Goofdaln, alone and knee-deep in volcanic dust, executes a swing.  Brandishing his wand, he guides the ball toward the cup -- but just then, a house-size flaming boulder plummets from the sky onto the green and make a larger-than-normal divot.  The ball bounces off the rock into the woods. 

"I'm just going to Mulligan this one," Goofdaln mumbles, scratching on his magical scorecard with a wizard pencil.  He looks up and sees you.  "Hello, I see you got down to the volcano all right." 

"Now we're trying to get away," says the young lady in your company. 

"Needless exposition -- but no problemo," says Goofdaln.  "Let me just make a bridge -- "  He turns to the edge of the plateau and shouts:  "Civilius Engineerius Gallopinggertius!" 

-- And suddenly a bridge appears out of nowhere.  Goofdaln runs on to it and beckons.  "Well, come on -- " 

Just then the bridge vanishes.  Goofdaln hangs in mid-air for a second or two, shaking his wand.  The wand sputters a couple weak sparks, and dies. 

"I always forget to charge this thiiiiiiiiinnnnnnngggggg -- " 

Goofdaln drops from sight. 

"He'll be all right," you say.  "He's very resilient.  It's like he's made of rubber." 

"Even the brain?" 

"You know, that would explain a lot . . . ." 

The village down south is pretty much slathered with lava now, so you turn west and north. 

You head northwest, toward forested hills. 

You head north, toward a realm of mysterious monoliths. 

You head west, toward the lake.