Something was off about their latest quest. The solstone was described as a divine tool, something as powerful as the sun itself. Putting something this precious somewhere in a literal desert didn't seem right. Tam really hoped Socket knew what he was doing.

She learned a lot since their meeting, excluding reading. It just felt strange, alien to convert speeches into symbols. And Socket was a nice companion to have. Solstone hunt could put her new skills to the test.

They were told to wait by the border of waste in Dragons Cradle for a third person, another curiosity. That shady merchant could as well send someone with them and not make them wait in an unspecified spot.

Tam was both happy and unhappy about the entire thing.

-Who do you think we'll get?

"As long as they aren't as off putting as that merchant, I think things will work out in the end." They replied. The journey was swift and without incident, which had left plenty of time for teaching, and testing their skills. Solstone, a curious idea that seemed to fascinate everyone so far. Trying not to dwell on it, Socket made their way to a small overlook and took a scan of the area. Trying to be found, their cloak was bound carefully, leaving the glowing outlines of their inner workings to work as a beacon. 

Most intriguing for Socket was by far the Dragon's Cradle. A place thus far only encountered in maps and tales around campfires and tavern halls. What lived in such a place, who could thrive? How was this tied to their quest? In this, Socket greatly envied most mortals and even other constructs. Needing to rest, to enter a state of low function and rebuild oneself seemed fantastical in many ways. In the grip of their own thoughts, Socket paced along the overlook, hoping to be noticed quickly so they could proceed.

"Try to keep an eye on the flanks, I doubt our companion will be coming from the Cradle itself, so hopefully that means they're following at least a similar course as we are." The words always sounded too commanding to Socket, not usually comfortable being at the forefront of happenings. While they were competent as a scout, the front of battle was rarely the place Socket wanted to be. 

"Ye're sure this is the right way?"

Everything looked the same, everything. The only difference being the shades in rocks and how jagged the edges were, besides that, it was all just rock. She pulled up her sleeve and glanced at her tattoo. The arrow pointed ahead to the bolded word WEST¹, and fetched the map from her pocket. Everything was hand drawn and slightly smudged from Vi'ira's handling, but she could tell well enough they were heading in the right direction. At least one good thing has come out of this treacherous journey so far.

"I'm sure of it," Cyran replied, keeping his gaze forward.

The clouds had begun to gather and vary in shades of grey, signifying a visual warning of incoming weather, but no raincloud in this land was ever signaling just any storm. It still seemed far enough away, but storms in the Dragon's Cradle were frequent and ferocious. Vi'ira adjusted her hood, pulling it closer to shadow her face. If it did start raining sooner than she anticipated, she wanted to eyes to be shielded so she could focus on the rough terrain around her. Her black leather boots clung to the rocky ground as she hiked up the mountain, raising her knees closely to her chest when it got steep. She came to a flatter part of the area and looked around for 'artificial constructs', at least, that's what Vi'ira had scribbled down when she heard of this hunt. She had had a run in with a sketchy traveling merchant at a port whilst she was returning from the Moonveil Village. Seemingly at the same time, Cyran had been speaking with the merchant himself. These two had a tendency to run into each other at the oddest times, but Vi'ira had no plan to protest. They worked quite well together, and here's to another quest shared between them. She had been instructed to reach this waypoint on a messy map given to her by the merchant and that there was a promise of a Sol Stone. Vi'ira had heard word of Sol Stones being scattered throughout Charon, and how many had been keen on finding them. The power that they held was enticing, and the thought of possessing it was addicting.

Suddenly, she caught sight of a silhouette in the distance with a faint blue glow surrounding it. "That's surely out of place," she muttered to Cyran, taking a step in that direction, but being sure to proceed with caution.

As she approached, she took note of a second figure, and pieced together in her mind that these must be the two joining her on the hunt. This was sure to be interesting. She stood behind them, unsure of how to draw their attention and not cause them to jump. She let out a quiet, muffled cough.

