Through the musty foliage, around the ancient oak trees, in and out of the rare instance of dappled sunlight that broke the canopy, he wandered. A young man, who was no man. An amalgam of stone and clay, of arcane mechanism, and of pure magic. An organic automaton.His “skin” was marble-white, with the smooth texture of polished stone. Across the expanse of it, arcane symbols and mystic runes danced. They moved of their own accord, for he had no dominion over them. Each represented a riddle, written in dead tongues and decipherable only to those who were exactly the right type of insane. If one solved a riddle, the glyph would vanish. If one solved all of the riddles, the secrets within him would be revealed. Unknowable knowledge, and unspeakable truths.“Or perhaps a recipe for particularly fluffy scones,” Finner the Pantomath mused aloud.Finner was not sure who exactly he was. He knew that he was a homunculus, a golem built by a sorcerer to house forbidden knowledge. That was what he was… but not who.The homunculus meandered throughout the wood, without direction, without desire. He had exactly one desire, one goal. It may not be in this forest, if anything other than this forest existed. He was not even sure it could ever be attained. He wanted only the answer to a question.“Am I truly alive, or am I merely an artificial contruct built to mimic life? Is sapience symbolic of sentience, or merely symptomatic?” The squirrel he had inquired blinked twice, snatched an acorn from the mossy ground, and skittered up a giant oak. Inconclusive.Finn grinned at the small creature. The white pupils set inside his black eyes constricted as he watched it go. It did not know the answers to his question, or maybe it did not care. Maybe he should be a squirrel. He was human-shaped… but not human. So could he not be a human-shaped squirrel?He adjusted the white toga, hemmed in scarlet, that he wore. It left the left side of his stone chest and ribs bare. He imagined that if he could feel pain or cold, it would have been quite chilly. He tightened his sandals, which extended all the way up to his knees, and set out again. As he walked, he used his whalebone staff as a walking stick. The staff had belonged to his elven warden and rescuer, Adeline. She had used it as a conduit for her spells. Finner had no control over magic, not even the magic that kept him functioning… so the staff served as little more than an accessory for him. It was taller than him, nearly six feet in length. All along its length, it was carved with beautiful scrimshaw, depicting a magically charged sea battle, with magi slinging spells at each other from opposing ships.As midday set upon the dark crimson forest, Finn came upon a stream. He imagined it to be the tears of a god. Unstoppable, yet gentle. Perfectly clear, immaculate. It was liquid diamond, flowing over luminescent pebbles. A faint reflection of filtered sunlight falling in godrays through the scarlet canopy, danced upon its surface. He decided this was a fine place to make camp for a time. He knelt by the bank of the stream, and began to enter his idle state.

"AGH…hnnngh…hunngh…grrrrnnnnnnnnghhh!"

A miserable-looking lizard-man tumbled through the overgrowth overlooking the babbling brook he had been walking towards for what felt like hours.  Upon sight of it just before him, he sighed loudly before falling flat on his face.  Normally he would have fumbled and sputtered the assorted detritus and rich forest soil from his maw, but Ivacus was simply too tired and relieved to care.  He allowed his backpack to slip off of him as he laid there for a moment, stretching his weary limbs.  He'd been trekking through the wilderness for at least a week from his former home in the Umbral Depths, surviving off nothing more than rations and a growing knowledge in spellcraft.  But being as inexperienced as he was, conjuring water was not among his repertoire: and his water canteen had been empty for a long while.

Ivacus crawled forward, almost slipping over his cloak, tattered from days of clambering through thick brush with nothing more than a dagger to cut through them, and simply placed his head right in the flowing stream before him.  It was ice cold of course, but it was a welcome relief as he drank.  Eventually, when he remembered he needed to breathe, he withdrew his muzzle, and sat back on the edge of the creek.  "Finally…" he muttered in his native tongue, as he took his canteen from his backback and began filling it up.  It was so serene; just being able to sit calmly and reflect on how far he'd come.  Without his brothers and sisters…and even without the aid of his Father.  

