding and groveling like others in their situation, the Matoran did what they had always done. They worked. They toiled in the mines, processed ore and shaped and wrought their mechanical wonders. Others looked upon them with disdain, seeing their continued work as grim resignation at best or subservience at worst. However, anyone who had spent enough time with a Fe-Matoran would know that this was not an act of defeat. It was rebellion.
The Fe-Matoran knew that their every act was under scrutiny and they did not care. Where Ta-Matoran would adhere to the Principle of Courage and fight the Makuta on their own level, or Le-Matoran would throw caution to the wind as dictated by the Principle of Faith and let fate decide, the Fe-Matoran adhered to the Principle of Patience. Instead of creating tools and sculptures, they created weapons and fortified their walls. They knew that no matter what they did, the Makuta would eventually decide that their defiance would become more trouble than it was worth and eliminate them. So the Fe-Matoran bided their time and prepared for the final battle that they knew was coming. And come, it did.
Miners, smiths, and engineers were called to defend the mountain keep from the invaders. The sound of metallic screeching paired with the flashes of energized kanoka disks announced that the Makuta had mustered a horde of chittering Vahki to carry out their bidding. The brave defenders brought every gun to bear upon the enemy. Mortars shattered the sky with thunderous retorts as swathes of the Makuta’s mechanical minions were scattered into pieces. The streets of Fe-Kua were in a state of organized pandemonium as groups of Matoran distributed weapons throughout the city and resupplied gun-emplacements with ammunition. It was one such Matoran that Mata-Nui would choose to alter the course of destiny.
The protodermis braces rattled in Dametta’s arms as he hurried from the foundry to his post on the wall. It hadn’t taken long for the Vahki to begin breaching the walls and incapacitating Matoran, and it was his job to reinforce the damaged portions in his sector. He deftly leaped over craters and dodged falling debris as the sounds of war echoed around him. The City-Watch barked orders that were scarcely heard over the din as Dametta reached his post. Seven more breaches had formed since he left for the forges and the cracks were getting bigger. It was plain to see that, despite their preparation, Fe-Kua would be lost. Nevertheless, the engineer would do his duty. He angrily hammered the protodermis into place as quickly as possible. Dametta had resolved that if the city were to fall, the blame would not be his. He had placed the bars as quickly as he had arrived, and began the marathon back for more supplies when, amidst the cacophony of sirens and cannons, Dametta heard a sound that was wholly unexpected.
It was nearly imperceptible at first, but became clearer as he focused on it. It was singing. A low and sad melody carried was being carried on the wind.