"Ye must be the 'artificial constructs'?"

---

1. True North

Cyran was grateful he'd run into Vi'ira when setting on this quest. He was skeptical, to say the least, of the shady merchant's claims. A simple tradesman who just so happened to have heard rumors of the location of an ancient artifact of godly power? While he was intrigued by the claim, it reeked of a scam. But Vi'ira seemed interested when they discussed the rumors they'd both heard, and he couldn't help but feel protective of her. He enjoyed their travels together, strange as they were. So he followed her along to the Dragon's Cradle, chasing after an impossible made real.

They settled into a rhythm as they moved, Vi'ira navigating the lands with her compass, keeping Cyran on the right track as his keen eyes scoured the horizon for the waypoint they'd been directed to. Between the two of them, they managed to make sense of the crudely drawn map they'd been provided. As they walked, Shadows on the ground cast by the gray clouds reached out to him, long tendrils nipping at his heels.

"Ye're sure this is the right way?"

"I'm sure of it." Cyran replied, keeping a wary eye on the clouds. Only a fool wouldn't have recognized that the weather was about to take a turn for the worst. It was best for them to find these... construct companions and make their way to the location they'd been directed to. If it was a tomb, then at least they would be protected from the elements.

Vi'ira must have spotted them first, nudging him to get his attention. Once she pointed out the strange glowing figure, it was hard to miss. He followed after her, resting a hand on the dagger secured to his belt protectively. Whoever they were, they'd better be trustworthy. If this turned out to be some sort of trap and they made any move against Vi'ira, they would regret it. She could take care of herself, of course, but Cyran wasn't so forgiving of those who hurt his own.

On guard, he watched from a couple of steps behind as Vi'ira greeted the two, saying nothing. He blended in naturally with the shadows, observing their interaction, ready to step in at a moment's notice.

Tam was suprised by the voice coming from behind, but didn't show it, looking the newcomer directly into eyes... eye. Did she look similar having one as well?

-Only one of us is artificial. This body is not me, you could call it a cloth or an armor. Name is Tamarind

She reached out to shake newcomer's hand. They spoke strangely and she could barely understand a word. But that was not a reason not to try to get closer.

The newest companion seemed both old and young, with smooth skin not suiting silver hair and eyes. Socket and herself, while more extreme, were not such an oddity.

Closing their eyes, Socket concentrated a brief moment, willing the glow to dim and fade away. Once taken care of, they walked over to greet the others. Socket was surprised that a pair of adventurers had shown up, the merchant again not giving much for details. 

"Well met, I am Kosoku, or Socket to my friends. It's true, I am artificially created. Hopefully this is no bother but I shall do what is needed to see this job taken care of. What are your names, if I may ask?" Socket inquired, fascinated by the mannerisms of others. Reaching into a pocket, they pulled out a small notepad, ready to note every important tidbit.

Vi'ira was startled as a voice emerged in the back of her mind that wasn't her own, but the voice of the mouthless, wooden figure. At least, she assumed so as the figure, Tamarind, shook her hand as the voice echoed in her head. She was fascinated, and noted to herself that farther into the quest, if things went well between the group, she would ask how storing your soul in a wooden frame works, how it feels, and why she chose this specific physique. Not that there's anything wrong, but Vi'ira likes to ask any and all questions possible, if able. She shook Tamarind's hand firmly, looking at only one working eye.

"Seem's we've got the same physical ailments," she grinned, pointing to her darkness-stricken eye. She was unable to see through it at all, only detecting rays of light and how bright a room was. However, if she focused hard enough, she swore she could see shadows dancing around, almost like a black mist floating in front of her eye at every moment.

