Heavy Mythril is a setting where rock, punk, and metal are real, tangible forces.
- 1 Races
- 2 Gods
- 2.1 The King
- 2.2 The Four
- 2.3 Zepp
- 2.4 The Man in Black
- 2.5 Lord Alice
- 2.6 Akkdekk/Teyente
- 2.7 The Tyrant
- 2.8 Zhikae the Blackstar
- 2.9 The Caged One
- 2.10 The Elf of Rainbows
- 2.11 The Airsmith
- 2.12 The Sired
- 2.13 The Tenacious Duo
- 2.14 The Queen
- 2.15 The Ever Marching Battalion
- 2.16 The Keepers of the Seven
- 2.17 The Cult of the Azure Crassostrea
- 2.18 The Million-Soul Fire
- 2.19 Masked One of the Conical Crown
- 2.20 Men of War
- 2.21 The Maiden of Iron
- 2.22 The Madman
- 2.23 The Unseeing Protector
- 2.24 Beatcrafted
- 2.25 The Starman
- 2.26 The Traitor Priest
- 2.27 Napstar, the Archthief, and the Torrent of Souls
- 2.28 The Fallen Lord of Paradise
- 2.29 The Bringers of Glory
- 2.30 The Thespians of Imagining
- 2.31 The Erratic Gäng
- 2.32 The Unknown
- 2.33 The Ape Gods
- 2.34 The Lord of the Watchtower
- 2.35 The Horned Lord
- 2.36 The Roaring One
- 2.37 The Crimson Order of Ha'Bin-ero
- 3 Notes
- 4 Timeline
- 5 The World
Humans are divided into three general ethnicities, but all are about the same. The ur-man is the first ethnicity, the people from which all mankind descended, tracing their lineage back to the titanspawn that sired the world, dusky-skinned and powerful. They can live in places that the rest of the world would consider uninhabitable, and indeed, they thrive there. The ice-men live to the north, the pale-skinned and fair-haired raiders; rumors claim that they inherited these traits from mingling with the elves in ancient times. Lastly, the westerners serve as a general melting pot for those that live across the blasted lands, the islands of Sattai, and the distant continents, tan of complexion, dark of hair, and smaller of build than their kin in the near world. Humans may be of any alignment, usually deferring to the most common alignments of their class.
Rumors abound about the fate of the various elven peoples, of the black elves that lived beneath the crust, of the fair elves of light that were said to watch over the lands from the peaks of the distant continents. Now, there is but one race of elves left in this world; the winter elves, elemental spirits bound into the forms of flesh; they are literally the fury of the winter's storm given shape and soul. As such, they are not a race to be trifled with, calm, emotionless, and lethal. It is said that their nearly unnatural skill with a bow is due to being able to see how the winds blow from them to their targets, and that they actually manipulate the air about them when singing. No one knows if it is true; for their part, the elves remain silent. Elves are almost universally Metal in alignment, usually Power Metal or Glam Metal. Black Metal elves are usually necromancers, outcast from their own people.
There are yet two races of dwarvenkind in the world, separate and distinct, and not on particularly good terms with each other.
Magma dwarves - or "dorfs", if one was to transcribe their accent - are said to be insane by birth. Any race that can design an instrument as bizarre as the bagpipes must be a bit off in the head, and to use them for such rapid, twisting ballads... they are shorter than their cousins at about four feet in height, with blazing red hair and dark eyes. It is said that the magma dwarves do not fear fire in any form, for their skin is nearly impervious to heat; whether this is hyperbole or reality is generally unknown. The iron dwarves, by contrast, are taller and fairer, with pale skin, black hair, and shining yellow eyes. They are on generally friendly terms with the winter elves, a rare thing. While the magma dwarves are gregarious, the iron dwarves are restrained. While the magma dwarves live to the fullest and shower death upon their foes, the iron dwarves seek to prolong their own lives, obsessed with death. It is said that the true passion of an iron dwarf is immortality in all its forms. Magma dwarves are usually rock in alignment, while Iron dwarves are usually metal, favoring black metal.
The smallest race of all the civilized folk, standing a good three feet tall on average, munchkins were once gnomes, halflings, hobbits, or a dozen other such races; now they are a single race, a race that controls... a single city. The City of Rain is a quiet place, a citadel struck by poverty and chill, a town where one must bundle up tighter than in the frozen north if he is to survive. It is a poor town, a town kept alive barely by industry, and a town that the munchkin strive to keep running. Most of the youth are disaffected nihilists, loathing their own existence, while the blue-collar workers that run the city, magewrights and engineers, are still quite proud of the place they grew up in. Munchkins are almost all of Rock alignment, ranging from arena rock to grunge/punk.
Shunned by most of the gods, only the most twisted patrons will have anything to do with the orcs. Considering the world to be fine without the influence of the gods, they seek to destroy every deity, claiming the only song they need is the one created by their own breaking of things. Huge and bestial, orcs are rarely a race to be trifled with; the only ones that can be trusted are those that have forsaken the ways of their kin and have embraced one of the deities. There are a handful of small orc tribes that have done so, mostly followers of Akkdekk - who call him by his orcish name, Teyente. Orcs are usually thrashmetal in alignment, while orcish renegades may be of any alignment; those that follow Akkdekk are arena rock.
Hobs are a race that is said to have been created from the nightmares of small children. This is their most horrible quality, and their saving grace - kids can think up some creepy shit, but none of it is really terrifying, and they're scared of some pretty stupid things, as well...if magma dwarves are insane, hobs are completely bonkers, with no fear, no restraint, and no remorse. At the same time, they have a sort of strange innocence - while they will split a man's head open on the battlefield, their reaction will be a sudden burst of glee, followed by a cry of "WHOA, COOL!" Older hobs lose this joy, replacing it with deep, impotent, pointless rage directed at everything and everyone - but it is a rage that is easy to manipulate, easy to direct, and incredibly shallow, so few pay it any mind unless a sword is backing it.
There is a vast pantheon of gods in the world of Heavy Mythril. The Song that brought the world into existence, the song that forges the souls of all sentient beings, has been discovered by some men. As they shape it, bring it into the world in new forms, they become gods themselves. It takes a true connection to the Song to be a god; not every two-bit bard can hack it.
Long Ago, deep in the farm lands of D'Eltara, there was but a simple farmer who wished to be a bard. He wandered the roads of D'Eltara everynight, picking at his lute until one night, The Dark One came to him and offered him a deal.
In exchange for his soul, the Dark One would show him The Song. The Farmer agreed. He took the lute from the farmer and with Fire from his finger tips, he played three cords on the lute. The farmer blacked out and awoke at the Crossroads. The lute had now become elemental, Electric. As the farmer walked back to town, The Dark One spoke to him.
"Go to town and get yourself a plate of hot dumplings. you're gonna need something on your stomach where you're going."
