While Dasur is studying, Snorri starts working on the spare chain shirt, trying to adapt it to Iverna's size. The challenge is to figure out how to cut the links without untangling the protective enchantment.
"Keeping to the wall sounds like a good strategy. We avoid getting lost in the forest and reduce the chance of contact with those forsaken elves you were talking about."
Torvi, quite glad to be beyond the threat of the geysers, looks at the path ahead. ”No more forced marching right? I can still speed us up, with no ill affects, if desired.”
Rubbing her side when Regnir had kicked her awake, "On a scale of one to ten. One being no threats and ten being certain death how dangerous is this route? Would rushing though there be better or is slower with caution a safer option?"
Erebos ponders Nalnera's question, long delicate fingers rubbing his beardless chin. "Well, I have done it before with a squad of raiders, so I suppose certain death is not guaranteed. That was long ago, so who knows what has shifted or what strange beasts lie in our path. the Mithvarim will most likely find us. Drow raiders use magic to cloak their movements, and are well trained in stealth. This band might as well be travelling with bugle, drum, and fife as stealthy as we are. When they find us, we will most likely have to kill them. Or you might trade me to them for safe passage.
"As for our travel: No, there will be no more requirement to march without ceasing. There are safe places to shelter from the elements. The geyser fields stretch for about two more days before us, but not so concentrated as what we have just passed. If we cannot move in stealth, then moving quickly is likely a good idea."
"Nonsense! Who would trade a companion for safe passage?" erupts Snorri, incensed that the possibility has even been considered. "Rhetorical question, I know the drow would. But I'm confident that we won't."
”Some of us would,” mused Torvi to herself.
"I have been designing a spell to ease our concerns about being discovered while camping. I except to lock in several of the variables and permanently scribe it into my spellbook tonight." The wizard says while still looking out across the great expanse of green before them.
He turns slightly to regard Erebos. "What is known of the vulnerabilities of these Mithvarium? If we are expected to clash to the death, we can at least be prepared to put them down quickly."
Torvi nods knowingly as she taps her dorn-dergar, ”likely they are vulnerable to the strength of steel wielded by dwarven muscle.”
After the trip across the dense geyser fields, the next day's walk is quite peaceful. A few months ago, you would never have had that thought, but your journey toward Dammerhall has changed you. What will you be when you arrive?
As you walk, Erebos attempts to fill you in on his understanding of the strange elves that live here, "Forgive me if I do not know what you understand about what I am about to say. Long ago, there was a great catastrophe. In the wake of massive destruction, most elves departed the world for other...places. My people retreated from the surface, but not from this world. We survived by making complex agreements with various Powers. These powers granted us the strength to survive in the new world. But the Mithvarim chose a third way. They sought allies within the First World. They returned to what some say are our origins, but my people say is an abomination. In any case, they have taken on a form that is more fey that most elves. Like most fey, they abhor cold iron. Their greatest weakness may be that they cannot see in darkness as we can. But their magic is strong...Very strong."
After another day of walking, you come to the wall of what Erebos calls the Wound.
The wall soars 100 feet upward to a stone ceiling. Bubbling mud surrounds you at a distance. After a brief push, the wall to your right opens
The entrance to this chamber is blocked by a large pool of intensely hot mud. The mud boils and fumes and is hot enough to cook flesh from bone. But there is a way to cross. Seven stones, each about five feet apart, form a natural series of “steps” through the hot mud.
Erebos seems confused, "This place I do not remember. It must be newly created. We should be cautious."
"Worry not Erebos, for it is well known the elves retreated from Golarion shortly after Starfall. Ironically, as your ancestors were fleeing underground to avoid the certain death promised by that terrible event, ours saw it as a sign from Torag to begin The Quest for Sky and started our way up to the surface. Yet here we are once more, delving into the deeper parts of the world to reclaim the ultimate culmination of that quest. Perhaps this is cycle we are all meant to repeat, and one day the drow will find themselves on the surface once more as we spend centuries in Dammerhall." The wizard rambles, though he was getting around to the Mithvarium.
