You were still a little wary of the Fighter of your party.

Hawthorn. Not that you had any doubts about the reputation of Warforged to begin with, but the guy was an absolute machine in combat. Clearly whoever built him knew what they were doing.

You’d been travelling alongside him for a while to find this ‘collector’ person somewhere in the three kingdoms. Apparently he could find you something you need, or at least point you in the right direction… but Hawthorn’s reasons for tagging along were still a bit of a mystery to you.

When he wasn’t demolishing enemies with almost frightening efficiency, he made a conscious effort to understand the others in your party, despite his misunderstanding of social cues, he tried.

As the party camped for the night, you woke up from a disturbed dream to find the Warforged in a state of sentry. Considering he didn’t need to sleep, he was usually on watch through the night. His crystal eyes flickered from a dormancy into a state of light, a soft ‘whirr’ emanating as he turned to face you.