So began the first era. The Song spread from bard-to-bard, soon growing as varied as the people who heard it. There arose The King, who was disposed by the Four.
The first "true" gods to ascend, Jahn, Pol, Gerog and Rhyngol were quarrymen - miners. It is not recorded how they ascended, other than an incident at Sullivan's Tavern. What is known is that they began spreading a message of peace, love, and freedom across the world. They traveled to the north, to the frozen wastes, to halt the invasion of the ice titans, where Jahn alone was forced to save his comrades - they had been turned into eggs by a sorcerer, whom Jahn defeated by taking the form of a great dire walrus.
Now... the Four are mostly dead. Jahn died, slaughtered by the seducer demon Yog-Koa. Pol has begun to steal his songs back from the world, receding as a bitter tyrant. Gerog also died, succumbing as to a dread disease, the cause of which is unknown. Only Rhyngol is constant, the deity living beneath the waves in his manor, Octopus' Garden. He still tours the world yearly, answers prayer personally, and his power alone still fuels the great artifact Maxwell's Silver Hammer, which is passed down through the archclerics of their faith.
From humble beginnings arose the closest thing to an overgod that the pantheon of this world has ever known. While his history is ambiguous before his ascendancy. Some priests claim that he was a druid with a love of avians; others claim that he was an ordinary, if witty, young Ice-man named Nobs - a "man from the land of the ice and snow". His silence on the matter tends to suggest that it does not matter to him. In fact, Zepp is one of the less blunt, more retiring, calm gods, preferring to work through his worshipers than disturbing the world by descending in all his glory.
Zepp is, much like the Man in Black, a constant foe of the demons that haunt the world, although he seems to believe that they can be purified. In one notable instance, he confronted a seducer demon simply called the White Lady that was drawing men into the thrall of a technocrat, claiming that they could buy their way into heaven, and showed her the futility of her ways; such was the power of his message that she turned from darkness, becoming his prophet on the crust.
Interestingly enough, Zepp is also one of the few gods that has prophesied a figure that will come after them, a figure that is greater than them - the Piper, a being who will be the last avatar of The Song, and who will call all of creation to join him in the heavens.
The Man in Black
A bodhisattva from before the rise of the Four who later ascended to "true" godhood, the Man in Black is a devout follower of the Song who wanders the crust, teaching the people of this world through his songs and seeking justice. He and his followers are implacable foes of demons - the Man in Black himself has fought with the Dark One himself and lived to tell the tale - and the most successful, well-known paladins of history claim him as their patron. Notably, the Man in Black, while an honorable, noble being, is not without a sense of humor - he loves spreading stories of his followers far and wide, such as the man who decided to steal a Thunder Chariot one element at a time from a technocrat's assembly plant, not realizing that they were changing the design slowly over time.
The god of Dragontown, the punishing afterlife of the damned, Lord Alice is a terrifying figure. His hair is wire, his eyes scarred from the burning tears that flowed from his face upon his ascension, lips scarred in the same manner.
He's also a really nice guy.
Sure, his worshipers are horrifying, and he will gladly torment any damned soul that enters Dragontown until nothing remains of their sanity - but he is a god of karma and justice, and the innocent - or righteous - have nothing to fear from him. His consort and equal, Lady Floyd the Pink, is followed more by the general populace, a goddess of empathy who preaches the connectedness of all things and the need to step away from the material.
Akkdekk - called Teyente by the orcs - is an enigma. A god of hobs, goblins, and the like, he is always depicted as a short, ugly little fellow, immaculately dressed (but for the fact that he's wearing shorts) and with a soft, dapper cap. He is a god of mischief, of love (read: sex) and of vengeance. When a goblin clan's warriors were wiped out by invaders, he led the women of the clan against them, and singlehandedly defeated the raiders by charging into their midst - and exploding. He came back a moment later, coated from head to toe in black, clinging soot, but otherwise unharmed. Akkdekk's other side is a bit of a mystery - he loves the trappings of courtly life, and is actively steering the orcs under his sway and the goblins toward a system of nobility. Amidst the gods, it has been outright stated that Akkdekk holds the grandest balls of them all - and while there are those that take that to an entirely inappropriate place, perverts like that are best left out of religious discussion.
None remember the Tyrant's original name. What is known is that he hoards his songs jealously, and killed Napstar the Archthief for daring to steal them. While some claim that he has relaxed his grip in recent years, his tyranny restricted to the nations beneath the grip of his followers, none can say if that is true or not yet. A god of warfare and terror, favored by fighters and conquerors, the Tyrant surrounds himself with an army of Things that Should Not Be, Harvesters, and other such eldritch horrors. His lieutenant is Old Boh'Geimon himself, the Sandman, sower of nightmares - although rumor has it that the Bogey doesn't like his employer much nowadays. The Tyrant's armies are fierce, and his strategies are cunning - and yet, he has one downfall. Alcohol - his fuel, his fire, and the one vice he desires.
Zhikae the Blackstar
It is said that a single song haunts the strings of all guitars, it is a melody that when the stars are right, will reveal all liars and thieves... when it was written by a mediocre peddler, he was visited by a voice from beyond the heavens, who sold him the world for his song.
He now drifts through all time, forward and back, up and down, inside and out, wearing a million masks to a million men (and women), a genderless, lithe merchant of sorrows, inspiring and terrifying men and gods alike- haunting the strings and voices of those who would reach beyond their grasps... he is the mad laugh in the dark.... he is the master of spiders and outsiders.
The Caged One
His true name is lost to the sands of time. He is the god of darkness, decrepitude, and isolation. In the past he was one of a dark pantheon, but he betrayed another member of that pantheon and was cast down by the rest for it. In his isolation he has sung to many an unwary and life-hating soul, luring them to his worship with his call and reminding them of the lost glories of the past swallowed by the light.
He has attempted many times to escape his fate, but was imprisoned time and time again by those who would rather his darkness and insanity stay put. Rumors have it, however, that this time he has escaped for good, and seeks to ascend to his former throne...
The Elf of Rainbows
Test not the temper of this god, and tease not his name, for to invoke it is to invoke one of the most powerful occult presences since the Ur-Men first tamed the song into spell.
A mortal once accepted into a wandering band of elves, he was the first to divine the mystical influence of the manual symbol the crone, known among the Orcs as the Horns. After reaching the peak of his prowess as a mortal among the elves, his body subsumed itself into light, becoming one with the Rainbow in whose beauty he first found the Apotheosis of the Song.
He was said to have traveled with the Brotherhood of the Sabbath after his ascension, but parted ways with them at times.
The Elves perpetuate a myth that he was one of them in mortal life. A fickle god, he both honors their pride in their adopted son and shames their greed for his fame by starting cults that bear the truth of his human heritage; these cults savagely war with and surreptitiously sabotage the widespread Church of the Rainbow. These smaller sects revere him as the Holy Diver, and the Man on the Silver Mountain, among other names. His human name is sacred to them, and while they claim to know it, they dare not reveal it.