"I had not heard of these cousins to the Drow, though they seem quite fascinating. The surface elves and the fey have always had warmer relationships than most creatures, but if this unity resulted in unexpectedly powerful magics I would relish the chance to see it." Erebos seemed to suggest that seeing said magic would probably result in a quick death, but Dasur did not seem fazed by the prospect.
They all stop in front of the bubbling pool of Earth, Fire, and Water, with Dasur getting dangerously close to the edge. Beads of sweat appear on his forehead as he sticks his ashen staff into the mud, pulling out a sample and walking back to the group. "If this was not here before, do you believe it was created by the Mithvarium? Have they managed to tame the elemental chaos surrounding this area and bent it to their use as a trap?" The rapidly cooling mud strams upon Dasur's staff, which he watches with great interest.
Suddenly turning, the wizard flicks his wrist and casts a spell, followed by another. He walks along the bank ofthe bubbling mud pit, searching for any signs of magical manipulation.
"Scorching melma on the borders of a forest inhabited by murderous fey elves. The Lower Azathyr might be deadly, but it's never boring."
Snorri looks at the rocks with some reservation. The stones are definitely arranged in a path for a reason, and that reason is likely to be a trap.
"Even if it was not created to be a trap, it's a perfect spot for one. Perhaps we should keep ropes to pull out anyone who may fall."
The area is infused with a minor aura of elemental magics. You would guess that there might be multiple portals to elemental planes leaking energy into the area. But there are no specific magical auras within range of Dasur's perceptions.
There doesn't seem to be anything evil in the area, other than Erebos, of course.
"This energy... astounding..." The wizard mutters with rare excitement. "If only we had time to study this, we could learn so much about how these portals spontaneously generated, allowing a caster to do the same with minimal effort! Perhaps the Mithvarium have already mastered such a technique, and placed these portals themselves to form a highly effective defensive structure!"
It was clear Dasur was reluctant to leave the area, but in the distance Dammerhall called louder than any trumpet. "I see no auras resembling traps. This is merely a physical obstacle we must carefully cross."
He awaits the others to begin making their way across the deadly pit to maintain their formation.
"You can come back and study these things for as long as you like, after Dammerhall has been found and restored, and after the enemies of our race have been purged from the Azathyr," Torvi glances at the drow.
"Torvi is just pawn in game of life."
"Torvi is just pawn in game of life."
"No time like the present."
Snorri moves to the first rock and then further, trying to keep his balance over the treacherous pool.
Dasur is busy thinking of how to cross the pit using his assortment of spells, unaware Snorri is already taking the first leap. "If we make Iverna invisible she could easily cross these stones and scout out the area beyond. If this is a way around the Mithvarium's defenses, it would allow her, Erebos, and Torvi to slip in from behind while we assault the front." The wizard drones, his strategizing already completely irrelevent.
Finally looking up from his deep thoughts, he sees a figure in mithral full plate bravely hopping across the stones, knowing it could be none other than their scion. "Ah! This also works." Dasur mutters before flicking his wrist and casting a simple spell to communicate with Snorri and the others.
The wizard's voice reaches Snorri's ears like a whisper on the wind. "Please tell me what you see and I will relay it to the others."
Snorri makes the first few jumps without difficulty, but hits a rock near the far shore and his boots fail to grip the slick muddy stone. He slides off straight into the bubbling mud.
The mud is thick and viscous. Snorri does not sink out of sight, but he is quite stuck. He pulls himself up onto the next stone step and then hops from there to the far edge.
On the far side of the boiling mud, Snorri sees a series of pools. These seething pools of steaming water have been boiled clean of any sort of life. They are sterile, bright blue at their deep centers and because of the various minerals they have boiled out of the rock, their edges are rainbows of brilliantly colored salts and crystals.
Snorri hisses as the mud blisters him and looks around at the pools.
"You'd love this, Dasur. Plenty of crystals at the edge of these pools."
He circles the pools towards the northern side, moving cautiously in case of ambush.
To the north, the stone rises to form a sort of pedestal with what might be a roughly formed stone seat facing a pool of boiling mud.
To the east, a structure stands out and seems not to belong here in this primal place of natural power and beauty. This is a small stone hut, buttressed and reinforced to withstand the stresses of this place. There is single entirely metal door that leads into the hut.
