The Lion King
The slaughter fields of the Crucible are littered with the dead; rusted arms and ancient bones intermingled with fresh corpses from the day prior.
Countless ruins from ancient fortifications dot the landscape, each structure withered down and lain to waste by eternal warfare.
OUT-OF-CHARACTER INFORMATION
- Intent: To give the Jotnar a home in the Netherworld from which enough bloodshed allows them to strike out against the mortal realm.
- Image Credit: Creative Assembly
- Canon: N/A
- Permissions: N/A
- Links:
- Landmark Name: The Crucible
- Classification: Battlefield/Wasteland
- Location: Netherworld
- Affiliation: The Jotnar
- Size: Massive
- Population: Moderate
- Demographics: Jotnar [100%]
- Accessibility: The Crucible exists as a sliver of the Netherworld, with all its twisted logic and warped reality, and thus cannot be reached through means other than plunging oneself into this otherworldly realm by discovering one of its rifts scattered about the galaxy. No direct route to the Crucible currently exists, forcing would-be adventurers to navigate the nonsensical realms of the Netherworld until they reach the endless fields of slaughter. Why anyone would willingly look for such a horrid world is beyond all rational thought.
- Description: The Crucible, called such by its native Jotnar for the eternal challenges it presents, is comprised of one endless battlefield where war is constant, pitting the numerous tribes against one another and spilling blood until such an amount is reached that the imposing Blood Gate awakens, summoning all the warriors to charge into the material realm in the name of slaughter. It is an ashen, volcanic wasteland where no green grows and the skies are a constant fiery black maelstrom seemingly at war with itself. This hellscape is where the dreaded Jotnar thrive and butcher until the day of bloody revelry arrives.
The Blood Gate: This massive, towering obsidian spire seems to touch the skies with its black fumes pouring out of the top. Every drop of blood spilt across the Crucible somehow ends up here, gathered in one of its impossibly deep pools. Once at the point of overflowing, the dark magic of the spire stirs, draining its supply of blood to power the rift to the Realms of Man, as the locals call them. This hellish rift can theoretically lead to any world, but as Midvinter has not only endured but even proven a match for them, the single-minded nature of the Jotnar will likely see them return to despoil the planet further.
NETHERWORLD INFORMATION
- Lucidity: This particular piece of the Netherworld follows, for the most part, the same laws as the outside galaxy. Were one to visit, everything would feel as if these lands, apocalyptic as they are, existed out in the real world. That is until one's capacity for rational thinking is replaced with an insatiable need to maim and kill. A few more notable discrepancies between this realm and the galaxy are:
- Every drop of blood spilt is collected by the Blood Gate, regardless of whether one was to take steps to prevent this.
- As a person racks up kills, they descend further into bloodlust as horrific mutations are rewarded, until said person is no longer recognisable and all humanity is stripped away.
- Hostility: Any would-be adventurer would be met with a vast wasteland bereft of light or comfort. War reigns supreme, as its natives battle it out among themselves for ever-greater rewards. Visitors would be seen as just another enemy and attacked on sight by not only sentient lifeforms, but also the feral demons roaming the battlefield living off an endless supply of fallen warriors. Sunlight does not exist, replaced with raging firestorms littering the skies. The air is dry with volcanic fumes poisonous to anyone reliant on oxygen. There are no sources of water to be found, nor do plants grow. An oppressive kill-or-be-killed atmosphere infests every facet of the Crucible, and even if visitors somehow survive the hostile nature of this realm, their minds will not.
- IC Rules: This unforgiving realm within the Netherworld tugs at a person's capacity for violence, pushing even the most tender pacifist towards acts of hitherto unspeakable savagery. Rationality is drained over time, replaced with rage and the urge to kill. Only the most disciplined of minds could possibly withstand prolonged exposure, though would experience a lapse of sound judgement and shortness of temper which would degrade over time before they too fall prey to the promise of power. All it asks in return is blood. Copious amounts of blood. Once enough sanguine glory is achieved, a person may be "blessed" with various physical, irreversible mutations, turning them into horrific monstrosities.
It is unknown how old this realm-within-realms truly is. Given its twisted similarities with Midvinter, it may well share its lifetime, or perhaps it has always existed as part of the Netherworld. Regardless, the Crucible has seen many ages come and go without a care, having remained the same for untold millennia.
This blasted wasteland is home to the savage Jotnar, a species of blood-crazed zealots hellbent on spilling blood - any blood - in the hope that doing so will unlock the Blood Gate, with which their kind may take their slaughter to another world entirely. They are a truly cruel race, caring for nothing but furthering their own personal glory in battle, seeking to "improve" themselves through mutations granted by the Crucible.
There is no evidence that any visitor has ever set foot in the Crucible, for to reach this sliver of the Netherworld is truly a feat of its own, let alone surviving long enough to tell the tale. A direct route has yet to be discovered, requiring a would-be adventurer to jump through possibly countless rifts before the random nature of the Netherworld decides to spit one out into this hostile wasteland where no respite is offered. There are no sources of water with which to wet parched throats, and the volcanic fumes rising from cracks in the earth's crust are sure to poison whoever relies on oxygen to survive.
Besides being home to the many tribes of the Jotnar, each with its own Warchief leading them, the barren fields are roamed by various monstrous beasts of unspeakable horror. These are in fact not different species of wildlife, but rather Jotnar so mutated that they've completely lost all sentient thought, and now roam the wasteland as mindless creatures. Seen as no longer human, the Jotnar will happily hunt them down in order to feed their tribe, effectively cannibalizing their own kind.
These are but a few examples of the sheer brutality needed to survive the Crucible; a fitting name indeed for its constant trials and tribulations.