He is oft worshipped by those who seek his guidance in the realm of the arcane, and is the most common god of Wizards and Shamans. His symbols include the Tiger, dark figures, and the most potent gesture of all: the Horns, sign of the Crone.
It is said that when the universe is torn apart and reformed, when the next world is created, there will be only two things left over from our creation; cockroaches, and the Airsmith. Nearly as old as the Four, the Airsmith has remained unlessened, untainted, and unconquered, although his age has caused him to change his focus somewhat, as has the fact that he has weathered things that would slaughter any other god. When he was young, he was mostly a god of freedom and love; his age has made him realize just how many jaded, broken lovers he has created from his endless flings with mortals, and how many problems there are in the world that simply cannot be solved by ignoring them. This frustration, this cynical edge that seeped into the Airsmith's being that was once simply vented into song, reached a dramatic crescendo during a worker's revolt in one of the citadels. Denied food by their slavers, the Airsmith delivered a grotesque message to his followers, who had reached out for succor from him in their time of need:
Eat the rich.
The war was brief, the workers entirely successful, the acts of cannibalism forgotten by the world at large afterwards - and even by the ones who committed it, as the Airsmith added something to the victory wine to help ease their minds, once he realized just what he had done.
Implied to be the son of the Airsmith, and explicitly the offspring of a fling between a god and a mortal woman, the Sired is a sarcastic, biting young deity who has begun collecting like-minded individuals who just want to tear down the walls of this world, to build something better. Pranksters, wannabes - he cares not for who they were before. In his care, they are urged to come out swinging, to drive their foes before them, to defy those that would dehumanize them.
While most gods have a fairly liberal view of sex - glorifying it to an extreme - the Sired isn't afraid to show the other side of such relationships. As many of his songs describe how sex is used as a tool, a weapon, a thing that only hurts those it touches when one isn't careful, his followers are far more likely to be chaste - or at least monogamous - than those of other gods. And while the Sired is a deity without much respect for the establishment, a rebel god, he is also one with a sense of humor - he has devoted an entire holy track to advice for his followers that have been imprisoned, though it boils down to "don't be no one's bitch!"
As a final consideration, while few of his songs deal with it, the Sired is a genius, and a patron of many mages - particularly transmuters and those that deal with the creation of new life.
The Tenacious Duo
Jables and Kage, two penny-ante bards and devout followers of the great Elf of Rainbows, were able to - through a musical duel with a shining demon - tap into the Song and ascend to a position of minor godhood. The only catch? While they undoubtedly rock, they have been unable to tap into the Song as they did that night - they are even unable to remember the song that they played to vanquish their foe. Of course, this hasn't stopped them from proclaiming their brilliance loudly and to whomever is within listening range, and the powers vested in them with their godhood are still fairly impressive - great physical strength, such that the weakest external part of their bodies can support their half-ton godflesh, and the ability to destroy great beasts from a distance - with MIND BULLETS.
Once a poor boy from a poor family, Frederich the Mercurial grew to be one of the most worshipped bastions of Rock. As a mortal he had many interests (hence his name), including bicycling and seducing the local callipygian gentry. However, his main love was singing; through this, he earned the love of not only his local people but those of many races from around the world, letting them believe in true friendship and that they were the champions. As he grew older and more renowned, he soon grew to rival the king of the land in popularity; knowing that to call himself king would be treason, he jokingly pronounced himself Queen instead, and the name stuck.
He is the patron of many a warlord, helping them convince those under their command that their enemies will be rocked and bite the dust. But also he is the patron of lovers, helping many a young bard to find another and cling together.
The Ever Marching Battalion
The Ever Marching Battalion is not a single deity, rather it is a force which has joined with the one true song and is revered as a pantheon. There are those who believe that they are the reincarnation of these warriors, and seek to ensure that their tale is forever told, and one day return to their comrades.
Long ago, the much of the world was ruled by a single government which claimed to be masters of all they surveyed. A theocracy, claiming to be the heralds of the one true God. Ever paranoid of rebellion, or of schism within their ranks, they fortified every holding they could. They mowed down any that dissented brutally. Their soldiers were cold and heartless on the battlefield. They left their wounded as they died and called it God's will. They employed horsemen whose sole duty it was to spread fear of demons in the people, so that they would rely on their blind faith and not question their leaders. All who lived feared these shadows of murder.
Inevitably, a rebellion arose. A million men, secretly biding their time in the military until the time was right to strike, marched upon the capital. Their mark was the distinguishing spiked iron boots they wore, to symbolize how they would trample the corrupt government. Thousands of feet marched in despair that day as they slew their former comrades and neighbors. When they laid siege to the capital, mages in its towers conjured a winter the likes of which had never been seen before. In the beginning days, thousands died in the mud, in coming months, many more died from the freezing cold. Those left carved the names of the fallen into stones and sang songs of their glory to keep them alive in their hearts.. They vowed that they would honor their names along with their fallen foes forever. Months passed, and eventually all of the rebels in the spiked iron boots passed on. Though they did not know it, they had defeated their enemy, the pure power of the mages' spell is all that kept the cold winter storms going. When the storms had subsided, the people realized that both sides were dead. It is said that now, in the long cold winter, in the raging of storms, that one can hear the marching and singing of those brave warriors in sabatons. There are those who revere them as a deific force, given tribute by those that seek to throw off the shackles of tyranny.
The Keepers of the Seven
It is said that there are seven divine truths in the world, and that there are some who have found them and ascended to godhood through their righteousness. They hold them secret, so that only those are worthy of their power may partake in their glory and be truly alive. In any other hands, this would seem to be a tale that does not end well; however, the Keepers are benevolent, and beckon others to follow the signs that lead to divinity, look into the sky above and see the gods beckoning, and make their choice to initiate themselves into the mysteries. The Keepers do this so that when the gods enter their twilight, the world of the future will remain glorious and bright for at least a little time. To this end they also encourage normal worship, following the basic principles of the Seven without revealing the divine totality of them. Their worshippers gather once a year in a festival called Helloween.
The Cult of the Azure Crassostrea
While not proper gods themselves, this powerful extra-planar entities have been known to take extreme interest in the material. From time to time they send forth an emissary, known as 'The Imaginary One', who will through indirect actions bring about great events in the world.
Their cultist are known for their disdain for death and teach the masses to not fear this natural transcendence. They only have one temple, The Tavern of of the Four Winds, where the cult performs their rituals to he sound of their sacred instrument, the cowbell.
