Two-Four-Zero

990 YK, 10 years ago The new warforged stood in line with its fellow units. An hour ago it came out of a Creation Forge and the artificer in charge told it to go line up next to the rest of the batch. They stood motionless and identical, other than a unique rune, called a Ghulra, on their foreheads. Not that the new unit knew what a Creation Forge, artificer, Ghulra, or an hour were.
Another artificer came down the line welding small plates to each warforged's chest. Her hair was lopsided and the unit found it unsettling. It felt a mild heat as she welded its plate on. "You are Breland Soldier Unit Two-Four-Zero. Follow the unit to your right," she pointed a direction, presumably right, "to report for basic training." Two-Four-Zero did as it was told.
***
Two-Four-Zero learned movement, language, reading, mathematics, cultural norms, and other basic subjects. The warforged passed from instructor to instructor 24 hours a day. During cultural norms training the instructor taught the batch about how the races of the world were divided into male and female members. The instructor explained that the warforged, while technically aesexual, would be considered male by their owners due to their physical build and vocal pitch.
***
Several weeks later Two-Four-Zero emerged from lightning rail steerage car with the rest of his batch. A Brelish officer barked orders, "All right you walking hunks of scrap metal, march south 70 miles to Ft. Borenax where you'll learn how to make yourselves useful!" Two-Four-Zero inspected his rucksack and adjusted some items that had shifted in transit. Once they were suitably symmetrical he slung it back on and ran to catch up to the column.
There they learned proficiency with weapons, armor, tactics, and unit coordination. Within 6 months they had the skill of a veteran soldier but without the need for food, water, or sleep. They would fight for Breland without rest until the War was won or they were destroyed.
993 YK, 5 years ago
Brelish intelligence learned of a Cyran attack planned using one of the newly commissioned elemental airships. The Eye of the Storm was reported to be the fastest yet and was packed with Cyran commandos. They would fly over Darguun and Zilargo to attack soft targets inside Breland. Intercepting The Eye of the Storm was not an option so a more creative defense was devised.
Two-Four-Zero flew through the sky after being launched by an arcane trebuchet. He trusted the invisibility spell to keep the crew of The Eye of the Storm from noticing his squad's arrival until it was too late. With a jarring thud he smashed against the hull and he quickly deployed his arm blade to anchor him in place. Then he started to climb. The mission was to stop the airship by any means necessary and the mission was everything to Two-Four-Zero.
***
Once again Two-Four-Zero was flying through the sky, this time groundward and missing a leg. Above him he could see The Eye of the Storm leaking black smoke and turning back toward Cyre. Mission accomplished although his exit strategy had not included being blown up. He reached for his feather fall token but realized that had been in a pouch on his left leg which was likely hurtling toward the ground on its own. He was more annoyed by his body's lack of symmetry than being denied a soft landing. Turning his attention toward the ground, Two-Four-Zero looked for landing options. Scanning the countryside he saw a lone house among the rocks and trees of the mountainside. The thatched roof was his best chance to break his fall and he took careful aim.
Whoever built this house had offset the chimney, why couldn't they have designed it properly? While he'd prefer it be dead center of the house, he could understand that being inconvenient. But there was no excuse to not put it in the middle of one side or another. It wasn't even in a corner, it just stuck out haphazardly. And as it grew closer he could see the chimney wasn't even square itself, it was crooked. With uneven stones. Two-Four-Zero's criticism of the chimney was interrupted by his impact with the roof.
***
The fall caused Two-Four-Zero to black out for a moment. When coherence returned he took stock of his surroundings. He was lying in a room filled with mechanical junk. Whether it was always junk or only recently become junk from him landing on it he did not know. In a doorway was a short humanoid with a shocked expression on its face.
Two-Four-Zero thought back to his cultural norms training. The humanoid was short, which indicated child, gnome, halfing, or dwarf. The facial hair ruled out child and also meant male. Given that the mission was taking place above Zilargo this was most likely a gnome. Two-Four-Zero raised a barely functioning arm and rasped, "Greetings ally gnome. I am a Brelish soldier. Please do not play tricks on me because I do not have a sense of humor."
***
The gnome took the situation far better than Two-Four-Zero expected. Felryn was an arcanist and tinker who was fascinated to see a warforged up close, let alone be able to repair one. Two-Four-Zero was apprehensive to be worked on by a non-Cannith artificer but given his severe damage there wasn't much alternative.