She turned her attention to the catlike machine, her grin still on her face. The first thing she noticed was the notepad they kept by their side, writing utensil in hand. Another similar thing between these two adventurer's. She enjoyed the idea of asking Socket at a later time what they liked to journal about. Maybe they were planning to be the secretary of the group, or maybe, like Vi'ira, they wanted to make sure nothing went unwritten. Every story gets its own page. "Pleasure to meet the both of ye. Name's Vi'ira, and this is..." She gestured behind her at Cyran, who still stood a couple steps behind. She twiddled her fingers, ushering Cyran to come forward. She never understood Cyran's timidness at times, because from what she has learned throughout their time together, he was quite the force to mess with. His humbleness certainly did aid in shocking his enemies though, and that could come in hand.

As the other's became introduced she looked off into the distance, seeing the storm growing nearer. "We best be getting on our way, and pray the Stone is 'idden somewhere that can keep us dry."

"Cyran." He offered his name plainly, tone evenly neutral. He wasn't sure what to make of the two constructs- they were unlike anything he'd ever met before- but they didn’t seem threatening upon first meeting. Slowly, he forced himself to relax, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to release tension. Really, he was getting irrational. Vi’ira was strong, and a good judge of character. There was no reason for him to be distrustful based on first impression alone on her behalf, though he did worry about her.


“I suppose that makes us a company for the time being.” He said. Though they made a… rather strange group of fellows together. He addressed Vi’ira’s statement next, pulling out the map they’d been given by the merchant. “If I’m right, the artifact we’re looking for is hidden in one of these mountains.”



He pointed to the crudely drawn mountain range drawn in charcoal, smudged from the number of times that Cyran and Vi’ira had pulled it out to double check where they were going. Each mountain was represented by a triangle, with a large X marked over the tallest peak. Below that peak, written in messy scrawl, was the merchant’s own warning, which read, “BEWARE THE LITTLE CREEPING CRITTERS THAT CRAWL IN CAVES AND CROON CONUNDRUMS.” Cyran and Vi’ira had no idea what it meant, despite puzzling over it on the journey here. When they asked the merchant, the man had simply giggled and sauntered away, clicking his feet together like he was dancing all the merry way. He was clearly a madman, though whether this rumor was true was yet to be seen. There was only one way to find out.



Cyran pointed at the tallest peak- there destination- then looked up at the snowcapped range in front of them. “We should start making our way to that one in the center.” He gestured towards their destination. “With any luck, we’ll reach the base before the storm hits.” That was wishful thinking, though, considering the wind was already to pick up, and the chill was beginning to seep into his bones. “We should make haste.”



With their destination in mind, they set off.



Cyran and Vi’ira made small talk, discussing the recent announcements made at the Marrowvine Ball regarding the elven council. Vi’ira offered surprising insights on the encounter, and it was nice to know they had similar opinions on the matter. Political unrest, the uncovering of an ancient godly artifact… something in the air of Charon was changing, and Cyran wasn’t sure he liked it. The Sol Stone and unification of the elves were just smaller steps in a bigger picture.



During their discussion, Cyran kept an eye on Tamarind and Sprocket, both of whom were engaged in small talk of their own. They seemed to already be well acquainted, which he supposed wasn’t surprising. It did bring to question something that had been at the forefront of his mind since they met, however. Cyran turned to the two who were engaged in their own conversation. “Forgive me for being forward, but what brings the two of you after the Sol Stone?” Their answers would give insight as to whether Cyran could trust them or not. The pursuit of power for the sake of power was a rather ugly thing in his experience, and he wouldn’t aid those who simply lusted after what the Sol Stone could grant them for their own selfish purposes.



Thinking you could harness the power of the gods… that was ignorant. And dangerous.



Cyran listened to their answers and mentally cataloged their responses as the four approached a small basin. They had reached the peak of the mountain, where two large, ornate stone doors were carved into its side. They were easily fifty feet tall, and a fine piece of craftsmanship, covered in ornate runes and symbols that clearly had been carved with great care. As they approached, Cyran couldn’t help but stare in awe. The runes glowed slightly with arcane magic, pulsating with a faint white light. The sight was breathtaking.