He wondered if Kreest would be proud of him in some way…possibly.  But that didn't matter to the young Kobold now.  Now was the time to find himself and his desires, rather than working for Father's instead.  This was his time to explore himself…and no memory of Father Kreest's false benevolence was going to urge him back to intellectual safety.

As he filled up the leather gourd that served to hold his rations of water, he surveyed the bank of the stream he had found himself in front of.  Until his eyes caught something on his side of the brook that he, in his desperation to hydrate, hadn't noticed before.

It was a human-esque figure.  It looked like Father, almost.  But from the moderate distance the Kobold was away from it, it seemed incredibly unnatural in comparison.  Its skin was a ghastly, pale white, and upon its face he could make out some sort of moving lettering, as though its skin were a living creature in and of itself.  It was startling to say the least…but it didn't seem to be doing much but kneeling there, in its incredibly odd clothing, staring straight ahead.  It was indeed a curiosity…and Ivacus' interest was piqued.  

Slowly, quietly, he would get up from his sitting position, and creep towards the intriguing homunculus.  He would keep his distance for the moment, waiting to see if this was some kind of a trap like the ones his brethren made to protect Father's dominion.  But he figured that trying to communicate wouldn't do much harm.

"H…hello?" he queried with an odd growl and intonation; Common was still a language he was getting used to speaking from his time working as Father's scribe, but it would be intelligible enough to anyone around to listen.

Vikki was most thrilled to explore the vast forest, with its diverse flora and fauna. To see tall oak trees instead of steel cranes, to hear animals in various shapes and sizes instead of machinery fueled either by coal or magic, to smell the fragrance of a plethora of flowers and certain leaves instead of the fumes of many furnaces… this feeling, although foreign to her, strangely made her feel more at home.

Perhaps not so much as when she first set foot on dry land in the so-called Pirate Haven of Vilpamolan, where she got to see a diverse, colourful architecture and witness some of the usual madness going on here, of which neither was even slightly present in her homeland, and therefore very exciting and worthy of further examination. But the fledgeling artificer could only stick around for so long, knowing that there is so much to explore, especially considering that she had already learned so much from hanging around a place as small as the Pirate Haven.

And so she found herself deep within the Virens Forest - an odd choice for somebody who occupies themselves with the intricacies of engineering and arcana, but no less intriguing for Vikki. She was examining the Forest's underbrush, helping herself to the fruit she recognised from the Haven's markets, when she heard a high-pitched growl, one that was far different from anything she got to hear since she walked into the woods. Without hesitation, the young girl stood up and marched towards the supposed source of the noise.

After what felt to her like half an hour of searching, she sighted an interesting scene. A small lizardman trying to interact with a rather imposing, pale-skinned specimen, bearing some resemblance to a marble sculpture, a glimpse of which she caught back in the Pirate Haven. Having heard the lizardman speak to the pale figure, Vikki decided to join in, seeing no harm in that.

- Hello - she spoke quietly, but not so much to be muffled by the ambient noises. As the young girl, who stood barely five feet tall, made her way towards the two, her lips widened into a slight smile.

- I feared for a second that I'm mad for choosing to explore these wilds. Glad to see that I'm not the only one to do so - she continued to speak, before turning her attention to the pale, kneeled figure. She was quick to take notice in the patterns coursing along its body. And just as quick to deduce that these had resembled letters of sorts, at least at some places. Yet said letters were different from these she saw adorning the crude Gnomish machines. She stopped to wonder whether the difference was merely in font, or are there multiple Eldritch languages, which had developed independently from each other across the world. And what was she looking at, exactly?

As Finner came forth from the depths of his subconscious, the white dots that represented his pupils reappeared. He looked about to see what had disturbed his meditation. A lizard stood before him and let out a guttural growl. It took Finn a moment before he registered that it was not the rasping of an animal, but an accented form of Common, the widespread multiracial language that was so prevalent in these lands.