"You should quit complaining and be grateful. If you'd crashed all on your lonesome you'd be crawling your way back to civilization!"
"I am grateful but you do not appear to be an expert in what you are doing," Two-Four-Zero cautioned as Felryn continued welding a makeshift prosthetic onto his stump. "I'm a quick learner Zac, don't worry! And it's not like I can make your leg any worse."
"There are many scenarios where a malformed leg would be worse than no leg at all. And why do you keep referring to me as 'Zac'?"
Felryn pushed up his welding goggles and poked at Two-Four-Zero's chest with a pair of tongs. "Because that's what's on your nameplate."
Two-Four-Zero examined the nameplate and between scorch marks and debris the numbers "240" did vaguely look like "ZAC". "The nameplate is dirty and damaged. My designation is Breland Soldier Unit Two-Four-Zero."
The gnome grabbed a dirty rag and started polishing the nameplate. Two-Four-Zero winced but resisted the urge to ask him to stop.
Once the metal was cleaned Felryn gave a harrumph. "Doesn't matter, a number isn't a name Zac." Felryn snapped his goggles back into position and went back to welding.
***
Bulwark, the king's bodyguard, was a regal sight. His towering body was polished to a shine and integrated ornate armor. He had a massive shield strapped to his back and a well-used blade sheathed in his forearm. Two-Four-Zero looked at the elder warforged and felt a strong emotion he couldn't immediately place. Perhaps, longing? Or was it admiration?
The members of his squad had been summoned to Wroat for an award ceremony after their successful mission. He stood at attention with the two other survivors while Bulwark spoke. A few spectators watched from elsewhere in the palace gardens. Warforged weren't considered real soldiers, more like tools, and thus weren't eligible for medals through the normal process. But Bulwark had convinced the king to allow him special honors.
"For your exceptional service to your country I grant you this Bronze Gear. Wear it with pride." One at a time, Bulwark pressed an ornate medal shaped like a gear to each warforged's chest. It affixed with a satisfying thump that Two-Four-Zero felt reverberate through his body. When Bulwark turned his attention to the next recipient Two-Four-Zero slid the gear to dead center of his chest.
With the presentation finished Bulwark continued to speak, "Each of you continue to bear your serial number as a name. I believe the day will soon come when we are recognized as a sapient species with full right of self-determination and identity. In preparation for that day I urge you to choose a proper name. While not everyone will respect your name you'll find that many of your fellow soldiers will grant you the respect you deserve."
That evening Two-Zero-Four considered Bulwark's words as he stood in his assigned room waiting for daybreak. A name of his own? He remembered how Felryn had called him "Zac" and when they'd parted ways the gnome had referred to him as a friend. Zac might be a good name, but it wasn't symmetrical…
996 YK, 2 years ago
A lieutenant walked into the tent where Zakakaz was organizing crates. The warforged snapped to attention though he didn't know the newcomer. Short, stocky, beard, probably a dwarf. He walked up and squinted at Zakakaz's nameplate. "At ease…Zakakaz? Strange, most of you warforged pick a name based on tools or jobs. Never met one who made something new up. Anyway, the war ended over two months ago. You have your freedom and it's time for you to move on soldier."
"Sir, this is the only life I know. I have nothing else to do."
"That's why they called me here son. I help warforged like you find a path forward. Sit down and let's discuss your options." Zakakaz dropped into a seated position in the dirt. The dwarf sighed and pulled over a crate to sit on. Zakakaz had just put it in position. Now that side of the stack was uneven.
"Tell me Zakakaz. Have you ever had any desire to do something other than fight or do tasks in the army?"
"No sir."
"Ok, what is your favorite thing to do in the army besides fighting?"
"I like to organize things sir."
The dwarf looked at the neatly stacked crates. "Should have guessed that by what's going on in this supply tent. Well, we could always get you a job as a laborer but I think that would be a waste of your potential. How about role models, have you ever looked up to anyone?"
Zakakaz thought a moment, "I met Bulwark once sir, I admired him. Could I do work like he did?"
A look passed over the dwarf's face but Zakakaz didn't know what to make of it. Facial expressions didn't make much sense to him. "Son, I'm sure you've heard Bulwark is gone. And I'm afraid The King's Shields don't allow warforged to serve anymore." The lieutenant's eyes focused on the Bronze Gear welded to Zakakaz's chest. "He didn't give out many of those. That would make quite the recommendation. You know, even if the Shields won't take you I think we might be able to get you into the Swords."