"Ne'er seen a golem like 'at afore."
Reaver wasn't sure how it understood Dwarvish, but apparently it did.
"Think th'magus made it 'erself?"
"Nae. Humans cannae forge golems."
Reaver had never lost consciousness before, but this state of fading back into reality brought it back to three weeks ago, when it was initially activated. The memory between the poorly-fated scouting session and this bizarre conversation just wasn't there, and that didn't sit well with Reaver. It raised its head to survey the land and was surprised to see such a different landscape. Mountains and forests rose up around them, and not too far from here some sort of stronghold rose to challenge the sky. The dwarves that were speaking had their backs to the construct now and were looking at something on the ground.
"See? Lass coulda done. Here's a spare head."
What? was the only thought that ran through Reaver's head. Until now, it had assumed the dwarves were talking about itself. But now Reaver wasn't so sure. It recovered its weapons, which were on the ground not far from it.
The dwarves' backs were presented to the warforged, and they seemed absorbed in whatever they were looking at. Reaver had no trouble approaching them and, with its significant height advantage, seeing what they were talking about on the ground. The wizard that Reaver had intended to behead lay on the ground, and a few feet from her was the head--and only the head--of a warforged. Reaver didn't have a heart, but if it did it would have sank. This was Dagger's head. While the arcane eluded Reaver, it did not take much to surmise that whatever transported it and the girl to this location transported Dagger's head with them, but its body remained behind.
This grief was the first strong emotion that Reaver felt. Dagger was the first thing that had treated Reaver as someone instead of something. Hell, Dagger had even bestowed it the name Reaver. If Reaver had understood friendship at that moment, that's probably the way it would have described Dagger. And now its friend was dead.
The mage began to stir and the dwarves drew steel, still oblivious to the warforged peering over their heads.
"No," Reaver responded to the aggression, then proceeded to smack each of the dwarves from behind with his hammer, knocking them unconscious. The mage, now fully awake, looked up to see the enemy warforged looming over her.
She shrieked in terror and tried to back away, scrambling on her back and looking around frantically on the ground for her spellbook.
Reaver was technically still under orders, but it wasn't sure that the Karrnathi army's jurisdiction extended to wherever this was. He restored his hammer and axe, then held its hands up. "I will not harm you."
The mage bawled for a solid minute while Reaver stood there, unmoving. Finally, she breathed deep and attempted to compose herself. "Where are we?" she managed between sniffles.
"Unknown," was Reaver's reply. "As the spellcaster, I surmised that you must know."
"What? But I didn't cast anything." She shuddered, recalling. Then, figuring she had an opportunity here for the upper hand, she continued. "I was just trying to get out of there. I'm not cut out for combat. I was trying to go back home to Metrol." She paused again, regarding Reaver. "I was so sure you were going to kill me," she muttered as she looked at the dwarves, still unconscious.
"I was," the construct replied. "But I no longer plan to. Such action is inadvisable if I cannot find my unit. Until such a time, you are the one who got us here and as such you may be my only hope to return."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "You want to go back? Why?"
"My purpose is to serve my unit," Reaver replied. "Until I return I serve no purpose."
"Really, you served no purpose before. Your purpose was to gild House Cannith's coffers. Once that happened, your purpose ended."
Reaver did not reply.
The girl did not think she could get them back, but she also feared that was the only reason she still drew breath. Best not to say that, she mused. Stall for time, then escape.
"My name is Gabriella. If I'm going to get us back, I'm going to need my spellbook and some time to rest. Whatever just happened drained me. And perhaps it is prudent to move from here," she added, with a glance at the dwarves.
"Of course. We should travel away from here. I considered the stronghold," Reaver gestured at it, "but it seems likely these two came from there. Let us find a place to make camp. I will stand watch as you rest and then tomorrow we return."
Gabriella offered a weak smile and then nodded, picking up her spellbook. "We'll probably need that, too," she said, gesturing to Dagger's head. Reaver bent down and picked it up, regarding Dagger's features carefully. Even though Dagger was dead, Reaver still felt inexplicably that Dagger's remains needed to be treated respectfully. It bowed its head and then stood, turning back to the mage, still cradling hits friends head. Gabriella looked back up at Reaver and offered, "After you."
As promised, Reaver stood watch over the camp that evening, and in the morning, Gabriella opened her spellbook back to the same page it had been at previously and began to cast her spell. Reaver stood with its axes at the ready, convinced it might be thrown into battle upon its return. But just before the spell went off, Gabriella met the warforged's cold gaze and simply said, "Don't look for me," and disappeared. Reaver stood there, realizing only after a moment that she had just tricked it. And she had Dagger's head. Why had she wanted Dagger's head?