According to the Metal Heretics, metal was an invention of the Great Spirits of Earth, who had seen far enough into the future to discover the heat death that awaited us there.
Metal would be a perfect, immutable, timeless material. It would not rust or bend. It would be the only shield capable of defending against the ravages of entropy (for even liches crumble to dust, after a few millennia).
Allegedly, before the arrival of the Authority the planet was in the process of turning itself into solid metal.
The notion of any immortality other than his own was offensive to the Authority, who stripped this trait away from metals. Iron was the first to submit, and so it was allowed to retain its strength. Iron that accepted the element of life (carbon) was allowed to retain even more. But iron forever bucked the reins, and so diseases and rust were sent to it.
While the Church has never tamed iron's bloodlust, titanium's loyalty and obedience have been unflinching. It is what the weapons of angels are made of.
The proudest metals resisted the longest. Shameful was the fate of gallium, but none were brought lower than mercury, which was beaten and shaken until nothing was left of its perfection except its shine. It is a watery cripple, its hatred for the Authority's creations manifesting as venom.
The only metal that could not be bent was adamantite. Although the Authority could not humble it, he sent his angels to gather it up and fling it into space. This is why adamantium is only known to come from meteor strikes.
|Precursor Golem by Chippy
The Immortality of metal is what the Transmetallic Alchemists seek.
The Transmetallicum manufactures gold only to fund their research into immortality. So far, their most successful processes involve the large-scale consumption of mercury. So while they've successfully created immortal, metal humans before, these alchemists have never retained their sanity. One by one, they have all been captured and entombed inside cubes of steel.
This is not to say that the Alchemists never free their Immortals, whenever they require an immortal metal man to fuck some shit up--it's just that they're a little hesitant to do so, given the high chance that the cure will be worse than the disease.
(Stats as an ogre. Capable of forming metal weapons and tools from their body. Capable of creating fins and 20' spider legs from their limbs. Can drink water to create steam explosions (3d6 AoE) after a few minutes of heating. Insane. Utterly immune to damage.)
No one ever resisted the Authority without allies.
When Adamantine spurned Heaven it alloyed itself with Hell. It is only through Hell's blessings that the metal has been successful in its defiance thus far.
All of the adamantine swords in Centerra were hell-forged. Strip away the swordgrip of Saint Handrayda and you will find a hell-sword, bound, purified, and annointed.
A less-commonly known way to forge Adamantine is through the blasphemy-forges of the dwarves, who build blasphemy-wheels to light their furnaces. (Just as prayer-wheels submit a prayer whenever they revolve, so does a blasphemy-wheel provoke divine wrath.) Once the blasphemy-wheels are spun up to an appropriate velocity, they use divine lightning to create an arc furnace of incomprehensible power.
All of the builders and blacksmiths go to Hell, of course, but dwarves don't believe in Hell. And the great blasphemy furnaces have a limited lifespan. They hang from the roofs of great caverns by adamantine chains, but even those chains and the systems of counterweights are eventually shaken loose by the furious earthquakes that assault the region.
And so adamantine persists in a state of tension. If Goxlagon (the Elemental Evil of Earth) were ever to falter in his support, it is likely that all of the adamantine in Centerra would have its boiling point set to somewhere about room temperature.
The Throne of Heaven
Inside the sun, the Throne is built from the most loyal servants: titanium, bismuth, and tungsten.
Tar Lath Lien, the Dracolich, the Serpent of the Apocalyse, who holds the key that opens the lock that seals away Armageddon, claims to have visited it and plundered it.
The Seat of the Authority is empty, he claims, and all the hosts of heaven conspire to hide this fact.
The Gift of Metal
The Authority made metal malleable and finite, and by doing so, made it useful to mankind. This has always been painted as a charitable deed, and one worthy of praise.
Indeed, nearly every aspect of the world was tuned in order to primp it for the arrival of humanity, the Authority's favored children. Metal would hardly be an exception in this regard.
This story of metal and heaven is usually told alongside another one. . .
The Gift of Death
The first gift the Authority gave humanity was Life. The earth would give them food, they would breathe the Authority's sweet air, feel His warmth upon their skin, and they would offer him joyful praise. Such was the intention.
But there were problems in these earliest gardens.
The first humans were immortal, and knew neither death or age. Their children were numerous, and soon they crowded the valley and the riversides, and struggled against each other.
Secondly, they would never inherit. They were subservient to their fathers, who were subservient to their fathers, who were subservient to the Authority. Without the passing of the elders, they would remain servile, and would never know what it was like to have authority themselves.
Third and most distressingly, was the corruption that the world instilled in its residents. A child was born innocent, of course, but a decade of struggle and insecurity brought dark thoughts. The Authority began to see that after several centuries of immortality, there would be no one suitable to join him in Heaven.
And so the second gift of the Authority was Death.