Swimming in faces without names.
“Names”, shrieked the High Crafter with spittle flying from his mouth. “They need no names. Does a sword need names to cut? Must a mace have feelings to kill? Do not let their appearance deceive you. We crafted them, yes you and I, to look fearsome to the enemy and to use the tools man has created. That is all. They are no more beings than this wand at my belt. A tool to be used until discharged”. His face melted then, dripping flesh like honey on a hot summers day. Beneath, the metal mask of death worn by the Warforged somehow managed to grin.
Shivers awoke her, a cold sweat rolling uncomfortably off her body in the close, dank room. A dream, no more, yet still. She remembered her encounter with unit 8546 the day before. Magnus he had named himself. So it had said on his armoured plating, hastily scratched into the living wood of his breastplate. “Here lies Magnus. I died as I lived. In war.” If not for these last words, the mangled husk would have been unrecognizable. Greater still though were the number of skeletons surrounding him. Cannith was nothing if not efficient. And they had crafted efficent killers. She knew for her skills were the whetstone that kept them sharp.
She was lost now. She remembered the Old Man in her arms before the madness of the Day of Mourning, blood flowing from everywhere it seemed. His eyes has locked on hers, boring deep, “Find him child. For the love and devotion we have shared, do not fail me.” With his last breath he had pushed the artefact into her hand.
She drew it forth now, lighting a smoky tallow candle to examine it. A perfect pattern laid out in adamantine. A tool she was sure or mayhap a key. But what it might do she couldn’t say. She had sought all the members of the squad as the Old Man bid. Each a sad but ultimately futile endeavor.
There was only one left now. Most like she would die in this bloody war, a prisoner in Brindol to the horde of the bloody hand. Perhaps she would never know the answer to this mystery or finish her last duty to her dead mentor.