“Hello, Mister Lizard,” he greeted jovially. He proffered his best estimation of an amicable smile. It was like his normal smile, but more human, he reasoned. He parted his lips, baring his ivory teeth, and stretched the edges of his mouth up and out. Of course, Finner’s mouth did not follow the same rules as a normal human’s, and his smile ended up a rather terrifying mockery of what he had originally intended. “Do lizards normally wear clothing? Or are you a maverick of your kind?” Finner asked. It seemed like a joke, but he asked the question with such clueless innocence, that it was clear that he was serious.Before the lizard man could answer, another appeared. This one was a human woman, smiling. She had a good smile, Finner noted. He tried to adapt his own smile to imitate it, only further perverting the horrid expression on his face. A charming smile, he had no doubt. This female greeted him, speaking of how she had thought herself mad. “Is thinking yourself mad not a delusion in itself?” he asked, seemingly unaware that bringing up philosophy with strangers was a bit untoward. His odd eyes focused on her, before the white pupils dilated drastically, so that barely any black was visible. He was trying to read her body language, and thus understand social cues.It took him about thirty seconds of awkward silence before he spoke again. “Hello, travelers,” he said, as if he had not spoken at all before. “What brings you two out here?” he asked. That was a good interaction, he assured himself. Smooth. What else? Sustenance. Living creatures loved to eat. Brilliant, he was acing this social thing.“Are you hungry, human? Lizard?” he unshouldered his pack and rummaged around inside. Before long he procured the still beating heart of a wyvern. The tissues of another living creature? Definitely. He held out the heart in a fistful of macabre offering. “I’m not going to… er… finish it.”

Vikki's examination of the intriguing pale figure came to an abrupt halt, as she was taken aback by its rather strange expression. For a second she even feared that she might have provoked the being into attacking her and the other, lizard-looking fellow. But her fears were quickly dispelled as it went on to speak, and in a friendly manner, no less. Having asked the tiny lizardman about the clothing he wore, it had then turned to her, asking a question of a philosophical nature. While it was a far cry from what she had expected from a trek to the woods, she certainly did not mind it. As a matter of fact, she was more than willing to voice her thoughts:

- Oh, my statement was merely an exaggeration. But this doesn't answer your question, does it? Well, come to think of it, there is a paradox. But whether the statement is in fact deluding? Well, I think that it indeed is!

A smile on a young woman's face widened, as she was most happy to have had an opportunity to whip up a brainstorm after a days-long pause. As if her brainpower weren't involved enough in examining this strange specimen, with the way it spoke and acted… She was no longer freaked out when she saw its pupils widening, but she was surprised to hear it speak as it had first met her and the lizard fellow next to her.

- Hi - she answered the being's greeting, her pale face visibly blushing as it struggled to contain her amusement - I had set out merely for the sake of appreciating what do the great wilds have to offer. And so far, I can tell it's a refreshing change from what I had seen until then. And who might you be? - she asked, satisfied with herself to have found an opportunity to learn more about the strange being. It was before it had exhibited a large, still beating heart in a grotesque manner, asking the two whether they were hungry. Even though Vikki was no stranger to blood, the circumstances in which she got to see the heart had caught her off guard. She could feel her stomach tying itself in a knot, figuratively speaking.

- Uhh… Thanks, I'll pass - she spoke, with a visibly uneasy expression - I don't feel hungry… and I doubt I will the next day or so - she had added under her breath.

Ivacus' brain wanted to process Mister Lizard as an insult of some kind, despite having never been called a lizard before.  It really did.  But there was a firm roadblock in between him making the connection between lizard and insult: that bloody smile.

The kobold backed away somewhat as his eyes widened in response, mouth clamped tightly shut in nervousness though he wanted to say something.  His mind was searching for the right word for it to blurt out in Common, but he seemed only capable of remaining transfixed in a sort of cognitive limbo.  There was something decidedly unnatural about that expression, though he couldn't place his finger on it…is this why Father tried to keep him underground?  Because he knew there'd be weirdos like this running around?  Whatever the case, this…being, whatever it was, simply did not compute in the little lizard's sheltered mind.

He vaguely processed him querying him about his clothing of all things, which only mystified him further.  "I…the…fffthssss…why would I not wear clotheszzs!?" he managed to get out, the pitiable product that came from his logical duress.  Speaking in a language he was unaccustomed to and being faced with such a strange creature were making him feel and act quite dumb indeed.