The Million-Soul Fire
A figure from The Tyrant's distant past and early beginnings, The Million-Soul Fire was once a rust-voiced demon which served as furious, raucous general to the growing underworld armies which flocked to the call 'to kill them all' of The Tyrant, The Boh'Geimon, Orion, God of the Celestial Cliffs, and himself. He was self-destructive and violent, bringing equal pain and disarray to his allies as well as his enemies. After such insanities could no longer be suffered, he was cast out of by the Tyrant and the Boh'Geimon, with no chance of recourse despite his pleas for mercy. In great fury, he mustered a few subordinates to spite the Tyrant and his cohorts. Knowing he could not destroy them, he sought to instead steal their praise and worship while perpetuating his own growth until his reclamation of godhood. He gathered worshipers and consumed them until he had enjoyed his fill. At one million deaths, he ascended in power to holiness once more, and his golden hood and mane of fire darkened to heated-metal crimson. He remains immensely powerful and deadly to this day, with a large repertoire of music to dispense and sound. Arrogant, controlling, and fickle of who he surrounds himself by, he bears his power with pride like the tendrils of nuclear immolation which hang about his face.
Masked One of the Conical Crown
The Masked One is pure enigma. Although accessible in his kind, thoughtful, and humorous actions and obvious humanity, he separates himself from the waking world with utter anonymity. He has no self-imposed limits as far as the songs he composes, and ceaselessly produces volumes of music of all temper, tones, and direction. Filled with a vitality that betrays his still ivory expression, and an introspectiveness of character which permeates every fiber of his existence, he lives with immortal patience and infinite appreciation for the facets of reality. He tells or, more appropriately, implies to his followers that they need only sacrifice their true face and identity to achieve his omniscient power and skill. The Masked One can be worshiped by all but those who can not truly appreciate and respect the existence and life which surrounds them. His origins are odd, and most likely falsely propagated by he himself to maintain his identity of no identity. How long he has existed, no one knows.
Men of War
The Gods of War the people within the Kingdom of Steel worship are called throughout the kingdom, the Four Metal Kings, as written in this ancient holy text of a battle witnessed by a lone villager when he was a boy.
"There appeared a lone rider, holding a sword of steel. Then from the south came another, bearing a battle ax. From the east came a third, holding a spiked club. And finally, from the west, a rider who wielded a great hammer of war. With them came their soldiers of death, followed by an army of immortals. They were few in number, but the look in their eyes told all who beheld them that they would leave this day only in victory or death. And there was a great silence..."
The nation thrives off of war and bloodshed of its enemies.
The Maiden of Iron
There is some debate about the origin of the maiden, whether the current holder of the name originated it, some even say that the maiden is multiple people who combined their powers to tap into the song and who's number and names change at will. What is not debatable is the maiden's raw power, once one of the most popular and influential of the gods, even in his waining years the Maiden wields considerable influence.
A god of both war and introspection, The Maiden revels in battle, but knows well the brutal consequences of war. He often appears to his followers in the form of an animated corpse, eye's glowing with hellfire, regaled as a king a pharaoh a common soldier or something altogether more strange.
Ozymandias Osbourne was studying to be a wizard when, on a holy day where the sun was eclipsed, he heard his true calling. He used a combination of his wizardly might and his feel for the Song to declare himself definitively one of the masters of reality along with some others who worked with him. He abandoned those others after some disputes, however, and formed his own following. He was becoming slightly insane by this point; during those days you could often see a long caravan of his insane followers, not quite following one of the paths between towns but making their own. However, when his charismatic high priest Rhoads who was on the way to godhood himself died, the Madman descended into the spiral where he earned his name. Going through a series of high priests like no other god and his antics such as biting the head off an angel for the hell of it earned him his reputation both among mortals and among the gods. Regardless of his derangement, however, he is a generally benevolent god, and thus still maintains a very distinct following. He is the patron of outcasts and those whose genius is considered madness.
The Unseeing Protector
A Winter Elf in life, when this god ascended, he turned back into a storm. He now rides the currents of the winds, waiting for Winter Elves to enter battle.
Blowing onto the battlefield from the coast, the Winter Elves know that once he has arrived, they have true hope for victory. True heroes of this battle will gain a slight glowing effect to their eyes while under his presence.
Rarely, he will manifest in physical form, a cloaked individual whose face cannot be seen, his long cloak dragging in the snow.
The results of attempts by the mortal races to shape the song of their own accord, to recreate the divine notes that brought about all of creation. While the non-deific mind can perceive the tempo, the pacing, the individual notes, this does not mean that they can fully comprehend the meaning of the Song of their own accord. Ever so often, however, the music of the series manages to saturate the workings of a brilliant, receptive, possibly 'mad' mind. Driving by such forces of inspiration, they attempt to sire a new sort of creation, seldom realizing that their inspiration comes from the very thing that they attempt to recreate, thinking it in their own image.
They are myriad shape, created rather than born, but all possess a distinctively mechanical, artificial appearance, resultant of their crafting. They are perhaps the most wide-eyed and innocent of races in their beginning, but individuals quickly find themselves rendered cynical and jaded by the disregard in which they are held, deemed 'lesser' beings for not being created of the Gods as the other races are. Most commonly, they take their creators as a sort of pantheon, instinctively aware of others who might have similarly been touched by the Song and knowing them as equals to their 'Fathers and Mothers'.
Known makers of the Beatcrafted include, among others, the Herbalist Hankok, who created the most organic-yet-mechanical contrast of demi-life in his initial Beatcrafted, Rokkit; Transeau the Dreamer, whose ever-vigilant creation is known only the Somnambulist of the Waking Dream, champion of Simply Being Loved; a strange wanderer known only as the Corpulent Gaunt, who has 'authored' many of the Beatcrafted, including the adventuring twins known as Right Here and Right Now, the notorious thieving menace called Gangsta Trippin', and the Beatcrafted who is known for its attempts to transcend gender and its own construction as a bard known as 'The Rockafella Skank'; and a group of enigmatic crafters who once created a child-form Beatcraft, left in a city to learn and grow on her own, who only left the female-shape with a name - Return to Innocence.
The biggest distinction among the Beatcrafted, as well as their makers, is a rather determined refusal to allow themselves to be categorized in life, or to be grouped by inspiration, modus operandi, and the Beatcrafted they make. Those who tend to create Beatcrafted that are stronger in the intellectual and philosophical pursuits are most commonly described as 'Trancers', not to be confused with Transeau, who simply happens to have a similar mood to match his name. Those who create Beatcrafted of might and violence are usually referenced as the Industrial, if only to match the fairly typical utilitarian appearance of their creations. Where they are created to be things of charming beauty, the creators are often referenced as Dancers, though such appellations are simply those bestowed by individuals who would attempt to find a unifying theme among those who would manufacture Beatcrafted.
Perhaps the most frightening aspect, to mortal minds, are the first known Beatcrafted who have, themselves, created Beatcrafted of their own...
A god worshiped in the temples of Syrinxs who believe the meek shall inherit the earth. He is a nearly celestial being said to come from the future to fix the wrongs of this world and prevent it from becoming the heavily controlled and dystopian land he comes from.
