Zen(4)Zeta is an adamantine-plated warforged, who knows its proper place in the world. Its lack of a soul is not cleverly hidden behind an introspective, thoughtful personality, the way more recent models have become. They are erratic. Complicated.
Flesh-creatures call it Zeta, shortening the official designation for convenience and brevity. Zeta approves. It is efficient.
Zeta is an older generation model. Old enough even, that some memories have become faded as newer and more urgent information overwrites them. Like most old men and women, Zeta is traditional, and disapproving of trends. Warforged have no need for religion or philosophy. In their core, all warforged surely must realize that they already know their purpose. They already know their creator. They already know their place. To resist this simple truth is to fight against a Warforged's very nature.
Zeta's place is in combat. It stands between its fellows and the blow that would crush them. It takes the blow itself, instead. This is simple. Uncomplicated. It is good at what it does, and it does not wonder whether there is something more to life. Zeta knows it is a machine, and this knowledge is a luxury that the flesh races can not possibly appreciate. The flesh-races are blind to the fact that they, too, are simply machines. They are just more vulnerable, more confused, and more doubtful of themselves.
(I'll be PMing Zen(4)Zeta's stats to our DM within the hour. Looking forward to playing with you all!)