Thankfully there soon came some relief as he heard a twig snap a few yards away from him.  Someone else had come to join this strange get together in the middle of the woods, though she seemed somewhat more personable and…real, for a lack of a better word in his mind to describe it.  She even looked a little like Father Kreest, with her un-scaled, smooth skin and ebony hair.  It was comforting, in a way, and even her bright voice as she greeted them was soothing in comparison to the jarring interaction he'd just undergone.  But he still remained cautious; he had no idea who these two were, after all.

He simply eyed her suspiciously, trying to mask his relief, as he took the opportunity to step to a more comfortable distance away from the homunculus he had become acquainted with.  He was almost about to say something before the construct engaged her in some sort of philosophical wordplay; it was lost on him for the most part, as his lack of experience with spoken common just made it sound like they were both speaking in tongues.  A slight look of frustration crossed his visage as he attempted to understand what the hell was going on, but it was only compounded when the strange creature he had just met seemed to…reset.  It greeted them both as though they were fresh faces to him.  Eventually, however, he asked them both what they were both doing out in the middle of the woods.  Finally, something he could understand.

"I am…mm…looking for myself," Ivacus growled out as his clawed hands fidgeted with his robes furtively.  His jaggedly intense accent was smoothing out as he slowly felt more comfortable, though his fluency was still clearly questionable at best.  It was better than when he had first started learning Common two years ago, at least, but still quite awkward.

Regardless, it almost looked like they were going to proceed into a realm of normalcy with their conversation, with the lively female offering her own reason for being in the woods.  Apparently she was here for pleasure…he found that hard to believe, given how he felt like he barely survived his trek from the nearby mountain range.  "You…are…perhaps crazy as you say…why anyone would willingly travel here…boggles my head…though that would make me crazy too…mmph, Ssriyua sharhh kresh…" he finished with a sigh as he clumsily fought his way through his response.  He was beginning to feel even more inept than the runed creature he had met.

Well at least, until it produced a literal beating heart from his pocket and asked if they were hungry.

At the very least, Ivacus knew what a heart was from reading anatomy in the Grimorium Nekrotika he had accidentally taken on his journey.  And he also knew that hearts generally didn't beat unless they were connected to a head.  His jaw dropped slightly as he realized that he was literally giving life to something that should overwhelmingly be dead.  He scuttled closer in a sudden burst of reptilian agility, getting a closer look at the heart to see if some sort of parlor trick was behind it.  

"You…you raise dead?!  How!?  What are you!?" he asked in choppy bursts of utter amazement.  If he knew something about the art of giving life to death, perhaps he could help him translate the Grimorium.

Finner’s smile disappeared, replaced by a genuine one. This new smile was actually pleasant, and warm… though he had no idea he was doing it. It was an unconscious reaction to these people. To people in general. Social interactions were not his cup of tea, but this seemed to be going over decently. Until the heart, that was. He quickly stuffed the heart back into his pack. “Can you not remove your heart?” his question was once again, genuine. Pure insanity… but genuine.Finner slipped his covered shoulder out of the toga, allowing it to fall unimpeded. This may have been indecent for another creature, but Finner literally did not possess genitalia. Even standing bare naked, he showed little more than a mannequin might. He opened his chest cavity to show them his own heart. With a small hissing sound, akin to a tight seal decompressing, his stone chest split down the middle, and swung open. Inside was a network of tube-like wires, pumping with pure magical energy. At its center was a glowing sphere, half electric blue, and half sickly green. The same colors as his glyph tattoos. “I do not have a heart… but I have my core.” He demonstrated by reaching inside his chest and removing the core. He held it out for them to observe. “It powers my body, and allows me to function… but I can do without it for at least forty-eight hours,” he explained, in a matter-of-fact voice, which implied that this was entirely normal. After all, for Finner it was.“I am Finner,” he introduced, as he put the core back in its place. “I am a homunculus created by the sorcerer, Marach Faresi. I am the ninth generation of the Pantomath series. My… friend… helped me to escape servitude, but was killed for her actions. I now search for purpose, and to discover if I am truly alive, or merely a simulation of life.” Finn monologued his introduction, not aware that blatant exposition was often considered awkward. Finn looked proudly at the other two as his chest seal shut again with another hiss.“What about you? He who looks to find himself, and she who looks for an adventure. Who are are you… and, if you don't mind me asking, what are you?” he directed this last part at the lizard man.

