Story of Metal

In a world far from our own there existed a world of people far different from our own, separated by petty squabbles, class divides, and superiority complexes. Three factions led this world: The Warrior Clan: strong and powerful, The Mage Clan: Wise and cunning, The Stealth Clan: Silent and Deadly, these three clans fought for control of the world, each one thinking that they held the true way to live. For years this war raged on, countless people dying for their respective causes that is...until a light from above came at the apex of their war. Beings bearing light and skill untouched, they warned their comrades of an even larger threat coming to end this world, a threat wielding weapons that would shut down and destroy every being they touched. Underneath the Lightbearers, the three clans set down arms and prepared for war. That is where the story of our...well hero begins, he was a beetle-man, trained in a discipline between the Tank-like subfaction of warriors and the Death-dealing and controlling Necromancers of the mage clan, he came to be known as a Death Knight, wielding death and blade alike and turning the dead against their former comrades. He wielded a symbiotic insect blade, a comrade that kept him company during the long nights between battles. During the final battle against the highly advanced martian race, his left arm was cut off, cursed to never regrow again due to their weaponry but even so he slew the mighty martian leader and saved the world and his race. He was celebrated as a hero the world over but....time makes a bitch of us all. Years passed and the technology they salvaged allowed them to build and create mightier warriors to protect their world, his heroism forgotten and discarded as they flocked to their new and shinier heroes.

He sat distraught, a forgotten hero, made bitter and angry by the tides of time. After a while, he sought a simpler life and became a traveling bard, using his necromatic abilities to add a touch of undead flair to his shows, but everywhere he went he was remined of the society that discarded him, that forgot him and his heroism, what worsened this were how his fellow bards were decadent dandies, focused more on fucking anything fuckable than actually doing what he considered their jobs, to entertain and bring people joy. This all came to a head one day as he was scheduled to perform for minimum wages at a small concert hall, he had been down on his luck and chewed out by his employer for using the undead in his performance and told he'd be forced to be an opening act for a newer, shinier, and younger musician. Hatred flowed through him as he began to write a new song, all the years of anger and disgust towards society became condensed into a single song! When he stepped out onto the stage, he wielded a guitar made from the bones of his undead warriors and to the surprise and horror of everyone who watched....he sang, hatred flowed as the bass boomed and shook the stage, drums rattled as it seemed the very gods of death and the dead themselves gathered to watch this man's hate blossom forth, metal clanged as his voice boomed and a new genre of music was born for this world had just been subjected to it's very first taste of Heavy Metal, a taste of Death Metal. He was banished from society, a forgotten hero and a disgraced musician for they said his music was dark, demonic, dangerous. So he wanders the land no longer for cash or fame, but to play for anyone who will listen, anyone who can handle his hate.