He was surprised to realize that the words carved along the curved sides of the door were written in elven script. It was an older form, yes, though the language hadn’t changed much over the millennia- there was little need for it. Cyran squinted, trying to make out the words.

What cannot ped-, but will replui ir spoken na?

“What cannot speak, but will reply when spoken to?” Cyran muttered to himself, automatically translating the script to the common tongue. What did it mean? There was no clear lock on the door, and no way for them to simply push it open. He wasn’t even sure they could if they tried.



“It must be a riddle of some sort. We have to supply the answer to gain entry.”

Tamarind wanted to smile to Vira, but it was not quite doable. She then nodded at the proposal to find some dry spot. While rain couldn't do her much bad, wet sand sticking between joints was a different thing.

Another person joining was not such a big suprise, for her at least. Travelling alone, as she learned the hard way, was not necessarly a safe practise.

-Nice to meet you, Cyran

They set off, trying to outrun the coming storm, with all four split into groups of how they met.

-So what do you think about our company? - Tam sometimes felt like an actual marionette, unable to act on her own. Hopefully it would change soon, at least Socket took a good care of her for the time being.

Soon they reached the gates, looking very promising. Hearing the riddle, Tamarind responded immediately.

-I could suit as a solution, but I don't think builders knew I would ever show up here

The trek across the Cradle thankfully was swift. Socket watched over Tam along their journey, replying in a flat tone "We're all on this path together, so it should be a breeze between all of our talents. The rest will happen, and the choices behind those actions will speak for themselves."

Sometimes nearly idling, other times spastic, Socket took a jagged and erratic path along the journey. Keeping in sight wasn't difficult, and often they found some curious thing, stopped to take notes or make observation about new encounters.
The Dragon's Cradle itself was lovely in it's own way, and the storms it produced would please Avasha with near certainty. Perhaps this was a place where one could commune with the Sky's Goddess directly. Jotting the idea down, and taking a moment to admire the ferocity of the storm only a few miles behind, Socket caught up swiftly as Cyran and Vi'ira were examining the ruins. 

"I'm personally after the potential knowledge and information pertaining to the Sol Stone. The Stone itself is a wonderous artifact I would presume from it's stories, but being able to create not only a replacement, but other wonders of it's technological and magical level are indeed worthy pursuits. Wisdom of those whom walked this world long before any of us could have hopped to know." Socket answered Cyran, after having given the question a bit of thought. Truly, the idea of the artifact itself sounded like a great deal of hassle and upkeep, but the information about those who built and harnessed it's abilities would be insightful for the future.

The architecture didn't seem all that unusual, not for a ruin in a somewhat remote place. As the riddle of the door was read, they paced the courtyard, metallic paws clacking against the stones with a ringing tone. About the third circuit between two points, and Socket turned sharply, scraping against the stone til it shrieked in protest.

"An Echo, that's the best I've come up with so far, but I'll continue processing this oddity of a word play." They exclaimed, looking to the others in hopes that someone knew more.

Vi'ira approached the door and stood alongside her companions on this quest. There was a riddle carved into the stone above the jagged, rocky door. This Sol Stone must be hidden quite well for it to be inside of a mountain and behind a door. Better yet, there might be other living creatures seeking to protect it, especially if a riddle was given to even get inside. She began to prepare for the worst, but trusted that alongside Cyran and her newest acquaintances, they could handle themselves. Four was a decent sized group to travel with, and surely that comforted the rest of the adventurers.

"What cannot speak, but will reply when spoken too." She muttered under her breath following Cyran reading it out loud. She wasn't sure if Tamarind and Socket could read Old Elvish, but thankfully they were venturing on this quest with two Moon Elves. Then again, she wasn't really sure at all how their minds worked, or if there were any physical brains in their heads at all due to one being artificially made and another being a soul inside a wooden figurine. That was a question for another time. One that could be shared over drinks when this pursuit was complete.

