2 years ago, Year 383 of the 4th Age

"Where-Where am I?" A voice calls out in the silence. Is it mine? "I hear, but I do not see. Where am I?"

"The Hells is it?" "I got no idea. Rina, come look and see what you can tell." Voices echo around me. I hear, but I do not see. "Alright, gimme a second to-...What in the world is that?"

There is a flash of fire in my mind, like my brain has been kicked into motion. Vision floods my eyes. A face. A small face, like a child's. "I think I've got it!" The face speaks with the soft voice of a young female. "Nice job, Rina. Now what is it? You gnomes know what everything is." A voice I cannot see the source of, before the owner enters my vision. Scar over one eye, a smile of crooked teeth, body flowing with muscle and a voice cold and ragged, like the breath of a starving wolf who's found his next meal.

"Sorry, Cal, I can't say. This one's a first for me. Nothing like it in the engineering textbooks either. Which means it must be from a very, very long time ago. Beautiful, though. Look at the markings on the stone and wood. It seems to be...I dunno, like it's made of them. Like they're its body. And here. That must be its heart." The small woman looks down at me with the utmost curiosity.

"Well, don't tinker too much. If it breaks, we can't sell it for scrap. At least we have this cave for our loot. Haul it in, boys. The rest of you, dig this thing up and let's see what we get." The scarfaced man gestures to others, who begin to move bags and crates into the space around me. I see, I hear, but they cannot hear me. Am I not speaking? I hear my voice in my head, but I cannot be heard. I have no mouth and I wish to be heard. The gnomish figure steps down as others surround my vision before it goes dark.

When next my vision returns, I am laying atop a rough slab. The gnome woman stands above me, an assortment of tools laying before her. "Let's see what we can do to wake you up." She smiles, a bright and cheery smile, not a hint of malice. It makes me content to see such a genuine expression of pure joy. And then she cuts into my core. The pain is...excruciating. I have no mouth and I must scream. I cannot understand it, yet I know it hurts. When finally she stops, I can feel my wood and stone digits begin to move. "Hey guys! I think I got it working! Fingers just twitched."

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More people crowd my vision. Tall ones, short ones, lean ones and fat ones. Some with fur, some with scales, some with horns and long tails. They seem excited. "Maybe we can sell it."

"We're not selling it!" The gnome cries out, flailing her tiny arms and shaking her head. "Give it some space, you'll scare-" The crowd jumps back as my vision shifts to focus on the gnome. One arm of wood and stone reaches out, brushing over her face. But she does not look perturbed by the sudden movement. If anything, she seems more excited. "It's alive! This is so cool!"

My legs will not move. As my vision turns to them, the problem becomes obvious; I do not have legs. Somehow, this is not startling to me. I look to the gnome, and a mouth of stone cracks open. "Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-"

"It's alright, take your time." I stop my attempt at speech, thinking of how to form the words. After a moment, I turn to her again. "Where. Am. I?"

"You're in a cave in the Arboria Hills. You must have been down here for a really long time." She dusts off my body, or what's left of it. "But it's ok. You're a bit damaged, but I should be able to make some repairs." She holds a hand out to me. "I'm Rina, by the way. What's your name?"

Name? My name? I can't understand the question. A flood of thoughts wracks my mind with memories of a time I cannot remember. "Names aren't a thing for these guys. Designations, that's all. They're not even like us anymore. Nothing left of them but a remnant of the souls that were used to make them." A voice I remember fondly. My...mother? Is that the word others use for their creator? Yes, my mother. She was kind, but also stern. Failure was tolerated, but punished. We were many, she was one. We were children, she was a god. How we loved our mother, whose voice sang us to sleep.

For what purpose were we built? Why am I here? Why am I? The questions flash through my mind at lightning speed. I cannot contain them all, and as Rina, kind Rina pats my arm, I feel the questions slipping into the dark. The answers will come in time. But for now, one still remains. What is my name?

For a long moment, I think on the response. What is a name? A designation meant to identify an individual. A designation should be simple, short. It should represent an individual in all they are. But what am I? A forgotten piece of a forgotten age. A leftover, a...

"Remnant. Call me Remnant."