The strange being's question regarding whether they can remove their hearts, did not help Vikki feel any less uneasy. Unease continued to build up on her young mind, as it went on to remove its toga. The whole situation she found so confusing, she could not utter a word of protest before the cloth covering the being had finally slipped down, revealing it in its full glory. Having subconsciously snuck a peek down there, she was relieved not to see what she did not ask for. As a matter of fact, her unease went on to gradually give way to genuine interest. First about the patterns showing on the recently exposed body, and then to its exhibition of sorts, where its chest cavity popped open, giving way to a network of wiring, which appeared to be fueled by a spherical core, all far more sophisticated than what she got to see back at home on daily basis.

Even though the being had introduced herself, the artificer had little idea of what it was. To call it an automaton would be a gross understatement. And yet, calling it a person would be an overstatement… or would it? She decided to leave that for later, when she will have plenty of time to herself. She nodded along, listening to it speaking about its goal, its search for purpose…

- If I were to voice myself on the matter, We would do well to define life first. What does make a living thing… a living thing?

She gave herself a pause to massage the back of her aching head with tips of her thin fingers. She found that question as taxing as it was intriguing. Much, that is.

- Perhaps you would like to help? - Vikki had turned to the scaly fellow, not willing to exclude him from the conversation.

- As for my adventure, it's only a thing of today, really - she adressed the Homunculus' remark - I'm also looking for myself, in a way. Only recently I arrived in these lands from a Gnomish Kingdom ruling the distant lands. They had taught me much, but I felt out of place, maturing so rapidly, compared to them. I found myself veering towards social circles which were much distinct from each other, and quite often, and I struggled to handle it well. I thought that perhaps abroad I would feel more at home, however odd it sounds…

The little lizard was utterly mystified as this creature, whatever it was, dropped its own clothing to the ground a lot faster than he was expecting, to be sure.  And then followed up his strange action by opening up his own chest and removing his heart!  Or core, as he called it.  Regardless, it was still an impressive feat to say the least, one certainly not possible by any normal living thing.  Though Ivacus was quite weak in the actual practicing of magick still, he knew enough about it to put together the dots as Finn, 9th of the Pantomath series, explained himself.  His story was remarkably similar to his own…he escaped the servitude of a master, and was now seeking himself out in the woods.  It was a strange coincidence indeed, to say the least.  First he accidentally stole the Grimorium Nekrotika written by his namesake, and now he was facing an intellectual mirror image of himself.  

He now realized, too, how much he had been limited by his own former master.  If this was a mere fraction of what magic could do, then he knew he simply had to unlock the secrets he knew were in his own magical blood.  His clan held the name of Manaclaw long before the arrival of Father Kreest for a reason, after all.

He was shaken out of his reverie, however, by the questions of both the magical construct and the fair human.

"I am Ivacus," he began, making more of an effort to remember Father's teachings on how to speak Common.  "Once Urr'shree of the Manaclaw clan.  I have been told we are called Kobolds by those who know of us…I too once served a master.  Kreest.  He……loved us.  He was called Father, and we were called his children.  But…" he trailed off, finding himself looking at the ground as he remembered what happiness Kreest had in fact given him and his brothers and sisters, regardless of how little he wanted to admit it.  

But he was lied to.  He could never return to him and have it be the same.

"He used us.  I have thus left to find myself as well.  As you both seem to have.  Ciel shree'abarrh.  The world is strange."

He then glanced in Finn's direction, taking a look into his now calmer, warmer smile, and his strange inverted eyes of black and white.  He managed to smile back: a small, toothy smile that seemed perhaps slightly cute despite the murderous look of his needle-like teeth.   Though Finn had an artificial appearance, his face managed to seem genuine.  He was honest about his intentions, himself, what he was and what he aspired to be; honesty was something he valued greatly after being taken for a ride so easily for most of his life.