"There is a small house here, like a hermit's refuge. Perhaps someone inside might have some precious knowledge."
Snorri goes to knock at the metal door, feeling on edge at being separated by his folks.
"Ah!" The wizard exclaims when he recieves Snorri's message, becoming visbly excited. "That is wonderful! THough they will not be as stable as gemstones, salts also form crystalline structures and will have absorbed the planar energies of the surroundings and incorporated them into their lattice structures! Better yet, and this is only a theory I have been working on, by dissovling such salts into water it may be possible to extract the energies and imbue the drinker with such energies! I am more interested in studying the capabilties for short-term memory, say over the span of ten years, and comparing their ability to observe and diilitate time compared to more rugged gemstones, which I believe have the capacity to recall centuries of history. In fact,"
Considering how he had forgotten to whisper, none of this reaches Snorri's ears, and the rest of hte group is forced to listen to Dasur's rambling about space time and how to relates to crystalline structures until Dammerhall's scion sends his next message.
"Oh." He suddenly interrupts himself. "Snorri has found a small house. He is investigating."
”What the snarg are you on about?”
Snorri raps on the steel door, his raps ringing through the hut. The force of his blows causes the door to swing inward. Apparently it is neither locked nor trapped.
Inside, his darkvision reveals several pieces of stone furniture (several tables, a shelf, a desk and even a chair).
The one piece of furniture that was not made of stone was the bed, which was an old cot that has collapsed and rotted away to worthless junk. Amongst that litter there is a human skeleton, with a severe blow to his head.
From here you can see that he wears tattered silk robes and his skeletal hand clutches a wooden staff.
There are tattered pages scattered around the room.
Iverna grows increasingly agitated at her separation from Snorri. Finally, she moves to do something about it.
"Why are we leaving your sovereign along in exploring this treacherous place. He needs someone to back him up."
The dark gnome moves deftly across the slick stones, her hops keeping her firmly in control. Once across, she observes,
"Look there, along the southwest wall. There appear to be handholds that would allow you to cross in relative safety."
"A human lived here. A wizard like you, from the looks of his gear. Died a violent death."
Without turning his back to the door, Snorri collects the pages, skimming over them.
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"I believe if you asked Snorri that question he would quote Hammer and Tongs: The Forging of Metal and Other Good works, Torag's holy book." Dasur begins to respond to their deep gnome companaion on why they are letting their lord run off on a dangerous solo scouting mission. "In his absence I will furnish the quote in mind. "A wise Sovereign is the first to listen and last to speak. An industrious Sovereign swings their pick first to set the tempo. A brave Sovereign walks first among their warriors so they may follow in the Soverign's footsteps, and when danger is sighted the stalwart Soverign stands first among the defensive line, only retreating if their subjects pull them back.""
"The third line is most appliciable to this situation." The long-winded dwarf ascertains before tilting his head and listening to a message on the wind. "Ah! The house is a wizard's study. Perhaps they have already uncovered the secrets of this elemental conglomerate."
He straps his staff to his backpack and hops on to the wall Iverna mentioned, laboring along. About halfway across he realizes the rocks are imbued with far too much Fire, and the wizard nearly falls into the mud below as his hands, which are not as thick skinned as his brethren, begin to sorch.
Overcoming the pain, he manages to climb the rest of the distance and jump, waving his hands about in a desperate attempt to cool them off.
Despite his palms looking ike a slab of meat thrown onto a metal grill, Dasur sets off towards the house to join Snorri- the secrets of the infintely unknowable arcane won't be revealed by standing around nursing wounds after all.
However, there WAS time to collect some samples. On the way to the hut he uses his staff to scrape off some of the salts surrounding the multi-colored pools and then scoop them into his belt pouch.
Eventually he appears in the doorway to the hut and glances around, taking in all of the sights quickly.
A strange look passes over the wizard's face, and he crosses the hut to touch one of the chairs. The perfectly smooth surface still hurts his tender fingers, but it gives the wizard all the information he needs. "All of this furniture was created using a Stone Shape spell." He announces to Snorri, glancing at the paladin.
"This human was either a priest or a wizard of some power. Indeed, I have not yet mastered the arcane langauge of the Stone to ask it to take the shapes I desire." He says before noticing Snorri had a stack of papers in his hand.
