AR-14207 "Sev"

Creation and training
Sev was created in 1455 by Baron Felix Vanderbilt, a greasy, sycophantic little man, who treated everyone below him (warforged and humans alike) as his tools and his property.

He commissioned a batch of 350 AR14 model warforged to aid in the war and increase his own social standing. Designed for mobility and strength of numbers, the AR14s were basic frontline fighters, slimmer and with less individual power than other models.

Sev spent their first two years in military training with the other AR14s, which wasn’t so bad. The humans who oversaw most of the training were predominantly members of an old-school orthodox religion and rejected the idea that warforged have souls. But having never left the training compound, Sev didn’t know any different. They grew up believing all humans were like that.

Sev enjoyed the training itself, particularly the swordfighting drills. They had many friends among the other AR14s. They were as close as brothers. Created together, trained together, and lived together every day for two years. Each day after training, they’d hang out, talking about that day’s training and playing darts.

Serving in the military
When training ended, the AR14s were split up and shipped off to serve in different units. For the first time in their life, Sev found themselves in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers. This was deeply unsettlingly to Sev. Sev likes order and familiarity.

Sev tried to make friends at first, but the strangers always smelled mad, and after work, they never wanted to do anything interesting. Like training, and talking about training. They would rather spend the whole day sitting around stuffing food into their bodies and making lots of noise.

Sometimes there were other Warforged in Sev’s unit, and though they weren’t AR14’s, they were still good companions. But they never lasted. Sooner or later, they’d be transferred to a different unit, or they’d get damaged and sent off for repairs, or die.

For 34 long years, Sev served in the infantry. Different infantries at different times. Different wars and different commanders. Sev stopped paying attention after a while. They were bought and sold too many times to count, and when there were no wars to fight in, they were put to work doing menial tasks like building roads or watching storehouses.

Sev enjoyed fighting, but that was about all they enjoyed. It was about the only thing that made sense to them, and they were damn good at it. If war had been mostly fighting, Sev might have been happy in the infantry. But in Sev’s experience war is 90% digging trenches and marching in the rain and waiting. And being ordered around. Sev hated being ordered around. While in the military, Sev has tried to escape 3 times. Once, after 4 months of service, when they first learned the concept of freedom. Again, after 2 years, when they had a close call on the battlefield and realized they didn’t want to risk their life fighting someone else’s war. And a final time, after 17 years, when someone they had fallen in love with was leaving the military. Over the years, Sev got used to being around other races. In their youth, they spend a while in a warforged rights group, where they mostly sat around hating on biological races. But Sev has mellowed out since then, and learned there are good humans and bad warforged. Sev still believes most people are still shitty, but race has nothing to do with it.

Eventually, Sev even learned to enjoy some of things other races do. Not most of them, but they do enjoy poker, cigarettes and dwarven drumming music.

Eight months ago
The years of fighting took its toll on Sev. Their body became worn and battered, the steel dentend and the wood weathered. The people who owned Sev were always too cheap to pay for proper repairs, so the injuries mounted up, and now Sev isn’t even half the swordsman they once were.

Sev’s luck changed eight months ago, when after a long seige, their side took control of a castle. From a minute they set foot inside calling to them from deep below, whispering their name. Sev followed it to the deepest basement, locked in a vault, hidden from the naked eye. There they found it. The sword.

It was a longsword, black from hilt to tip, with a ruby in the pommel. It whispered to Sev, promising them power. Freedom. Revenge. And all it would cost is their soul. Sev never really believed in souls anyway. And even if they did, they had been owned by someone else their whole life. The only difference is this way, they’d get something out of it.

That night, Sev killed their Captain and the second in command and fled the area. They made a list of nine names, crossed two of them off, and started their search for the third name on the list: Baron Felix Vanderbilt.

Some of the names on the list are very powerful men, both politically and physically. Sev knows it may take many years of training before they are ready to take them on. That’s OK. Sev has waited 37 years, they can wait a little longer.

For now, though, Sev is flat broke and just trying to get together enough money to get to the next city.

Hexblade Patron
Sev has no idea where the sword comes from, or who made it, or why. But they do know a few things about it. They don’t know how they know these things, they just do.

Sev knows that the sword is ancient, probably thousands of years. They know that its name is Noctus Naharus. And they know that it has only one desire, and that is death.

Sev also knows that the sword is holding out on him. It’s more powerful than it shows, and Sev just has to prove themselves worthy to wield that power.

Appearance
Sev is old for a warforged, and their body shows it. The steel is scratched and dented, the wood is weathered. On their forehead is the insignia of Baron Vanderbilt, a ram wearing a crown, which they cover with a hood when needed. On their chest is their number: AR14207.

Sev is slimmer than other warforged, built for speed and efficiency rather than pure power.