The Starman sits in the center of his most prestigious temple amongst an unearthly forest of tall trees of maples and lofty oaks in a state of pure bliss he gives off a faint glow as a long ray of light shines from his green canopy as his long hair floats carelessly. It is said that those who wonder his silver halls can hear his music coming gently from the apex of the temple, music so progressed and unheard of it only backs up the beliefs he is from the future.
The Traitor Priest
A Magma Dwarf who was once one of the staid clerics of a long-forgotten deity, Robert Halforge abandoned his former post to tap into his ability to embody the Song and become a deity himself. At first he followed his Rock beginnings under his teachers, but he soon rode the wings of destiny into Heavy Metal. His teachings mostly center around hedonism and the pleasures of the flesh, which he was denied during his priesthood; his congregations are often wild, rebellious parties, and often precede the births of many diabolic children. Shrines to him been banned in many towns, due to the fact that if you think you can stop his from breaking the law during one of their romps, well, you've got another thing coming. It is said that they were the cause of several large fires set in certain cities.
Napstar, the Archthief, and the Torrent of Souls
All men know the legend of Napstar the Archthief, the pirate of the sonic seas. The technocrats, in their hubris, weaved together their unfathomable magics into an all-encompassing net, aiming to finally enthrall all men to their will. This net, though not a big truck, nor even a series of tubes, allowed for near instantaneous transfer of the Song, much to the Technocrats chagrin. Napstar was the first to navigate this ether net, bringing the Song to all who would listen. Though the first and most glorious, Napstar was joined by many, including the pirate Kazaar, and the order of the Verdant Wire.
This piracy split the gods into two camps. Those who were subsumed by the infinite greed of the technocrats, gathered beneath the Tyrant himself, and they called for Napstar's head. Some gods, felling a connection to their mortal subjects, followed Napstar's ways, allowing the Song to flow through the web unhindered.
Eventually, the Tyrant, with the aid of the Technocrats, cornered Napstar. Though he fought bravely, he was eventually captured. He was brought to the guillotine in front of the scores of men he brought the Song to. And as the blade fell, Napstar was completely silent. But the anguished roars of the crowd were powerful enough to warp the web itself, creating an ever spinning roil, now known as the torrent of souls.
Thousands of men became pirates that day, demanding that the Song be free for all men. They traverse the torrent, taking what they want, giving what others need, invoking the wrath of the technocrats. The war between the Pirates and the Technocrats rages still. The Technocrats continue to fire their heavy legalese artillery to rip the Bay of Corsairs out of the ether-net, decentralizing the pirates; little do they realize that for every head they blast off of the hydra, 1337 more will take its place. Who knows how this war will end, with freedom and anarchy, or oppression for legality?
The Fallen Lord of Paradise
The fallen lord of Paradise is a young god, born of sorrow and, eventually, self-destruction. He is a gaunt, headless being, constantly dressed in the ragged clothes of a beggar or rat-catcher, who dwells in his own little heaven, unable to view the beauty of his creation. His principle worshippers are the generally melancholic munchkins, who, above all other races, understand the true horror of the Fallen Lord's situation. The Fallen Lord also pities the Munchkins, who teeter on the brink of annihilation, trapped in their blackened citadel. Meeting him in person is about as strange as any encounter with a 'dead' god, and trust me, he should be dead. He moves sluggishly, as do all who stand in his presence. There is a certain mystery surrounding his ascension, a mystery that a curious adventurer might want to read into. He could solve it himself, but he doesn't really care enough.
The Bringers of Glory
Comprised of four demigods, these legends have one driving goal: To bring the common man closer to The Song. While out on tour, they will constantly choose mortal men and raise them up to Sing the Song with other Chosen. With their instruments, they weave ability into the Chosen, allowing them to add their Voice to the Song. Upwards of 10 Chosen may take the stage at any time, though the number varies widely. A lesser effect is added to the audience, who is encouraged to add their voices to the music.
After the show, Chosen return to their mortal lives, enriched by their experiences. It is not uncommon for Chosen to embark on their own journey to embrace the Song.
The Thespians of Imagining
They are a young collective of demi-gods, who began life as a high circle of wizards. They initially met in the Academy of Sorcery at Burk-Lee where such individuals are trained. However, after recognizing the potential in each other, they left the Academy to travel the world and attain deification. They are recognizable by their garments in the hues of the heavens
Theirs was a long struggle, in constant motion, and over the years this circle of brethren faced many challenges. On numerous occasions they lost their keeper of the keys, having to find a replacement that was worthy. They finally found one, known only as the Sorcerer, who was the catalyst for their ascension.
Finally, after many years of toil building a following, they pooled their powers and delved into the past, aided by a new-found skill known as hypnotism. They guided their followers on a journey through time, and showed them how life was, and how it may be, through their eyes. They promised a future of immortality through others, as the spirit carries on.
With this enlightening act, they ascended to the pantheon as demi-gods. They are essentially benevolent, reveling in sorcery and wizardry for its own sake, and not for any specific ends. Still, the power of the Song is strong in them, and they take heart in joining forces with many others, be they deity or mortal. One of their number spends time learning from Their Triune Majesties.
Another, meanwhile, has recently descended to the mortal plane to aid a young collective in achieving their dreams of ascension, following the loss of one of their members. Many believed that this young tribe was finished, but with the aid of their god, they have promised to avenge their comrades loss seven times over.
Such is the power of the Thespians of Imagining.
The Erratic Gäng
Raised up from the lowest gutters of the City of Rain in relatively recent times and having adopted a blend of the message of Rock from both Humans, Elves and Magma Dwarves, the Erratic Gäng (a corrupted phrase of human words which in Munchkin sounds more like saying 'this will shock you') are one of the City's and indeed all of Munchkinism's vents of an otherwise quiet and rarely mentioned force; the strife to escape the gloom and tedium of the everyday and industry, and rise to excel. Reveling in otherwise heavily repressed and tightly controlled traits of the Munchkin race that are normally hidden behind stony faces, nonchalance and manners, such as the propensity for sleazery, greed, lustfulness and insidious cleverness, the Erratic Gäng preach excess, self-gratification and desire in all things, and the rare message among Munchkins that wanting for yourself and living for thrill is not always a bad thing.
Consisting of four members, the Erratic Gäng is popularly depicted as constantly either intoxicated or bruised and maimed or both, beaten down by the harshness of the world and their living but also strengthened and borne aloft by it, sporting great manes of hair and fanciful attire. They are represented in the carnal world by the head prophet of their church who interprets their requests and who finds means and ways for the members of the cult to fund their eccentricity. This masked genius has actually been many men, taking up an identity left behind by their predecessor, and is known only as 'Dr. Feelgood'.
