Odrun Fell

Odrun Fell – A History

In an age when the gods still walked the earth, the last of the titans made his stand. Odrun was his name—colossal, battle-scarred, and unyielding. In the war’s final hour, the gods struck him with fire from the sky, and the titan’s greatclub slipped from his grasp. It fell like a mountain breaking loose, biting deep into the plain and drinking the world’s marrow. Odrun vanished into the smoke, never to be seen again. His death ended the Age of Titans, and the place where his weapon lay became a wound that never healed.

Centuries rolled on, and the land around the greatclub warped beneath the slow bleed of titan-magic. Forests grew wild and strange, roots the size of towers clawing the earth. Insects swelled to monstrous size, their shells glimmering with unnatural sheen. To the north rose the @The Shroud, a haunted green where the @Hollowmask prowl wearing the stolen faces of the lost. To the south, safer woods and old roads gave way to the city that would one day bear the titan’s name.

@Odrun Fell was not born in peace. It began as a clutch of shelters built into the weapon’s petrified shaft, carved by hunters and miners bold enough to brave its depths. From those rough halls rose guilds—@The Barleys, @The Ashcoats, @The Promissory, and @The Cudgel—each taking a share of the city’s lifeblood. @Odrun's Handle became the beating heart of trade and delving, its tunnels echoing with the clang of picks and the hum of wings. Beneath it sprawled the @Greatclub Tunnels , where riches and ruin lie side by side. Far to the southeast looms @Odrun's Head, sealed under watch and ward, its crown crawling with life too strange to name.

Today, @Odrun Fell stands as a city balanced on the edge of a blade—its wealth pulled from the same darkness that threatens to consume it. The Regent’s Seat keeps a fragile peace between the guilds, @The Cudgel holds the gates against what stirs below, and beyond the walls, @The Shroud waits, whispering through the leaves. Here, in the shadow of a dead titan’s weapon, every stone, root, and rivet bears the weight of history—and every step forward is a step closer to the unknown.

The Last Titan: Odrun’s Fall

In the elder days, when gods and titans vied for dominion, Odrun strode the land as the last and mightiest of his kind. His greatclub was a mountain’s spine bound in iron, its head bristling with spikes carved from star-metal. Odrun fought not for conquest but for the balance of the world, standing against the divine hosts who sought to chain creation to their will. In the final battle, upon a plain now swallowed by The Shroud, the gods struck him with fire from the heavens. Scorched and bleeding, Odrun swung his club with such force that the earth split—yet his wounds overcame him. The weapon slipped from his grasp and fell, carving a wound into the land so deep it drank the roots of the world.

Odrun vanished into legend, presumed slain by the gods. His death ended the Age of Titans, leaving only scattered bones in forgotten valleys and ruins eroded by centuries. The world that once shook under their tread grew still, and the memory of their influence faded into dust and myth.