"Where did those pages comes from? What do they say? If it is from this human's spellbook, it will be invaluable to both myself and Erebos." Dasur intones before flicking his fingers and casting Detect Magic to slowly look over the objects in the house.
All of the magical auras in the room are near the magician's corpse. There is the stafff, which on closer inspection is not composed of a dark colored wood but it actually magically enhanced obsidian. There is a ring that appears to be mithril, and a necklace with a thumb sized dragon scale suspended on it.
The pages are indeed sheets from a spellbook that must have been destroyed. They detail a few spells and also a series of rituals related to a rift that reaches into all four elemental planes. Deciphering these pages will take some time, at least a day. But a brief review reveals that the staff is an incomplete work that has the potential to be nearly as powerful as an artifact.
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As the magical auras come into focus, Dasur begins explaining what he sees to Snorri. "Three points of magic are around the remains of this human..." He looks at each in turn, nodding. "The staff... a ring on his finger.. and a necklace."
Not seeing any immediate danger, the wizard squats in front of the skeleton, teasing apart the magical auras one by one. "Interesting... a necklace made of a single dragon scale, though I am not sure what type, that toughens the wearer's skin."
He then gently taps the ring on the dead mage's hand with one of his dirty fingernails, hearing the tell-tale ring of Torag's holy metal. "Mithral, I'm sure of it, and imbued with potent protective magics."
The staff is particularly interesting, and he runs a finger over its surface. "So smooth... magically strengthened obsidian, I believe, though that is the only enhancement I can detect. A very odd choice, considering most magically enhanced obsidian is used to make edged weapons by magically suturing together the crystal structure, removing its innate brittleness and then taking advantage of the stones incredibly sharp edge. What purpose would a staff of obsidian serve?"
Standing back up, Dasur strokes his greasy beard. "This human possessed great items of protection, but it did them little good. What is even more mysterious is why did their assailants not take these valuables?" He walks over to the papers Snorri holds in his hand, taking them gently. "Draconic script... this was a spell book...yes.... " Is all he mumbles for a while before a strange look passes over his face.
"ປະສົມປະສານສີ່ອົງປະກອບ...?" Suddenly, he flips back and forth between several pages rapidly, arranging them in a certain order and growing more frantic as he does so. "ປະສົມປະສານສີ່ອົງປະກອບ...ປະສົມປະສານສີ່ອົງປະກອບ...ປະສົມປະສານສີ່ອົງປະກອບ...ປະ ສົມປະສານສີ່ອົງປະກອບ..." Is repeated over and over again before he looks up at Snorri with wide eyes and nearly shouts in his lord's face: "ປະສົມປະສານສີ່ອົງປະກອບ!!!"
His face falls when the scion looks at him blankly, and it looks like he is about to grab the paladin by the pauldrons and shake him. "Don't you see?!" The now maniacal wizard says, placing the papers on the nearby table and spinning to the corpse in the corner.
His voice is full of rare emotion, dipping with remorse as he approaches the long-dead person. "We were like minds... Another that recognized the power of the elements and sought mastery over the edges of the outer planes that leak into our own." He reaches out to take the obsidian staff, its strangely warm surface causing his burnt fingers to throb. "But he was so far ahead... this staff was to be a magum opus, capable of connecting to all four elemental planes. I have seen the theories, the equations, the rituals... it's all brilliant! Brilliant!!!"
Dasur suddenly cackles, a sound none of his companions have ever heard. It is a low and disturbing noise that echoes off the stone walls of the hut. "What madness! All four at once? I know what your peers said! They guffawed and said "Impossible! A waste of time! You have gone insane!" I know all the words they must have used against you! Oh, my lost human brethren, what ridicule you must have suffered... I know.. I know... That is why you were here alone, away from those without vision, a place of power where you could work in peace. How I would have loved to join you, to know what you knew, to deflect whatever catastrophe befell you."
With a sigh, the animated dwarf looks between the two staves he holds, one in each hand. The ashen dowel that had served as his walking stick was battered and stained from the journey, having absorbed much sweat and blood. Carefully he places it in the corner next to the human body, taking the obsidian staff and holding it close to his chest. "I will finish your work. I swear it. Together, we will succeed."
