Golden Age
Look now to the past, and to the time of
peace on Bryyo. See the age of gold, when our world was a paradise
unrivaled. Hear the songs of joy fill the streets of the Royal City,
as the people honor the coming of Bryyus the First, the Liberator.
Behold the launch of our first ship to the stars on that day, and
witness the rise of Science, of a New Bryyo. See this, and see the
beginning of our downfall.
Age of Science
The ships
of Bryyo sped to the stars, in all directions, bearing the banner of
peace. Soon we found stellar brethren in the Chozo, the Luminoth, and
the Vlla. Starborne knowledge came to Bryyo, and we gladly sent our
wisdom to our new friends in return. The hearts of Bryyo were filled
with pride, and they honored the Lords of Science for all the wonders
we provided. As the time of New Bryyo came to be, the old ways faded.
The cries of joy from those who honored Science covered the angry
shouts of those who mourned the old ways, the Primal Traditions.
Age
of Schism
In time, the wonders of Science were not enough for
those who held the Primal Traditions in their hearts. The warnings of
the Chozo--to seek balance between old and new ways--were not heeded
by the Lords of Science, myself included. We forged on, ignorant of
the rage in the hearts of the Primals. The time came when Sfimas,
First Lord of Science, denounced the Primals and their Traditions in
the center of the Royal City. It was as flame to a dry forest. The
Age of Science ended, and the Age of Schism was born.
Age
of War
In the beginning, the conflicts were small, out of
sight for most on Bryyo.
But they grew, slowly but as steady as
the coming sun. Diplomacy gave way to brutality, and war came to our
world. The Lords of Science turned their minds from exploration to
destruction, and unleashed horrors unknown upon their Primal enemies.
In retaliation, the Primals turned to the darkest of ancient powers,
cursing us, the Science Lords, and all who served our cause. Friends
from the stars tried desperately to end the conflict, all in vain.
The people of war would not be denied.
Downfall
Look
now to the time of battle, tribe against tribe. See fertile land
swept clean of all living things by arcane nightmares or the hellish
blasts of Science. See the giant stone Mogenars do battle, destroying
the land with their titanic blows. And hear the undying scream of a
planet wracked by darkest war. The battles waged endlessly, and the
resources needed to sustain our war machines were great. Bryyo too
had become a casualty of the war: the air was filled with the smoke
of battle and the soil soaked with the toxins of pollution. Calamity
after calamity visited the folk of Bryyo, until a world once known
for wonders became a scarred husk under the stars. Only a small
region remained habitable, and to it the survivors went, bringing the
war with
them.
Victory
We, the Lords of Science, mishandled the use of
our knowledge. The
devastation of the war robbed us of the rare
resources necessary to fuel our war engines. Without our machines we
were unable to stand up to the
Primal armies, and they overran the
enclaves of many Science Lords. What few remained fled into dark
places, polluted wastelands even the bravest of Primal warriors would
not dare enter. Whatever joy there may have been amongst the
victorious was quickly stamped out by the grim reality surrounding
them. Bryyo, their cradle, their sacred home...was on the verge of
death.
Struggle of Exiles
As the followers of the
Primal Traditions celebrated their victory, a number of surviving
Science Lords gathered in a hidden sanctuary. It was there that our
foolishness became obvious, and we regretted ignoring the Chozo's
warning. We realized the folly of following the ways of Science with
blind faith--and the peril of all Bryyo. The contamination left from
the battles was spreading, and would soon scour the remaining fertile
lands, leaving naught but ash. If left unaided, Bryyo would lose what
few safe lands and water remained. Once more, our great minds turned
to a grand task...planetary salvation. As our enemies searched the
lands for us, the last Lords of Science, we created our final
machines and launched them into the heavens.
Salvation
The
great machines of the Science Lords performed flawlessly. They
absorbed the toxins and pollution in the air and soil, preserving the
remaining fertile land of Bryyo. Yet the planet's climate was forever
changed, leaving one side eternally scorched by the sun, the other
forever in the icy grasp of darkness. The launch of the machines
revealed the hidden enclave of the Science Lords to their former
enemies. The bright lights in the skies caused by the decontamination
equipment stirred old hatred in the hearts of the Primals. Fearing a
new attack, the Primals sent their warriors forth to hunt their hated
foes. We were now marked for death.
The Hunted
The
Primals crafted new magics to protect their warriors, and sent them
into the burning wastelands to hunt the Lords of Science hiding
there. Though we tried to avoid contact, many Science Lords were
found and ended by Primal war bands. I was but the sole survivor, the
last remaining Lord of Science. In order to protect myself, I adopted
the wisdom once shared by the Chozo. I merged the ways of the
new--Science--with the ways of old--Magic. I built mighty Mogenars
out of stone, and placed them outside the walls of my home, there to
silently protect me from all enemies.
Decline
Forgotten
in exile, a creature of myth, I, the last Lord of Science,
worked
tirelessly to protect myself and this world. I crafted
magics and machines to bring life back to the wastelands. I found a
new source of natural energy in the land and called it Fuel Gel. I
vowed to atone for the devastation inflicted upon Bryyo, caused by
both science and war. Yet, while I toiled, the Primals slipped slowly
into barbarism. With no Science Lords to hunt, they turned on each
other, tribe against tribe. Magic was lost to them, and they became
as savage as the predator beasts of the wild.
Prophecy
As time slowly passed, I grew old: even the
combined power of magic and
science couldn't cheat death forever.
In order to preserve Bryyo's
environment, I would need a
successor. Finding one was a daunting task, for most of the folk saw
me as a monster. Time passed quickly as I searched, and my efforts
appeared to be in vain. Seemingly by chance, I found a young Primal
wondering the wastelands and rescued her. But this was not a chance
encounter. She was a prophetess, tirelessly searching for the last
Lord of Science to speak to about her visions. In her dreams, she saw
a starborne death coming to Bryyo, and with her vision came a plea to
save her world. Based on her information, I began work on improving
the existing decontamination equipment to help prepare a defense for
Bryyo against the eventual catastrophe.
Our Plea
Sadly,
disaster came to us before we could finish our work. An
accident
caused our supply of Fuel Gel to explode, sending fire to
the sky and exposing our position. It was not long before a Primal
war band saw the great fire, and rushed to attack. Without a way to
power my great Mogenars, I had no way to defend myself from their
assault. Fleeing would only drive them to pursue us to no end, and
they would show no mercy to either one of us once caught. I had no
other choice except to stand my ground while the prophetess fled to
safety. With her I sent my records of the past, in hopes they would
both find sanctuary. You now read my last words, etched in stone and
placed by the prophetess. We speak to you from beyond the grave, to
plead with you... Save our world from the starborne plague. Lift the
veil of hate from the eyes of our people. May our remaining relics
serve you well in this struggle.