"But I shall say, you seem living to me.  Strange, but living.  Your Father created you well.  Something I hope to do myself, someday."

Ivacus slipped into the deep inside pockets of his tattered robes, pulling from it the black, leather-bound tome that he had accidentally stolen, flipping through a few pages openly.  The grim illustrations within gave a very obvious clue as to its purpose of recording the fundamentals of necromancy.  A dark, yet fascinating book, the Grimorium was.  "Though this says creating intelligence is…hard.  And you are not made from the dead…how were you given such life?"

   

As they spoke, Finner dressed himself, donning again his toga and pack. Finner pondered the stories of his two companions for a long time. An uncomfortably long time. Weeks seemed to pass as the stone homunculus thought in silence. A kobold, a creature he had never heard of. Used by one he trusted and loved. His story was not terribly dissimilar. He had trusted Marach Faresi, but the sorcerer had never lied about what purpose the homunculi served. They were all his servants, means to various ends. The Oski, who were servants. The Pantomaths, who stored the knowledge and secrets that the old sorcerer’s expansive mind had no more room for. The Fey, who served as failsafes, designed to destroy all of Faresi’s work should he perish. The Asvara, or agents, who enforced Faresi’s will where the sorcerer could not, led by the warlike captain, Nuada. And of course the menders, Solde, who performed maintenance and modified their fellow homunculi as necessary. Of them all, over one-hundred homunculi, only Nuada was designed with sentience. So, of course, Marach Faresi saw them as tools, drones who performed a function and little else. He had no love for them, beyond a craftsman’s pride.The woman, who showed special interest in his core, expressed that she was from a Gnomish kingdom. He had heard of gnomes, and their inventions. Great mechanical works, that even the sorcerer had envied. Marach relied heavily on magic for his creations, and though it provided a great boon in many aspects, it also held countless limitations. Magic itself was arbitrary, and held little respect for the laws of physics and all that they entailed. By nature, it violated the natural order, and was at the same time, an integral part of it. By interweaving with the very flow of magic, had unknowingly distanced himself from the fabric of reality. So to him, pondering the nature of physics was like trying to understand the communication of ants. Almost irrelevant, but Marach, no matter how hard he tried, would always be subject to the laws of those ants, even if he did not understand them. Finner wondered if his new acquaintance had any skill in gnomish tinkering. Or perhaps magic? What wondrous new innovations could she potentially craft for him? Well… he supposed he would just be quite kind to her, and maybe she would share in return.When Finner awoke from his long-winded reverie, he saw the two of them still staring at him. He could not read their faces, but he suspected they were a bit miffed at his prolonged silence. “Sorry,” he said, knowing this to be the appropriate response. He had not yet mastered the inflection of his voice, so his apology came off as flat and insincere. “I was lost in thought,” he explained, rather awkwardly. “It becomes hard to differentiate most of the time. I am mostly a shell containing a mind, and so the lines often blur, and I forget about my physical body, or the outside world.” He tried to chuckle, which came out more choked than anything else. He realized suddenly that he was experiencing what the humans called “embarrassment” for the first time. He did not particularly enjoy it.“To answer your question- Ivacus, Once Urr’shree of the Manaclaw Clan- I do not know entirely. I know that my body was constructed of alchemical clay, and that my core is cut from ancient mana crystal, and perforated with infinitesimally small holes to allow magic energy to flow out and into my stone. If there is more to this process, I do not know.” He explained, drawing on the faint memory of Adeline’s lessons on the matter. “As for my intelligence, and potential sentience? I have only theories. My creator uses the Pantomath series to store memories and knowledge, for he has been alive for many eons, and his knowledge has surpassed the capacity of the human mind several times over. Eleven times, to be exact. Each time he reaches this point, he creates a Pantomath Golem, and stores the full breadth of his mind within it, leaving only enough to retain the essence of his own self. Adeline, the elf who rescued me, theorized that the sorcerer made an imperceptible mistake when bestowing the ninth Pantomath with his knowledge, and let slip a piece of his own being. This small spark of sentience grew over time, until it became me.”