Turning back to Snorri, Dasur glances between him and the papers on the table, swallowing. Stepping forward, he greedily scoops up the papers and starts to leaf through them again. "It will take me hours to fully decipher this... we must get through here as quickly as possible and make camp. This staff... it... if I am successful in following these instructions, it will rival the legendary Staff of the Magi in terms of potency."
Quietly standing and half listening to the group. Why are you staying here. Because this is for Snorri. Are you waiting for him to die. That is the cowards way. I do not want the throne. You know that. Of all the drifting Tharnhammer's for my soul to have been bound to it had to be you. I would have rather faced Judgment than live out your day.. See the mad mage gets it! He does and Snorri is the Sovereign not me.
Shaking her head and trying to ignore the lecture that ensues and mving to follow the others. But keeping to the end as the rear should still be watched. Flinching and groaning when her foot slides into the mud. Biting the inside of her cheek when she slips again and her hand slides into the hot mud.
Catching up in time for Dasur's newest rant. Ah, yes. See how he spouts more wisdom. Do not bait me mortal. He was quoting something older and wiser than you can comprehend.
As Dasur continues his increasingly noisy ruminations, Glenda checks around the body to see how he died. Natural causes? Death in his sleep? Some kind of magic gone awry?
Regardless of the cause, the pauses over the body and brings forth the holy symbol of Magrim. She touches it briefly to the corpse's forehead.
"Though your gods were likely not our own," she says, "I ask that you have a safe and welcome transition to your final place of rest. May the mind that was filled with such transcendent thoughts be recognized for its genius in its time, now able at last to seek repose in flights of fancy."
"Wh-"
Snorri watches over Dasur's excited outburst with a mix of amusement and concern, wondering whether some fey presence has taken over the wizard's mind. When it becomes apparent that he's simply excited at the notes and artifacts, he helps him collect and bind together the sparse pages.
"We could lay the body to rest in one of the pools outside." he says once Glenda makes her way to the body. "They look like they are deep enough to let them rest undisturbed, and Dasur has already delivered an elegy as passionate as one could be."
Leaning against the doorway and nodding, "That sounds like a good option." I hate you.
Erebos sees no reason to endanger himself crossing the boiling mud. For the moment, he will remain on the other side of the other side. Apparently with Torvi, which leaves the two of them staring distrustfully at each other.
Iverna, on the other hand, stands outside of the hut and stares to the south."Lord Snorri, or perhaps Dasur would be more interested? There is something strange to the south, it must be beyond the reach of your vision. It is some sort of vortex of energy."
Dasur thanks Snorri for his help carefully binding the pages of the former elementalist's spellbook, which he deftly places into his waterproof bag beside his own spellbook. "A burial within the pools would be fitting. It would also be interesting to see if any of the molten salts prepicipate out onto this human's bones over time. It could form unique crystal structures by adding a organic component..."
Obsidian staff in hand, the dwarven wizard squeezes past Nalnera and out of hte hut to look south. "I see nothing, Iverna, but it would behoov us to investigate. This vortex you speak of could be a planar rift and thus be the source of the abnoral conditions this valley experiences."
He tightly grips the warm obsidain between his fingers, ignoring the throbbing of his burnt palms. "To study the conflux of multiple elementt planes... No I am getting ahead of myself, first I must see it."
Dasur sets off in a trot, only stopping when the energy vortex Iverna mentioned comes into view.
As the wizard scampers off to the south, Snorri sighs and follows.
Torvi looks at the hated elf creature. She casts expeditious retreat on herself, and starts jumping through the cavern...
Glenda stuggles for a moment with the wall, but eventually manages to move across it.
The stone is hot, but Magrim guides Glenda's hands, bringing her safely across the wall to the other side.
As Dasur leaves the small hut and heads south, his darkvision reveals a fascinating view.
He sees a pulsating combination of the four elements in balance. Occasionally, a jet of flame or water shoots from the undulating mass of elements, but for the most part it remains coherent. The staff in Dasur's hand trembles with power, visibly glowing as it approaches the complex rift.