Sand, in Iron Golem form, broke his way out of his rockfall prison and emerged into the partially collapsed tunnels. Debris and mixed blood and bodies lie strewn about. Sand did not blink. In the time he had spent in this chaos, he had now become used to seeing his companions dead before him. And he, of all people, had survived with the help of his reflexes - he recalled running ahead of Neeshka as she had fallen behind him… his wits - using the very blood of the githzerai to free himself… and the assistance his companions had provided - which he had not returned and accepted selfishly.
He paused, only a moment, to think on this. And if things weren’t already grim enough, he spotted the construct through the rubble, and a puddle of blood near by it. Constructs did not bleed, so this made Sand curious. With ease, he cleared the rocks and his golem vision spotted the gnome lying over on top of the bladed construct. The sight was bitter and poignant. The gnome’s face was twisted and frozen in a look of sheer terror, one of which he had never seen upon the small bard’s visage in the time he had known him. Grobnar Gnomehands, the naïve, sentimental fool that he was, died protecting the golem from the rocks showering from the ceiling.
Gravely, the polymorphed wizard noted that the golem had repaid the gnome’s selflessness with slicing off one of his limbs and cutting him open at the abdomen. Sand turned his head away, positive that if he looked closely he could spot entrails… and that was not something he was keen on finding. Whether the construct had short-circuited, lashed out purely by accident, or switched its loyalties somehow, Sand couldn’t tell.
Grobnar was a fool… and he paid his price for it, Sand concluded numbly.