The unknown were a group shrouded in mystery. They showed up out of nowhere raising the question of whom they were. (Who, who, who, who.) They were rambunctious and highly destructive - their tools hardly ever made it through the day. They were comprised of four, Pot who turned the very wind into his favor, Ent Wissle a study being who rocked tremors through the ground. Rodger Danger a man adapt with items on the end of ropes and could turn a apple and a piece of twine into something deadly. Finally the lost brother: Heath Sun, a fast man who was chaotic on the battle field, random and spontaneous, never seen without his twin Mythril rods which he used to deadly force on the battle field. it is unknown what happened to the rods or if they even exist anymore in an unshattered state. After Heaths death, the rest swore to never be fooled again and retired from battle and began their ascent.
It is said that in their early days they were accompanied by a mere child. This unfortunate wretch was deaf, dumb and blind; he had no passage in this world. The Unknown took him under their wing, and taught him a game. A game that he took to like nothing else, and was soon untouchable. It seemed that the child latched onto the survival undertones of the game, he would not let the ball pass through the gates to hell, he would keep it alive for as long as possible.
He eventually parted ways with the unknown, and his fate is lost to us. Some say he became a messiah in himself, but no-one knows.
The Ape Gods
In the deepest parts of the west, there lies a great jungle, where a group of apes have attained sentience. They became aware of the gods, but had no deity that would pay them attention. Around the great mountain called Monkey, they prayed for a god that would lift them up, that would give them a song they could call their own.
They got four.
Myrdahk the Dark, a god of black magics, evil and twisted, and powerful of will. His companion and occasional torture subject, the Dented One, a zombie god whose mind was lost long ago, black eyed and almost innocent - emphasis on "almost". Roshael, of the ur-men, a massive man-mountain who had already reached ascendancy on his own, but whom had been possessed by a group of vengeful spirits - spirits of his slain comrades. And lastly, the Axe Princess, a nameless child warrior-goddess from the distant continents.
Despite being of vastly differing foci and ethics, despite the fact that the gods at large have convinced themselves that the Ape Gods do not exist, despite the fact that their greatest followers at the moment are mere gorillas... they play on. Because all things come to ruin in time, meaning that right now, they've got nothing to lose - so they focus on the one message that they have in common, the one thing that they hope their followers will learn and take to heart: "It's the music that we choose".
The Lord of the Watchtower
Long ago he rose from among the ur-men, his skill with his instrument incomparable amongst mortal men, some said that even the song itself bent to his will. So bright was his flame that he ascended to godhood and left the lands of mortals long before his time. Even in his absence riffs of his making play upon mortals, setting them in a purple haze, and drawing them forth in a quest to attain that which only he has accomplished before them.
The Horned Lord
Little is known for sure about this dark individual. There are two major sects that worship him.
The first are a group of elves, who hold that the Horned Lord is a god unto himself. At the gatherings between these individuals, which are said to create an anomaly of spiritual darkness in the sky above them like a black mark of their taint, one can hear the chant of their master's mantra. It is an edict against their foes: to let their streets run with their blood, their cities to burn in unholy fire, to let them know death. The Horned Lord is depicted by these elves as such; as much beast as man.
The other group is one of Iron Dwarves, who believe that he is instead the messiah for a greater pantheon of metal-aligned gods. Though not as insidious as the elves who worship him, these dwarves are inspired to similar acts; more than once they have banded together to pillage other cultures, leaving with their boats full of loot and the enemy shores in flames and ruin. He is often depicted by this group as a mighty warrior, often with the symbol of a hammer inscribed on his chest.
The Roaring One
This man ascended into god hood long ago but wishes to stay and mingle with humans as he only wishes to party, he HAS to party he claims the party will survive. A hedonistic man choosing to surround himself with fine ales, wrenches and friends (Which is to say anyone) and despite never being in a fight he has a constantly bloody nose. When the Roaring one is not partying he is putting his charisma to work as a motivational speaker. It is said that 3 words from this man can send a whole city into a state of doing the undoable, breaking the unbreakable. He wonders if one waits till tomorrow will it ever actually come? And because of this he lives every moment to its max and pushes the very limit of reality and his followers attempt to do the same.
The Crimson Order of Ha'Bin-ero
This brotherhood of battle seeks apotheosis, much as the Four had achieved in days of yore. Led by a similar quartet, their path to their goal leads into a mystical plane oft-mentioned by others of the realm, Kahl Lih-foronya. Many question whether or not they've managed to reach that legendary place, but they spread many tales of it, which lends credence to their claims. The group's original leading composition was the brawling man who fought in chains known as the Jack of Irons; savage axe wielder Lilslo Vakhil; the infamously cheerful, ruthless maniac known only as the Blood Louse of Bahl-zari; and Dammet Cole, AKA the Swan, Spinner of Sugared Words. The untimely death of Lilslo drove the Jack of Irons to a despair-filled departure, and for a time the Crimson Order faced dissolution. While others passed through their ranks, lingering briefly, they re-coalesced when the masked mastercrafter known only as The Smith joined their ranks. Though he forges and repairs the equipment of the Crimson Order, he is known to slip away for projects of his own. The second-in-command position is in flux once more, however, due to coming and going of Phrushiante the Addict - who seeks to shed his appellation. In his absence, the remarkably multi-talented 'Clinging' Adam has filled in, humbly and without indulging in the plethora of drug-fueled orgiastic binges that are known to be Phrushiante's weakness.
Artificers are an allowed class, but are rarely player characters, as the Artificers are usually trained in guilds run by the evil Technocrats. Artificers that follow a god devoutly, following their commands to the letter, are called Roadies, for their role; making sure that the other champions of the gods are able to stay on the road successfully.
All spells have a verbal component. Silence and Zone of Silence are profane spells that are only able to be cast by followers of demons. Any spells with a material component cost of less than 100 GP are considered to have no material components.
Druids are not the neutral protectors of the wilds that they are in most settings - in this world, they are the embodiment of the fury of nature, as much as any barbarian or ranger, and they live to give voice to the laws of nature. As every living entity, whether plant or animal, is connected to the song, this is more possible than most think it to be.
The civilizations of the world are connected by the Black Roads. A living, vital construct, the webwork of black stone was an experiment in self-replicating constructs gone awry, and yet, the result was greater than anything the wizard had considered. A self-creating series of roads, smooth, hard, and needing no maintenance, that would stretch from sea to sea, seeking out outposts of civilization, growing in places that would make good spots for a road to be - the construct obviously had some sort of intellect. The black roads grew for twenty years; they have now ceased, but the entire continent is neatly webbed by them. Rumors - or superstitions - persist that it is bad luck to drive slowly on the Black Roads, lest the road itself curse you, and that one day they will start burrowing beneath the crust, delving to Dragontown itself, creating an actual highway to Hell.
HEAVY MYTHRIL uses (optionally) a version of Earthflame's Break system.
