The Lakes of Molten Iron
Gather ’round the fire and let me spin you a yarn about the infernal cauldrons known as the Lakes of Molten Iron, in the blistering heart of Pazunia. If ever there was a place that could give the fiery pits of the Nine Hells a run for their jink, it’d be this, a vision of hellish industry and brutal efficiency that’d send even the stoutest of primes running for the hills.
Imagine a series of lakes, not of water, oh no, but a roiling sea of molten iron, born from the very blood of an unspeakable entity as it breathed its last. It’s a place where the ground itself bleeds pain and anger, with lakes that range from blinding white hot to a smouldering crimson. The Lakes of Iron belch forth waves of heat so intense, it’s enough to singe your whiskers off.
Now, see, these ain’t just any lakes, no, these are the very lifeblood of the Pazunian war machine, the source of iron for weapons and fortresses alike, a place where the ambitions of fiends take physical form, forged in fire and blood. Pazunia is a land so contested that the high quality Lake Iron can be worth weight in gold. And better believe this place has been the subject of more attempts to capture than I’ve had heated arguments. The current invaders seem to be yugoloth mercenaries, no doubt funded by the baatezu, who are trying to put a dent in the Abyssal war machine.
Now, let’s get to the nitty-gritty, cutter. Approaching too close to these lakes is dicing with death. It’s a place where even standing a hundred yards away will cause you a serious singeing, and gods help ye if you’re fool enough to touch the stuff. A fate worse than a dip in the Styx awaits any poor sod falls (or is pushed) in. [Creatures within 100 yards of the lakes take 1d10 points of fire damage per round of exposure. Characters submerged in a lake take 20d6 points of fire damage per round, and even those who merely touch it take 2d6 points of fire damage per round of exposure.]
At the centre of it all there’s a small iron plaza, hallowed ground where the evil entity met its end — the eye of the storm, so to speak. This is a place of dark pilgrimage where fiends come to pay homage to the spirit of violence and cruelty that gave birth to the Lakes that they rely on so greatly in the Blood War. Amidst the scaldin’ crucibles, the fiends have carved out a kingdom of iron and fire, building fortresses atop the lakes, a testament to their ingenuity and brutality, a place where only the strongest (and most heat-resistant) survive, where berks not immune to the flames risk a quick death if they wanted to lay siege to the iron bastions of power. And does the iron conduct heat? You bet it does, berk. The inside of the citadels is like an oven, so only tanar’ri who are most resistant to heat bear to venture inside.
So there you have them, cutter, the Lakes of Molten Iron, a place of unimaginable heat, a forge of war where the weapons of the Abyss are born, and a place of fiery doom for the rest of us.
Canonical Source: In the Abyss [2e] p18 (encounter by the lakes with worker slaves), expanded by Jon Winter-Holt, mimir.net
