Åskhallen (au-Skahl-en)

The thundering plains of rock and iron and screams, this world is highly unorthodox, leaving many questions in the mind of the UGF who know of it.

Local Creation Myth

Natives and residents of Åskhallen hold the belief that their world is steeped in ancient history, where ancient, ugly creatures once walked the earth, before a beast tore open the sky, and shed light upon them, forcing them to look upon one another's countenance.

The actual creation story of Åskhallen

In the beginning, there existed only the void, darkness. The Primordials, with twisted, hideous forms, preferred the shadows, as they needn't look upon themselves. One fateful day, however, the Beast of Flame and Metal roared across the abyss, not unlike an angry comet. The Primordials drew back in fear and hate, as the beast's mighty body burned so brightly, illuminating the world and the hateful creatures walking it. The beast was named Lögamálmdýr, in time, a creature loathed, and conspired against; the Primordials, in their underground sanctuary, dreamed of one day slaying Lögamálmdýr, and extinguishing his light forevermore.
It is said that the Primordials spent their days feeding from an unusual tree, named Sangträd, whose bark sprouted unusual growths for drinking. From those growths, a thick nectar flowed from the tree's roots, roots which bore so deep into the ground that they reached into untouched, forgotten places. There, a wondrous creature, beautiful by nearly all measures, sang to the roots of Sangträd, and the tree turned this song into nourishment for the hateful beings above. One of the Primordials, a creature of greed and malice, delved into the unknown, and discovered the beautiful being singing to the roots. Immediately, he set to capture her in a cage, forcing her to sing on his command, granting him nigh-unlimited power over all creatures, and becoming a Lord over the world; the First Lord.
The First Lord plotted for years, exploiting his powers, before his eyes turned to bringing down Lögamálmdýr. Forcing the Singer to lure the Beast of Flame and Metal to the earth, where the Primordials, setting aside their self-loathing for but a moment, tracked the beast down and attempted to douse his body with mud. The dousing proved fruitless, as rather than become extinguished, Lögamálmdýr let out an earth-shattering cry, and detonated with the force of a sun. Millions of pieces of his steel flesh pierced the ground, veining the world with ore, while his flames shot into the sky, becoming a ball of flaming light; the sun. The Primordials not destroyed in the explosion were swept away as the Beast of Flame and Metal's blood flowed in mighty torrents, drowning them as it filled the recesses of the surface, forming the oceans. The death cry of the Beast's reached such a volume that, to this day, it's said to still echo across the world. The hateful felled Lögamálmdýr, but his death provided a bright new future, seeded with elements that would help blossom into a new era. Blood, Fire, Noise, and Metal, the elements of power.
For aeons, the only thing inhabiting the surface was fire, smoke, and the screams of Lögamálmdýr, until, from the oceans of blood arose new life, creatures of various form and sizes. The worst was the twisted, tainted remains of the Primordials, imbued with the Primordial shapes, but the angry power of the Beast of Flame and Metal. They were hated, feared, and nearly wiped out. Another creature, bearing the beauty of the Singer, and the size and might of the Beast, spared the twisted creatures from death, taking them in as pets. The twisted Primordials, shamed by their deformities, wrapped themselves in tight, restrictive garments, in an attempt to look more like their merciful masters.
The merciful saviors, who were christened posthumously as Titans, mined Lögamálmdýr's steel flesh from the ground, and found that it retained much of the will of the fallen Beast, including his desire for speed. They forged blades, and axes, that flew through the air so fast that they could not be seen by the naked eye, and armor so light that it quickened the footsteps of their warriors. Their chariots, once hewn of wood and stone, when forged from the steel flesh, became so quick that it was hard to find beasts fast enough to pull them. In time, they abandoned the beasts, after one of their number proposed the idea of moving a chariot under its own power. At the heart of these rolling temples to Lögamálmdýr sat a fiery engine, roaring with the Beast's death cry, and with these "hot rod"s, the Titans spread themselves across the globe.
The civilization of the Titans exploded, with burgeoning technology and art. Culture flourished, echoing with the sound of pounding metal as gleaming metal structures, standing tall and proud, vaulted against the sky. From this mingling, this collision of artistic passion and sonic overload, a new kind of music was born, spreading throuhout Titans civilization. It was as hard and heavy as the Beast's metallic flesh. It had the power of his blood, the heat of his fire, the speed of his flight, and the mighty roar of his death cry. But, it also bore the angelic beauty of the Singer, with but a touch of her mournful wail. Its words told the story of a fierce and noble age, an anthem of the people, and they called it Heavy Metal.
After being used to lure Lögamálmdýr to his death, the Singer was left to cry alone in the darkness for an eternity. She wept for so long, her tears turned into an ocean of unfiltered sorrow, sweeping the crumbling beauty into it. Those that drink from this Sea of Sorrows is granted power, but cursed with an all-consuming grief. Most of the 'tear-drinkers' are turned mad, and destroy everything around them- themselves included- in a murderous rage. The Titans nearest dropped a mountain on top of the sea to keep themselves, and the other creatures, safe from its allure. From the cracks in the mountain, though, echoes of the Singer's song slip through, inviting the mournful to lose themselves in the sea of sadness.
In time, the Titans ascended, becoming all-knowing entities of spiritual perfection, their mortal forms buckling under the weight of their power. In their surprisingly hot winter years, they inscribed instructions for the future, shaped the natural world to assist the other races, by teaching spiders to spin webs of metal string, and trees to sprout metal pipes as branches. They provided their secrets in fiery rune before they soared into the heavens, becoming Metal Gods in their own right.
The descendants of the Primordials could never comprehend the Titan's instructions, they were too consumed by feelings of betrayal, and felt that they had been abandoned by their merciful masters. The descendants searched high and low for their masters, finding naught but a single flake of skin. They worshipped the flake, though, and, wielding dark and bloody magics they'd discovered while under the protection of the Titans, they sought to reanimate, to bring a Titan to life, from this single shred of one's being. Their magics succeeded, partially, as they had created something in the image of the Titans, but the creatures were no larger than the descendants.
For the first centuries, humanity was under the heel of the Twisted Descendants, handing to them cruelty and malice, scorning them for their unwitting mockery. One day, however, a leader arose, rallying humankind into a rebellion against the twisted beings. Under this leader, humanity learned to create weapons, cars, and even clothing from the world around them. Humanity has long fought hard and bitter against their slavers, and had actually started to turn the tide. In desperation, the Descendants broke the seal on the Sea of Sorrows, hoping it would break the rebellion. At first, the allure brought human to drink, and gave them mighty powers, cutting down Descendants faster, but then, madness started to grip the drinkers, and sowed a destructive chaos among their ranks. Crushed, and lost, the leader- the only man to not give into the sorrow- set into the horizon, leading noncombatant survivors away from the battlefield, before ultimately disappearing, never to be seen again. It is said that the man attempted to slay the leader of the Descendants.

Focused Schooling

Åskhallen is home to some very particular kinds of schools, specifically those that aim to blend Lögamálmdýr's scream with conventional magics. Some refer to these as 'bards', and, as they don't have an official name in their own right, no one corrects this.
The Metallians- including April Dawn- are known to return here often, to keep fresh on the teachings of old, as well as demonstrate their powers for the people.

DC2701

Type

Planet

Location under

Driegöden Crucible