User:Doomguy64/My Character Unit-SG5JM64C-88 ("M6")/Bluebook

Unit-SG5JM64C-88 is just a normal, average Warforged... a seven foot tall, 320 pound, walking suit of armor. Completely normal... except that he's a walking remnant from the last war. Unit-SG5JM64C-88(or "M6" as any friends he may have might call him) was created roughly 5 month before the final battle when the spellbomb was triggered. Though he cannot remember any memories of his past except for his training, he does remember the final words spoken to him all those years before by... who? His maker? His commander? A fellow Warforged? He cannot remember them, except for their final words: "Where we have failed, you must succeed. Something must make it past their weapon... and I have chosen you." They then cast a wish spell and...

And he'd powered up here, in the ruins of the battlefield. Everything gone save his name, his skills, and those last words. Everything... everyone was dead. All the warforged had been permanently shut down, their forms silent. He wandered around, in hopes of finding equipment. It was then he came across a group of thieves, raiding the ruins for artifacts to sell to the black market.

They found one.

For the most part, they were no match for the metal behemoth, even if he was unarmed. The sight of an armored giant among humanoids rushing towards them scare most of the cowards off, leaving only one fighter and his flunkie. He rushed towards the metal being-only to be picked up, lifted overhead, and slammed behind the construct. His spine was shattered. M6 claimed his hammer and mail, sensing that they would be of use.

he interrogated the lone remaining thief, learning a general history of the world after the spellbomb. he wandered off, knowing that he would never be at peace. the remnants of the society pre-spellbomb were priceless, though the dragons and the black market certainly try to price it. and here was a young, fresh warforged-a construct of that time-still shiny and new! they would never stop. they would find him, take him, and dismantle him for parts. he must never stop running. as he hid in the woods, the wild life grew accustomed to his presence. after 3 months of hiding, practicing his warhammer on the mountains, and resting with the wilderness, he grew docile, he was still aware he was a tool for destruction, but he began to make peace with his position. all the time he thought. should he stay here? his final order(or so he had choosen to interperet it)