The guardian bulls are not impressed by Jing Kwan's attempt to praise Yamatsumi or his entreaty. Not able to think of anything else, Rhuul begins miming a lava flow and the danger it will pose. Whether because of the act, the strange and loud noises he makes, or just to get away from the crazy dwarf, the bulls finally move off, heading down into the valley.
You are now faced with a large and somewhat delicate altar that needs to be moved. Sihir and Rhuul consider the layout of the mountain and determine a suitable location; Narayan and Tiny then lift the altar and carefully move it to where the lava will pass it by.
You then make your way back to Old Man Mountain. "I observed your interaction with the Bulls of Heaven. While your means of moving them from the slope was unorthodox and perhaps somewhat disrespectful, you succeeded at the task I gave you. I will uphold my end of the bargain, and when the mountain erupts, I will direct the flow to the east, preserving the villagers and the ruins."
He leads the way further up the mountain, and points to a secluded vent. "That is your way in. Follow the path inside, and you will find what you seek."
He gives Sihir a pointed look. "Before you go, you must know that you have found the reason for Ankilhi’s failure. I turned her away fearing that with the graveknight’s remains incomplete, Pnao’s consciousness might learn of the sleeping beast within Old Volcano’s core. I could not risk his learning of such a powerful creature that he could liberate and bend to his will. Therefore, I sent Ankilhi to another volcano and kept Grimgrin secured within my ward."
Sighing heavily, he continues, "Pnao’s spirit is strong, and I fear the only way to destroy it forever is to crush his helmet under the bulk of the rampaging juggernaut and then cast the broken shards into burning lava. What you do with Grimgrin is your choice to make, but I implore you to rid the world of the last piece of Pnao’s filth that you wear now on your head."
With that, Old Man Mountain disappears into the hillside, giving you no time to speak to him further.
|
Sihir gently touches his new menpo.
"What? I...NO! There must be some mistake...something is wrong. Surely we did not come here just to forever destroy an innocent work of art...! We don't really know what it is, save that it is a work of abjuration...we cannot be certain...it doesn't...all we have is a volcano spirit's word to go on, and anyone who's ever read Pathfinder Society Chronicles knows damned well the reputation of volcano gods, why didn't HE destroy it...?"
|
|
Narayan is somewhat perplexed by Sihir's response, Ssihir, why do you think thiss helmet is sso innoccent. I am ccertain we have all sseen what can come of curssed items.
"Whoever said it was cursed? Not even Old Man Mountain said that. Do you not think He ought to have told us if it was? Why do you trust Him so unconditionally, hmm? My menpo has asked nothing of us. I think it is innocent because one must always consider the unfamiliar to be innocent until proven guilty. So prove it is cursed, I say!"
Entering the fumarole, your first impression is from the heat. The chamber you enter is very dark, the only light being what you bring with you.
Slowly making your way into the heart of the mountain, after about a half hour of walking you see a dim light ahead. A deep, lava-filled fissure bisects a large chamber, spewing steam and other gases upward to the vault’s ceiling. The gases coalesce about ten feet up into a series of jaundiced clouds that obscure the actual height of the chamber.
To the south rests an exquisitely carved fresco depicting a titanic struggle between chiseled, angular-faced warriors and molten humanoids with fiery hair. Within this fresco, the head of the shaitan army wields an impressive heavy pick set with several diamonds. This figure, despite its impressive weapon, is wrestled to the ground by a trio of efreet with ruby-embedded crowns.
The chamber continues further, following the river of lava.
|
|
"Ah, one of the great wars between Earth and Fire. This would be the famous defeat of a premiere general of the Shaitan by the conglomerate forces of Grand Sultan Hakim Khalid Suleiman XXIII of the Efreeti. Somebody worked very hard on this. See? Even when crafted in the image of wickedness, works of beauty have a value all their own...."
Though he readily recognizes the monetary value of the gems, he remains silent about it.
Is anyone doing anything else here at the fresco?
Working reverently but quickly, Narayan removes some of the larger gems from the wall.