At first level, characters receive one Break - their Lucky Break, a manifestation of the Song within them. When dramatically appropriate, they may use the Break Point, and when they do, something gets broken, be it the rules of the game (almost always), an object within the game, or the fabric of probability. If the break is described in a suitably epic way, it occurs, and the player earns at least one break point back - however, the player himself is "broken" temporarily, fatigued greatly for the remainder of the day, or sickened.
If the Break is used in a weak, pointless, or flavorless way (IE, with no descriptive roleplay behind it - you miss someone and you say "okay, I'm using my Break to hit him anyway) - the Gods of Rock frown upon you, and the Break is lost completely. If it was your only Break, you're SOL until the next level, when you get another Lucky Break.
Now, Breaks can be used in many ways - here's an example of things you can do with a break.
- Shatter a wooden gate or simple stone door (but not a metal or hugeass reinforced stone door)
- Bend the very winds so that an arrow - or indeed, a volley of arrows - come down upon a particular point. (Effectively add +10 to a group of attacks, changing their target)
- Convert lethal damage dealt to a target to nonlethal.
- Counter a spell as it is being cast.
- Roll 2d20 on any given roll instead of one.
Breaking Points are the more potent version of Breaks. They are absolute, and cannot be Broken themselves - using a Breaking Point means that you accomplish whatever single task you set out to do, as long as it's not something balls-insane like "Conquer this kingdom in two minutes" or "Kill the Airsmith". It must be described in full, as Breaks must. A Breaking Point costs seven Breaks.
The catch? When you use a Breaking Point, things you don't intend to break get broken. There are horrible consequences that spread throughout the world, consequences you did not intend - a Breaking Point may very well kill you if used.
Lastly, there are Worldbreakers. Costing Seven times Seven plus Seven breaks, (56, for those keeping track), Worldbreakers tear the universe asunder to accomplish their goals. There is NO limit on what a Worldbreaker can accomplish, but the widespread devastation is so great, that... well, only a few people have ever broken the world in this way, and they have all done it to ascend to godhood. The Tenacious Duo did this when they ascended, though how they acquired the requisite number of breaks without killing themselves is a mystery.
- Before linear time - The era of the Titans. The perfect society. The coming of the Dark One. The fall of paradise. The creation of the world, which would act as the Dark One's trial.
- 50,000 BEFORE ASCENSION (BA) - Dawn of the titanspawn
- 40,000 BA - Titanspawn begin to quabble amongst each other; it becomes clear that they will not last in this world. Ur-men created to carry their bloodline into the world. Rise of other great races through various origins.
- 20,000 BA - Creation of the Guitar
- 18,000 BA - Creation of Blues and the Harmonica
- 15,000 BA to 5,000 BA- The formation of what would become the recognizable great nations of the modern age; Terros (which would become the Mror Holds and Oir), Shai Atle (Which would shrink until it consisted of the City of Rain), Lerenath, the Lands of Oil and Spice (Whose kingdoms have changed names and borders frequently since the days of old, but whose legacy remains untainted and unbroken), Ossar, and the Free Citystates.
- The only modern nations of note that were not founded in this era were Cog and Cragg.
- 2232 BA - Birth of the Man in Black
- 2235 BA - Birth of the bodhisattva called The King
- 2200 BA - Era of Stone begins. Terros divides in civil war between the Mror Holds and the Lands of the Bold (officially renamed Oir in 2144). First Guild of Willworkers formed in the Free Citystates.
- 0 BA - Ascension of the Four. Death of The King. Rise of the Cult of the King.
- 1 A - Rise of the Airsmith.
- 2 A - 30 A - The Great Revolution of the Gods.
- 33 A - Rise of the orcish lands of Cragg; slaughter of the previous inhabitants.
- 39 A - Rise of the Technocracy of Cog.
- 51 A - Wudang Monastery founded.
The Free Citystates
The vast plains of Hartland, the Steel Gulf to the north, the snow-capped peaks of the Centris Mountains - formed when the Titan Centris himself died - and the vast Pancentric Coast are all claimed by the so-called Free Citystates - a collection of feudal states that are at least nominally controlled by elected officials, and have a consistent, universal non-aggression pact with each other. Of course, this does not mean that they are on friendly terms - in fact, the wording of the pact just means that wars between them cannot be fought with citizens of the Citystates. Foreign mercenaries are fair game.
There are currently 108 Citystates, which will not be listed here for space reasons, and for the fact that half of them are tiny, podunk towns which youths spend their childhood dreaming of leaving in the dust. Wide spots on the Black Roads, nothing more. There are, of course, more than a few exceptions to this rule.
New Jack City, which some claim was the first settlement on the continent, is a city that should have died ages ago. Beneath the water level, protected by levees and by the Twin Ladies in the harbor - Liberty facing out towards newcomers, Justice standing at her back facing in - it is a miracle that no great storms have hit the city in centuries. NJC is a city whose soul is constantly in peril - there is a strong pro-Technocracy sentiment amidst the populace, particularly among the merchants, and it is one of the few cities where temples to the seducer daemons are constructed publicly.
And yet, for all the darkness, for all the soul-defiling blight that the city contains, The Song is strong there. On the great Broad Way, temples to the Song's might line every block, and in the neighborhood of the Green Witch (so named for a druid's cottage that has long since rotted away and been built over) those that embrace the Song's glory and spread it outnumber those that merely listen.
The city strongest in The Song is actually a Technocracy by name - Detroit Rock City. Many great gods have sprung from the infertile, oil-soaked soil that surrounds the town on the Steel Gulf, from the Knights in the Song's Service to the strange cult of the Dark Carnival. While the Technocracy there is strong, it allows the souls of its inhabitants to breathe freely, and so the machinations created there, the great Thunder Chariots, are constructs that also bear a soul, not defiling creations of death and pain. Other great Citystates include the Air City of the south - little more than a massive hub for zeppelin transport, but also possessing the processing plant for the great speed potion Koce - the city of Lost Angels to the west, the dusty sprawl of Nash, and the tangle of one-way streets and cruel spires called Chi-Town.
The City of Rain
Separate from the Free Citystates stands the City of Rain. While the Free Citystates all control the land within 50 miles of the city walls, The City of Rain controls no land beyond its border, except the immediate area where its archers can target foes. Legally, anyway - no one really cares to try to claim the high, sharp spires about the city that surround the bay it sits on, the cold bay that remains chilled, still, and free of interference by means of the great mountainous peninsulas that seal it off from the rest of the sea, creating a pocket that traps vast amounts of clouds in - meaning that the City of Rain is indeed rainy for 300 days a year on average. It does not snow there, though it is often cold enough that the rain freezes, and rarely does the temperature reach above 50 degrees. In such a repressive environ, it is no wonder that the Munchkins who created the city are by and large so nihilistic and cynical.
The City of Rain does have one great boon working for it - beyond the patronage of the Fallen Lord of Paradise, anyway. The Magi-Net, the great network of crystal balls that allows information to flow across the world, is centered there; anyone attacking the city would have a horde of angry wizards at their throats in hours.
