Harthrakken
Land of Industrial Metal
Just off the northwest coast of Fyrotherre, there is a long silty island almost entirely covered by one enormous city, the industrial wasteland of Harthrakken. The technological prowess of this nation is unparalled anywhere else in the wörld. The armies of Harthrakken roam far and wide in search of conquest and raw materials, commanded by the tyrannical Iron Duke, who is permanently encased in a life-giving artificial lung.
Harthrakken Island is the only known source of the bright chrome metal known as the Metal of Industry. The power of animation is somehow stored within this metal, so that it can be used to craft automatons with high levels of consciousness. All robots in Fyrotherre and beyond came originally from the great brick factories of Harthrakken. With these steel armies the Iron Duke has conquered a large stretch of the Fyrotherran coast. However, recently a large number of robots unexpectedly seceded from Harthrakki dominion and formed their own city-state on the mainland.
Despite the authoritarian government, the streets of Harthrakken are still rife with crime and violence. Half-human thugs, their limbs replaced by automail, murder each other in vicious gang wars and ambush unwary travellers who fail to notice the telltale signs of a 'fire zone', a district of the immense city where law and order has broken down.
Sounds like: Nine Inch Nails, KMFDM, Tool.
Travesty
Land of Grindcore
A peninsula emerging from the southwest of Fyrotherre, this land is inhabited by a race of violent cannibals who, despite their dishevelled appearance, hold quite a sophisticated understanding of philosophy and aesthetics. It is the Travestites' stated goal to systematically explore every possible act of depravity. No stone can be left unturned - thus, incest, fratricide and infantophagy are all everyday occurances. Apparently the Travestites believe that when every permutation of horror has been perpetrated and recorded in their Book of Truths, then the world will come to an end.
Considering how disorganised the Travestites are, it is something of a mystery why they have survived so long without any master. One theory is that the peninsula is simply lacking in resources and not worth invading; another, more sensationalist claim is that the Travestites are trained in an ancient martial art with which one man can massacre a thousand.
No metal is native to the land of Travesty; instead, there are certain stones called Grindcores which occur naturally in the earth here. Covered in rippling serrated edges, these stones can be activated with magic, causing them to burrow toward the nearest source of heat, usually a human heart. Steel, stone and magical barriers are powerless to stop the Grindcore's progress, but Black Metal is too hard for it to pierce.
Sounds like: Napalm Death, The Locust, Carcass.
Jester's Court
Land of Neue Deutsche Härte
Between Travesty and Harthrakken there is a small city-state, relatively young, having been formally founded only a few dozen years ago. Ruled by the violent and capricious Lord High Jester, the Court is a rich trading port given over to every form of hedonism and licentiousness. Mad jester-priests in ever-changing motley enforce a constant adherence to the bizarre, the cruel and the surreal. Law and fashion are one in this place, and both change on a daily basis. Spontaneous carnivals may dazzle visitors to the place, only to transform without warning into depraved blood orgies.
Deep beneath the streets of the Court lies the Lord's Labyrinth, a prison for the unfortunate convicts who failed to keep the Jester's laws. Here they are trapped in spells of illusion, destined to wander corridors both real and imagined until they die of starvation or are killed by a trap. The elite of the city make sport of watching them through a series of glass ceilings and scrying-portals. Although it is very difficult, some few prisoners have escaped from the Labyrinth, whereafter they are set free by order of the Jester. In fact, if they can find three of the Royal Coins that are scattered through the tunnels, then they are allowed to pick one of the city's nobles, murder him and take his place.
It is whispered that the Lord High Jester, who founded the city through strength and cunning, is an exile from the land of Travesty. Furthermore, some say that the Travestites consider him a heretic to their weird religion and are plotting his downfall. Regardless of his origin, it is known that he came to power through shrewd use of Härte Metal, a green ore. The process of forging a Härte Metal item involves a ritual to bind it to a certain owner. Thereafter, anyone who wears or carries the item will be utterly enslaved to the will of the item's owner.
Sounds like: Oomph!, Rammstein, Laibach.
Next on the Wörld of Metal Gazetteer: The Seas.
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