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Moss was very good at following orders. Moss had- apparently- stood here in this forest for quite some time now, acquiring… well, moss. And mud, and bird's nests, and dirt. Leaves, too, though those never seemed to stay through the seasons changing.
Though at some point, Moss had seemingly become… inactive, in terms of thought. Their eye crystals no longer glowed, allowing creatures to touch and hover near their motionless form. It was their nature, as animals, to find a home.
Moss… wasn't sure if he had a home. Moss had stood in the forest long enough to be familiar with all of the sounds of the animals, and most of the weather conditions. The occasional traveler would marvel at the seemingly still statue before moving on, remarking on its slightly rusty appearance. Gold turning green, they would say.
If Moss remembered how to speak, they would say, "Obviously. It's because of the moss. I'm Moss, and I am covered in green moss." But their mechanical tongue had stilled for so long that no one heard a peep, besides animals who startled and skittered at an occasional mechanical whir. Moss was alive, still, but no one could tell them anything about who he was.
So Moss took a step forward, for the first time in a while. Crystalline lights crackled on, shining yellow beams into the dark night of the forest. Whirs and whines stuttered from their gears, a reluctant reminder of life within something that shouldn't have been conscious in the first place. It would go away soon, after Moss figured out where he was going. And probably took a few steps.
So they moved forward.
And forward.
And forward, and onward, on until they reached a place to sit. Several of the trees had been cut down, and it was pouring rain.
Moss didn't mind the rain. They never bothered with fine clothing or armor, due their integrated protection. A warforged had no particularly special bond with their clothes, but Moss liked their ranger's clothing. It was… comfortable. It withstood this long, and so it might even outlast Moss. An unlikely scenario, but an interesting one to opine.
Moss wasn't sure people would enjoy the look of some random, soaking wet Warforged coming into town and asking about anything, so they gently removed what they could of animals and debris that hadn't already been shaken off or ran away. Moss picked off some of the moss on their body, feeling a small sense of… almost loss?... when it fell onto the ground.
Maybe they could keep some of the green moss. It did look nice with their faded golden body, though most people probably wouldn't agree.
Moss left some of the moss on their head, plucking it from where it would interfere with moving. Elsewise, it was fine where it was. As long as it didn't crawl inside their circuitry and magic- which was incredibly unlikely- Moss would be okay.
Moss… felt fine. Though there was no people here, and people were probably resting. Moss had been resting for… They didn't know how long, so they started practicing using their voice again, frightening off the local creatures. They mentally apologized to the animals, then physically apologized, the words coming out as a garbled mess of static syllables.
Moss practiced talking until the sun came up, where he just… watched the colors creep back into the sky. Dark blue was nice, and regular blue was nice too, but seeing the other colors of the sky fascinated Moss in a way that they couldn't compare to anything he remembered.
Moss didn't remember much. There was a fight, something they were supposed to win for their fellow people… That, and researching… the forest. But that was it. Who won? Who was Moss fighting for? What was the research even about? And why did the moss-covered bow on Moss' back feel so familiar?
None of those questions had an answer. Not that it mattered much to Moss, but he did wonder about it in the back of his thoughts. He pondered out loud, the words slowly becoming more recognizable the more they talked. Time passed, and the sun rose. Moss heard noise coming from the usual path that travelers used to pass by. It was sound of wheels, and trinkets, and that usually meant… Merchants attempting to sell their wares.
Merchants knew plenty of things from their travels! Perfect! Maybe they could tell Moss about the nearest city.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for-" Moss started to say, but was interrupted by a sudden shriek. It was indeed a merchant, startled by Moss' movements.
"What in the nine hells-?!"
"My apologies. I was just wondering where… The city is."
"Well, pardon me, aren't you polite. The city I came from, or…?"
Moss pointed in the direction of the way they wanted to go, opposite of where the merchant and their wares had come from.
"Oh." The merchant told Moss about the city. They didn't understand a lot of the phrases that the merchant used to vaguely describe the place, but the merchant said it was good enough to stay in for a while.
The merchant awkwardly inched away from Moss, obviously wanting to leave. So Moss left for the city without another word, their steps unintentionally heavy on the now dry dirt.
It was time for Moss to see how the world had turned without them in it.