Setting:Heavy mythril

Heavy Mythril is a setting where rock, punk, and metal are real, tangible forces.

Races

Humans

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.

Elves

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.

Dwarves

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.

Munchkins

The smallest race of all the civilized folk, standing a good three feet tall on average, munchkins were one 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.

Orcs

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

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.

Gods

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.

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.

Lord Alice

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/Teyente

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.

The Tyrant

None remember the Tyrant's original name. What is known is that he hoards his songs jealously, and killed the archmage Napp 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 Airsmith

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.