Yew awakens in a well lit room staring up at a reflection of himself on a wooden table. It looks like his old body, but it does not feel the same. He cannot move his limbs or his head, although his reflection does not seem to be restrained.
"I see you are awake, my boy," says a man with a voice like sandpaper. "That is excellent. It means that your docent has taken to your new shell. I hope you like your new shell. I made it especially for you." He giggles raspily. "For you, I am so witty sometimes."
Yew says nothing, despite it being one of his favorite puns.
"Aw, is that any way to treat your Uncle? Awkward silence? Tsk, that will never do." Yew hears the shuffling of feet approach the table. "We have so much to talk about and only 2000 hours to do it in, before your friends show up."
Yew struggles against the unseen restraints.
"You should really save your energy, because we're going to be here awhile." A glint of light reflects off of something just out side of Yew's peripheral vision. "And like you, I don't need to sleep. Isn't that wonderful?" He giggles.
"My early tests indicate that you have a great amount of will power and warforged, single-minded, stubbornness, which we must repair if you and I are going to make any progress at all. Uncle only wants what's best for you. Uncle knows what's good for you. So we're going to make a game of it. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Yew just glowers.
"Your going to have to say something, or you can't possibly win the game. You will want to win the game at some point. You won't be able to, because Uncle knows what's what, but you will want to. Oh, you will want to."
Yew sets his jaw and still says nothing.
"The rules of the game are simple," the sandpaper voice continues. "I will think of a word. I will tell you how many letters the word has. You get to guess what the word is one letter at a time. If you get a letter right, I will tell you where that letter goes in the sequence. After each right letter, you can guess what the word is. If you get a letter wrong, I will remove something from your body. You win, if you guess the word before I cut off your head." Yew hears the squeaking of wheels as something is moved closer to the table. From the reflection in the mirror it appears to be a table of artificer tools. Yet he still does not see a face to go with the voice. A saw is lifted from the table, by an unseen hand.
"Okay, you ready? I hope so. We'll start with an easy word. It's ten letters long, but only has seven different letters. Okay, what is your first guess?"
Yew just glowers.
"Tsk. Tsk," says Uncle. "Silence is not a correct letter. So I'm going to have to take off your left foot." As the saw bites into Yew's ankle, he feels excrutiating pain, more than such a wound would normally cause, and clamps his jaw so as not to give the man even the satisfaction of a scream.
"You can scream. I don't mind. Actually, it's rather nice when done well." Uncle giggles some more. "I'm sure you've figured out that you are in an extraordinary warforged body. Do you like it? I made it myself. It has two special properties, actually three, if you count the fact that it renders me invisible to your sight. I'm sure you've guessed that one is pain amplification. The other one you will find out about soon enough. Plus, with that docent of yours I don't even have to bother with fixing you very much, in case I get over enthusiastic about my work."
Yew just glowers harder.
"Alright now, we're on to your other foot. You have no letters guessed correctly. You still have seven letters to go. What is your next guess?"