Vi'ira unabashedly loved riddles and any kind of word game under the sun. Anything that challenged her mind to dig deeper, she was all about. She chuckled at Tamarind's joke towards the wording of the riddle, and found that she was absolutely right. Technology has advanced since this was carved (assuming so because of the Old Elvish) and probably never anticipated a mouthless, yet well spoken, automaton to make it's way to the mountains. It was when Socket spoke up, that the wheels started rapidly turning in Vi'ira's mind.

"An echo, ye're right!" She grinned, knowing they were one step closer to getting the Sol Stone, yet, there were still being halted by the immovable door. Even after two voices muttered the answer to the riddle, it stayed in the exact same place. Of course it wasn't going to be that simple...If it's not to be spoken, how else would the question be solved? That's when it struck her.

"We've gotta make one..." she mumbled, "We've gotta make one!" She instinctively locked eyes with Cyran first, a grin dancing on her face, and then she looked to Tamarind and Socket. "We're deep enough in these ranges. If we yell, it'll echo. Tamarind, if ye clap 'ard enough, ye could make enough noise to create an echo as well." She clasped her hands together, and yelled. A deep "Aaaah" escaped her lips, and she watched as a flock of dark birds flew away in response to the sudden noise. And just like that, her own voice responded to her. The other's voices bounced off the rocks similarly to hers, aside from Tamarind.

The ancient text began to glow, magic seeping out of it. For a moment, the ground shook, but then the door slid open and welcomed the adventurers inside. The inner cave was lined with stalagmites and wet stone, with a puddle of water the size of fishing boat dancing across the walls as the sun shone in for the first time in who knows how long.

"We best not dwell. Who know's who 'eard us."

“Good job, Socket and Vi’ira.” Cyran said proudly, clapping Vi’ira proudly on the shoulder. He’d heard rumors of ancient elven constructions like this, those with simple questions that one had to answer to gain access. These kinds of sanctuaries were old, nothing compared to modern architecture. Why was a place like this hidden in a mountain so far north?



The ancient stone doors swung open, scraping inwards and granting them all access to the halls inside. Desperate to get out of the elements, the four adventurers stepped inside to find an old cave with a pool of water in the center. As they stood there, taking in their surroundings, the doors slowly swung closed behind them, leaving them in the darkness. Cyran blinked, eyes adjusting to the shadows.


He wasn’t sure what he expected of an old mountain hall, but this empty cavern somehow hadn’t been what he pictured. A few stones on the ground glowed with ambient, magical light, guiding the path down the cavern hall that would no doubt take them into the depths of the mountain. “We should be cautious of these creatures that the merchant mentioned.” He still wasn’t quite sure he believed everything the madman said, but he’d been right about this place buried underground, so he supposed he could suspend disbelief.



“We were given directions up until this point, from here on out, we’re practically going in blind.”



He had no doubt that the Sol Stone, or whatever this cave contained, would be heavily protected. Not just any adventurer could wander in here and just take it. But he trusted that the others were capable of taking care of themselves, whatever dangers this place held.



“Underground we go, I suppose.”

The place was kind of beautiful. As they went deeper and deeper, the stone on the walls changed color, each layer with slightly different tone. Stalactite formations became bigger as well. But soon Tamarind could no longer see them. Or ything really, the darkness became too dense.
At least there were no side ways, so they couldn't get lost.

Cyran took the lead, as the one who could see in the dark. Now that they couldn't see, Tam noticed how silent was the place. Each water droplet falling through the humid air into one of many ponds sounded like if someone threw a stone. Each noise got amplified to absurd volume.
Just like the shriek they heard in front.
-What was that? - a feeling of peace Tamarind had got shattered in seconds

Socket followed along, their steps silent on the ornate flooring. The darkness inside was stifling, even the best of adjusting would yield little. Thankfully the companions moved cautiously, following Cyran's lead. As the shrill sound reverberated from the musty walls, Socket scaled the wall and moved forward to try for a better view. Thankfully they were in full stealth mode, because the lack of vision denied them all other advantages. From somewhere above Tamarind, they called down "Be ready, I'm close by to help." 

