"This is the home of your gods?"
"No, just two. They were worshipped before modern foundries were invented, so it was easier for them to build their main workshop in a volcano so that they'd have a source of heat."
Ha! Divine Hipsters. Using Geo-thermal energy before it was cool.
She frowns as she lands on the ground next to me.
"If they are gods, could they not create fire for themselves?"
While they may have Fire as part of their divine portfolio (as Vaermina pointed out,) any fire they create might not be suitable for their needs. Too inconsistent in temperature, perhaps, or prone to dissipating when they lose focus on it.
"Not ex nihilo. Conceptually, they design and build. Fire is something they use and manipulate, not something they conjure into being. And Hellenism doesn't really have a fire god, so if they'd wanted to negotiate for some sort of divine fire they'd have had to trade with someone outside of the pantheon."
Koriand'r doesn't seem to have as much trouble with the idea as Lantern Dul did. Which is not entirely surprising; while Thanagar and Tamaran were both shaped by active gods, X'Hal is still widely worshipped while the Seven Devils very definitely aren't. Actually…
I mean, when your goddess actually walked amongst her people, it's a strong reminder of her existence.
"How much contact do X'Hal and Auron have with Tamaran?"
"We have not had contact with either of them for longer than we have lived on Tamaran. When X'Hal's rages grew too great and too frequent for any mortal to survive, it was Auron who persuaded her to leave Vega. I do not know where either of them are now."
So she might be out there, rampaging through some remote part of the galaxy... Scary thought.
I suppose I can put a pin in the idea of bringing them back to Vega, then. At least until we get some idea of exactly what the psions did to her.
"I suppose that it's not exactly the same thing. X'Hal underwent apotheosis. Hephaestus and Vulcan were born as gods."
And not a pleasant apotheosis, either. If it was anythign liek the experiments from the Titans comics, it would have been flat-out torture.
And unlike when I first came here, it's no longer necessary to use their original stairwell. Because disguised as a blank rock face…
I walk into the wall, and the dolmen gate built into it takes me into… An antechamber which they built because they kept getting birds trying to nest on the rock and flying through. The guardian mechanoid on guard duty inside switches to 'active' mode, standing more upright as it fixes its eyes on me.
Heh. their own automaton doorman. Helps with unauthorised visitors.
"Orange Lantern Illustres and guest to see the forge-gods."
The guardian mechanoid is a dramatic improvement on the tripods they used to use. Rather than have a single animating spirit they have hundreds bound to the microscopic mechanisms of a mechanical Babbage engine. The process makes it capable of far more complex decisions as well as substantially increasing its agility and dexterity. It isn't a person and it isn't much of a conversationalist, but it's remarkable how they've taken the whole arcane technology thing in such a different direction to the Atlanteans.
So, a sort of virtual intelligence. On running purely on a mechanical computer. How old-fashioned.
"Communing."
Koriand'r comes through the ring behind me and takes a look around.
"We are inside the volcano?"
Well, that depends on your definition. Etna's taking a nap right now.
"It's really more of a mountain these days. She's-" I point to Koriand'r with my right hand. "-the guest."
"Communing. Lord Vulcan responds."
Hephaestus must be busy. Probably forging something complicated.
"Thank you."
"Follow."
Its upper torso rotates, legs already in motion as it leads the way into the Mount Etna facility. Runic panels built into the walls are their power cables and fibre optic lines, magitech crystal chandeliers their light sources and-
I see the boys have been upgrading. No messy braziers.
We walk past a specialised cleaning mechanoid as its partially aqueous body removes whatever dust build up inside a mountain from the floor and walls.
-bound spirits their servants. Their actual helpers are human, and last time I visited they were inducting a few that Lord Vulcan had picked up. I'm not entirely sure how no one has twigged about-
Oh, gods. Don't tell me they've got a gelatinous cube shlorping its way around. If not, don't let them see a D&D Monster Manual.
"Paul!"
-Etna being reactivated.
They're probably being discreet. Why set the mountain to spitting out fireballs when you could use that heat in the forges?
"My Lord.
"
Vulcan's wearing a full face mask which puts me in mind of
the masks Roman standard bearers used to wear. And… Hang on. How is his nose fitting under there?
I'm guessing he's trying something new.
"What are you working on?"
"Ah." He holds up his right arm, which has various runic bands strapped to it. "Watch."
An Omnitool? That would be in character.
He clenches and unclenches his fist, then swings his-.
A giant mechanical arm swings across the workshop, the open palm stopping next to us.
Oh,
clever.
"I read an article on telepresence." He clenches his fist again and pulls his arm towards his chest, which causes the mechanical arm to fold back up. "And I realised that it was far easier to get around signal speed limits with magic than with radio waves. Well, until you leave the planet, anyway."
Very clever. Hope it has full force feedback, though. Don't want to accidentally crush something valuable.
"Did you give up on the mechanical prosthetics?"
"No, those are ready." He shrugs, his mask still in place. "But if the Atlanteans are opening up, no one is going to want a mechanical limb when they can get their original limb grown back at a fraction of the cost."
Dude, you underestimate the cool factor of metal. Cyberpunk fans alone would cut off their own arm to have a silver-plated limb...
I nod. "Probably not. This is-" I gesture to Koriand'r. "-Lantern Koriand'r. I wanted to introduce her to one of my gods while she was on Earth."
Koriand'r comes to attention and does a Roman salute. "Hail Vulcan!"
She's been studying. Just don't go doing that outside. Very easy to confuse it for a Nazi salute (the two are
really similar.)
"Hail Koriand'r."
"Did you make a new face for yourself?"
Ah, Kori, direct as ever. Then again, they might well find that refreshing.
"No. I'm-. My face is part of my concept, but I don't like it all that much." He unstraps the giant arm's control mechanism and uses his now freed hand to tap his mask. "I'm trying to find out if I can change it. I've managed to make to face conform to the interior surface of the mask, but only so long as I'm wearing it."
"That's still a significant achievement."
Now, if he can get it to stick when he's not wearing it...
"I suppose. Though speaking of achieving things; did the Hawks from the Justice League tell you that they've been visiting me?"
"No. We're not on.. particularly good terms. Did they want anything in particular?"
"Nth metal." He picks up a small ingot from his work bench. "Interesting stuff. Transmuted lead, with a variety of fascinating properties. They made me an offer."
Probably a lot easier to make with magic than physics. I remember OL-phidian nearly collapsing the Mountain with a gravity well trying to make some for Kon's flying armour.
"They want to buy as much as you can produce?"
"And in return, I get my choice of unlimited resources, or unlimited resources and to be their new chief god. Do you think it's an honest offer?"
Given Thanagarian Materialistic beliefs, it's probably not a big deal to genuflect his way occasionally.
"They really need the Nth metal. But… They're materialists. They aren't used to worship, and they're generally treat other species as inferior."
"Does that extend to gods?"
"I don't know. I doubt that they've been in this position before." I shrug. "I'll miss you if you go, but this is a good opportunity for you."
Heh, imagine what scholars of mythology would make of that.
He nods, then makes a beckoning motion with his right hand.
"Come, Lantern Koriand'r. I'll show you around."
Keep it in your pants, old man. Remember the rules of hospitality.