Thanks for taking me into the group, nibel.
I've elected to play a Warforged Wizard with a hint of Rogue named Blockade. If you all don't mind, I'd like to introduce him through a little story. No need to read it, it's just a long rendition of a short history.
A group of weary-looking humans walked into the noisy inn. Marfalcon eyed them over his ale as he slowly drank it--as slowly as a dwarf can, anyhow. He didn't need the wisdom gained over his hundred years or the experience from his days adventuring to tell him that this group had seen quite a scuffle, nor to tell that whoever they'd fought had borne the brunt of the damage. Despite their broken armor, filthy bodies, and still-bleeding wounds, they continued to push each other around and hurl playful insults regarding each others' ability, or inability, to hew down hobgoblins.
Marfalcon smiled to himself, recalling a time when he too scoured Khorvaire and Xen'drik for riches. Soon he found himself lost to dreaming, being pulled back to the world upon the words "Drinks for everyone, on us!" Marfalcon turned to see the human standing, and almost instinctively said, "Aye, I'll drink t’ that!" He downed the pint of ale that had only moments before been set before him.
The human grinned and gestured towards Marfalcon. "And two for this thirsty dwarf!"
Marfalcon let out a hearty laugh. "Now there's a lad what knows how t’ make friends!" He got up and moved over to the table the humans were at. "Tell me, what brings ye folks here? I can see the signs of battle on ya, and I could smell ya from where I was sittin’!"
"You have a keen eye..?"
"Wyrmsbane, Marfalcon Wyrmsbane. Artificer, if ye happen t' need me services."
The human laughed. "Of course, Master Wyrmsbane. I am Seviran; this is Uleri; and Galirahan." He nodded to his two companions. "Your sense of smell does not mislead you. We spent the last few days fending off hobgoblins from a couple wealthy merchants heading this way."
"So, yer mercenaries, are ye? No harm in making a little gold off the weakness of others, eh?"
"Indeed, and more than a little gold we made. But the fighting was difficult; we saw several men fall. Ill-skilled and ill-equipped fellows. Had no business being out there." Seviran shook his head in disgust.
"I tell ye, years ago I got one o' them Warforged t’ take with me when I traveled in dangerous parts. Called it Blockade, 'cause that's exactly what it did. Aye, it woulda stopped those hobgoblins dead in their tracks, a wall of arcane trickery."
“Why don’t you hire it out, then? You could make a good bit of gold in these times.”
Marfalcon nodded his head. “And I woulda, if everything had gone as I’d planned! I selected the materials fer it by hand, scavenged parts from deactivated Warforged, and built the parts I could not find. It was a laborious process, and took more’n a few years o’ my prime life, but when it was finished, after I paid an Archmage a pretty copper to imbue it with arcane ability, watched its eyes come alight and its body pulse with energy…” He shook his head; it almost looked as if a tear might come to his eye. “The common tongue has no words to do the feeling justice.
“I put it to good use, worked it enough to more’n pay fer what I put into it. Then it started t’ get curious. Started t’ ask questions about its freedom of choice, its soul, its life…even the Lord o’ Blades. I can’t prove a bloody thing, but I know it was that cursed elf cleric; devotes himself to the Lord o’ Blades, thinks all Warforged should find it and follow it. Pointy-eared propaganda preacher! I had t’ put up wards around the manor just to keep the damn thing from running away on me! It shoulda been out paying a hefty return, instead I had it cookin’ and cleanin’!
“’Course it wasn’t but a few months before I started to catch it eyeing those wards. I knew no good could come o’ it, so I put it through a process to rid it of its arcane ability.Without its magic, that construct had no way t’ bypass the wards.”
Uleri spoke up. “But without its magic, how would it be of use to you again? Perhaps one day you could have reconciled your differences with it and split the profit from contracts.”
The dwarf shook his head. “I told a bit of a half-truth back there, lad. That arcane power, once given, couldn’t easily be removed. I merely subdued it-- covered it--removed the Warforged’s memory of how to use it. That process could be reversed. Even on its own, something could happen to that thing that triggers an old memory, maybe the words fer casting a single spell. Only time would stand between that first memory and the recovery of its power in its entirety.
“Alas, I’ll never know what became of it. One day, Blockade just up and disappeared. I thought mayhap it had found some unwarded passage; perhaps it remembered some o’ its old magic; perhaps that damned cleric came and lifted me wards fer a moment. I looked fer days, but t’ no avail. Finally I found its exit: a seldom-used storage cellar with an outside exit. The lock had been picked, something I’d never taught it to do.” He stared into his drink, a sad expression, even by Dwarven standards, on his face.
Seviran struck the dwarf’s back with his palm. “Cheer up, Master Wyrmsbane…have another round. And if we see a spell-slinging Warforged that goes by the name of Blockade, we’ll subdue it and bring it back…for a price, of course.”
Marfalcon just smiled. “Nay lads, I wouldn’t want ya tryin’ that. Ye seem like good men, with a long life ahead o’ ya.” His grin widened. “No reason t’ cut it short on my account.”
DUN DUN DUN.