While he is doing this, Fek quietly scouts ahead a bit. He returns to report that around a bend there is an obsidian bridge crossing the lava. Spaced along each side of the bridge are four ten-foot-tall towers with braziers mounted on the tops, and three dwarf-sized humanoids with brassy skin and flames for hair stand guard. They are wearing breastplates and carrying heavy shields; one carries a shortspear, while the other two are armed with javelins and a bill.
Fek is certain he was unobserved, and the ambient hiss of the lava is enough that you can converse here to plan without being overheard.
Sihir, having spent some time studying the races of the plane of fire, is able to tell you that Azers are a proud and hardworking race. Azers toil in their bronze and brass fortresses, always ready for their long, simmering war against the efreet. Azers live in a society where every member knows his place. Born into a particular duty, usually the trade of his father or mother, an azer continues this task his entire life. A caste system further keeps azer society in line. Nobles, ruling without question, wear decorated brass kilts as their symbol of caste, while merchants and business proprietors wear stout bronze. Copper kilts designate the working class, made up of servants, artisans, and laborers.
Azers are a typically lawful race; however, much like their material-plane counterparts, some individuals are known look to the letter of their contracts as much as the spirit.
Able to channel heat through metal weapons and tools, azers almost never use nonmetallic weapons, and usually engage in close melee rather than using ranged attacks. Azers frequently take prisoners, bringing them back to their fortresses and forcing them to labor for a year and a day.
The legendary City of Brass boasts an azer population over half a million strong. Most of these unfortunate azers live a life of servitude to their efreet masters. Azers subjected to this slavery still perform their duties without question, preferring to wait out their contracts or hoping their masters die or get overthrown. A dedication to order burns strong in this race, to the extent that some enslaved azers act as taskmasters over their own kin. Beyond the City of Brass, azers are free to live their own lives, often in other planar metropolises crafting goods, selling wares, and running taverns.
Azers look strikingly similar to one another to the unfamiliar eye. They are 4 feet tall, but weigh 200 pounds.
|
The tales they tell with their walls sspeak either to a war againsst their oppresssors, or to their sstruggles againsst the shaitan.
I fear that if they sstill sstand guard over the shaitan's sspoils, they are more likely sstill in sservitude.
Do they sspeak Taldane or Tien? I would be willing to make mysself known to disscover their intentions while you waited in ssafety as reinforccementss.
Sihir knows that many Azers (particularly those from the City of Brass) speak Taldane due to trade with the Inner Sea region on Golarion.
|
Why is she asking that? Is she saying I'm no good without magic to help me?
Fek shrinks back a couple of feet from Narika before answering her, "No. Yes? N-no thank you."
Fek reports that the bridge is roughly 20 feet wide, with the three azers on the near side, fairly close together.
|
|
"Well, we can prepare for the worst, but approaching with open hands and honest faces may win us the day here. " notes Rhuul.
"At least in a volcano we are unlikely to be asked to approach with open pockets, unlike the gate guards of many a city I've had the misfortune to work in."
He looks around the team. "Would you have me go and try to talk our way past them first?"
|
|
Rhuul takes the lead, his flag unfurled.
"They may well know of the Society and many of the noble deeds we have done. Let us hope they are not one of our many would-be nemisises. Or should that be nemisi? Ahh, Taldane, who but a natural born could truly understand it?"
He cautiously approaches the Azer.
"Greetings noble cousins!" he says with a smile on his face.
"I am my fellows would cross your bridge. Can you tell us what is on the far side?"
Rhuul steps up with the delegation to speak with the azers. As they come into view, the fiery dwarves stand up straight and ready their weapons. The one in the center calls out, "Turn back. This place is under the jurisdiction of the City of Brass. You are not welcome here."
"Hah! Then you clearly don't understand how these things work. This volcano is a borderland between your plane and ours. As a piece of the plane of fire, it belongs to the City of Brass. Besides, what business would your sort have here, anyway? Go home and save your whiskers from the singeing this place will give them."
If we convince you we have a good reason, will you let us past?
"It would have to be a very good reason, to get us to violate our contract to guard the bridge."