There was little Socket could do but wait, what challenge would they face this time, and would the prowess of their spells be enough to keep them from absorbing too much damage. Vi'ira and Cyran were unknown overall, so they chose to give the others space to use their abilities and took position near Tam so they could work together. 

Vi'ira stood close to Cyran as they trekked deeper into the cave, all slivers of light around them vanishing. Before they knew it, they were completely surrounded in darkness. Her ears pricked up as a shrill screech echoed around them, and she pressed her back into Cyran's, readying her stance. The sound of metal bounced off the walls as she drew her rapier, relying on Cyran to lead her.

As they neared the source of the shriek, the cave opened into a deep ravine, and the darkness slowly lessened. Wooden beams shot out all around them, shaping walkways and supporting small landings. Torches lit the way of a bridge that crossed over a large hole, the bottom so dark it looked as if it never ended. The blazing light illuminated hundreds of homes, some built into the stone while others merged with hanging stalactites. They were formed with jagged stone and pointed wood, appearing unwelcoming. Bats chirped loudly as they flew in hordes throughout the air, circling the houses and dodging walkways. The Ancient Elvish script carved into the entrance was misleading, as they were no longer elves that resided in this mountain. The only ones were Vi'ira and Cyran.

"This is no elf's 'ome," Vi'ira whispered as she raised her rapier. She stepped closer to the bridge, one step at a time. As she took a closer look, a line of Ancient Elvish laid in front of the bridge, wishing those safe travels as they ventured deeper into the mine. Suddenly, a shadow dashed in front of the group on the opposite end of the bridge. A wicked laugh filled the air as yet another shadow danced in front of them.

"Show yerselves!" There was no use in hiding. Clearly the dwellers of this cave knew there were visitors, and she couldn't figure out if they would be welcomed with open arms or a fierce attack. Here's too hoping for the best.

Goblins began to emerge from various places. They peaked their heads over rocks while others dropped down from the homes above them. A decent sized group stood before them, with about five goblins in the front. She could make out other goblins watching them from the higher points, giggling and whispering.

"Man dares enter our cave?" A gruff voice boomed from the head of the group. Their movements were quick, as if they were shaking with mischievous energy. The head of the five stood with his legs wide, shortening his height even more. His skin was green and rough, with bubbles formed around his nostrils and face. One eye twitched wildly, while the other remained closed with a nasty scar scratched through it.

"Not man! Not man!" A goblin jumped in the back, pointing to Socket and Tamarind, "Tin! Tin!"

"Tin and Elf!" another voice joined in from the shadows.

"Hush!" the gruff voice hollered, taking a step forward onto the bridge. He stood with his back hunched as he leaned on a sharp spear. "You lot 'ave noooo place 'ere. Mountain's our home, no place for metal scraps and knife-ears." He huffed. Vi'ira's eye's narrowed.

"Ye 'ave something we need."

"And what is that? Nothing in 'ere is yours, filthy filthy elf." The goblins all around them hissed: "Filthy, filthy elf!" "Scraps!" "Knife-ears!"

"If I'm right, nothing in 'ere is yers either. Ye don't look like ancient elves to me, much too ugly." The goblins protested, shouting more obscenities and dancing about in frustration. Vi'ira looked back to the group, and looked at them with intense eyes. Cyran seemed like he had just rolled his eyes, as she couldn't imagine he was too pleased at her egging them on. They weren't going to make it out of this one without a fight, and there was no chance in hell they were leaving without the Sol Stone.

The goblin grinned, revealing rows of yellow, razor sharp teeth. "'ave it your way then." He let out another high-pitched screech, and the five goblins rushed forward across the bridge. Vi'ira strengthened her grip on the hilt of her rapier, and raised it in the air, charging the nearest goblin to her.