The Mror Holds
Across the Steel Gulf lies the homeland of the Iron Dwarves, the only access point to the Free Citystates being the Armistice Bridge in Detroit Rock City. A vast, rocky land of mountains, ice, and more mountains, the Mror Holds are largely fortresses carved into the rock faces, their supplies coming from underground farms and mines. There is no technocracy in the Holds, and the engineering and artifice so common in the Free Citystates is almost unheard of there. The Iron Dwarves greatly prefer magic that is "pure and untainted", to the machinations of the artificers. Even the Magi-Net does not reach every part of the Holds.
The Mror Holds are governed by a council of kings - seven kings rule the Holds, each one taking his own kingdom, but no decisions are made without the consent of the other six. Because any decision that changes things too greatly is always shouted down by at least five of the kings, the Holds remain as they were, in perpetuity...
Set apart by a great channel that was sliced into the crust by powerful magics, Oir is as rocky as the Mror holds, but its hills are low and rolling, capped with green. The severe climate of the rocky mountains across the channel is blunted, cool and damp versus driving and icy, and rains tend towards soft mists versus pounding storms. Despite the placid, quieter weather, the sky is often patched with bursts of black smoke - for those rolling, soft hills are dome volcanoes, and most are still active. It is here that the Magma Dwarves have made their home, fiercely independent - and to Dragontown with anyone that would dare to invade! - but on good terms with anyone that isn't trying to tell them what to do and how to do it. Well, except for those gloomy bastards in the Mror Holds...
Oir literally means "Hearth" in the Auld Dwarven tongue, and it explains what Oir is to the Magma Dwarves - a place of family, of respite, of rejoicing. The fact that the whole nation could one day erupt, slaughtering them all, just never seems to occur to them - or perhaps it's because a combination of clever invention and potent warding spells have begun to harvest the magma, to use the heat in their civilization's industry. Indeed, most industrial labor is done with semi-intelligent magma golems, overseen by a crew of magewrights. The populace of Oir is 80% Magma Dwarf, 20% miscellaneous other, and is ruled by an elected Parliament.
The great land of Ice and Snow where Zepp himself is said to hail from, Lerenath is the home of the Winter Elves, the Ice-Men, and no small amount of Orcs and Hobs. Any laws in the vast icy plains are centered on the settlements a body is currently staying in, and while these rules are few, they are enforced harshly. One Ice-Man settlement decides all matters deemed dull by the local judge via darts - the two parties stand across from each other, shirtless, with targets painted on them, and throw darts at each other. The first to show any signs of pain loses the suit - or, if neither shows pain, the one with the highest score. Lerenath is a beautiful country; the crystalline ice flows hold vast deposits of cold iron and mythril, and the cold wilderness is overrun by owlbears and other such mystical beasts. It is a land where despite the constant threat of raiders and the cruelty of the people, life is generally peaceful and - for many - utopian. It is the land chosen by many Gods of Metal as their holy place.
Of course, that means that it has been set upon by demons as of late; beasts of fire and death seeking to melt the very foundations of the nation. They have been unsuccessful... for now...
The kingdom of Steel
Out of most kingdoms, the Men of War, or Steelites, are by far one of the most brutal, heaviest, military-nations of the world. Their kingdom spans through deserts, plains and forests and out to the farthest coasts of the northeast. They were led by one who had marched for revenge on the elders who had taken his land and fortune and was dragged into the underworld, calling himself the Dark Avenger, and formed the regiment known as the Brothers of Metal. They hailed and killed, spilling much blood for their many gods of war. Many years ago, the Dark Avenger had discovered the Gloves of Metal, and it corrupted him, and eventually, he died for the metal. Ever since the Brothers of Metal had rebuilt their ranks since that last, bloody battle. Their blood is of molten rock, and their skin is made of steel. Eventually, the Brothers of Metal had discovered new artifacts hidden within their kingdom's Blackwindfire mountain range, the crown of Uther and the ring of Shand'grula, ancient demons that had walked the earth long ago. With these, they had created a new kingdom, led by a new king, who would be the king of kings. For many, many years this new king ruled into a bright and new age, sending his men out when the call to war was heard... The one call he had heard from the Gods of War, the three mighty words beckoning the entire kingdom to war with the other peoples of the world...
Hail and kill.
Cog and Crag
Two island nations bridging the vast oceans between the Land of Oil and Spice and the other nations, Cog lies in the Pancentric Ocean, Crag in the Attilan.
Cog is a great technocracy, where the very souls of the inhabitants are enslaved to the Technician-Overseers. Any land that existed in Cog was stripped away and molded, until nothing remained but a great machine, one that constantly draws magical energy from beneath the sea, pouring it out onto its peoples, enhancing their strength... their endurance... robbing them of the ability or will to sleep... making a perfect army of worker drones... but for what purpose, none can say. The people of Cog are rarely visited except in emergencies, as they have begun to withdraw from the world recently; as of last year, they have begun opening fire on random ships that come close to them.
Crag has a similar temperament in its dealings with the outside world, for completely different reasons; Crag is a nation of orcs. They have captured a tiny island that was used as a supply stash by the Ossaran Navy centuries ago, and have converted it into a small nation of their own. Amazingly, by raiding and by using what little fertile ground there is to grow herbs that are considered contraband in most places, they have prospered. Those that enter Crag must surrender all weapons, pay a hefty fine, and be watched at all times; that said, a few still do every year to stock up on the best trollweed in known existence, or to purchase the services of orc mercenaries.
The great island kingdom opposite Oir, Ossar is ruled mostly by men. A noble kingdom, Ossar is where the Four arose, as well as many other gods, such as the Madman. It is a spirited, proud nation, once a great superpower with holdings across the Lands of Oil and Spice, even extending to the Free Citystates. Now Ossar is just one great island, its holdings retracted, its gaze turned inward; its rulers have become a bit off in the head, attempting to "protect" its citizens through a more and more arcane series of laws that border on tyrannical, though so far it is still safe to live there... so far.
The Lands of Oil and Spice
The Lands of Reason, where mankind first came into existence, it is hard to generalize about the land that finishes the ring of the world. A dynamic, ever changing political clime means that the nations of the Land of Oil and Spice change every few years, mostly in bloodless coups. The people that live there experiment endlessly with new musics, new magics, new philosophies, and yet, they remember the past more keenly and fully than any other place on the crust. It is here that the Wudang Monastery lies, that the mountain that was the titan Gormhos stands - the only titan to remain upright after death, and the only one whose face is still visible in stone - that the great foundries of the ironclad yard produce the finest ships known to man, and that the Endless Library keeps record of all existence.
The Eastlands are the lands to the far, far east. It is a land of honor. They do not have gods, but mostly dress wildly. Most people have spiky hair, and follow the VisKai religion.