"Person" is probably not the right word. You are a golem

Darkness surrounds you. Nothing but darkness. You have lost count how long you are here a long time ago. Some decades for sure. Probably close to a century. Not that it would really matter. It’s not like you could die anyway. You are here, buried under a huge pile of earth, rubble and the destroyed furniture of your former owner. At least he and his family of sadistic, power-hungry bastards are down here with you. But unlike you, they needed air, food and water. You hope their **** was not too fast. It would suit them, for what they did to you and your kind.

Sometimes, when you try to remember back, you still see the last moments of your life. They are like blurred shadows that are gradually swallowed up by the darkness of oblivion. The shadowy outlines of the cult soldiers that drag you down a long, dark corridor. The sadistic, almost daemonic grin of the dark mage who bound your soul with blood magic to the core of your current body. And your cries of pain and desperation that no merciful ears would ever hear.

This was the day your life as a living being ended. You were **** to become a golem. Or a construct, depending on who you ask. The cult used hundreds of your kind in their main city. From big, bulky war golems made of steele over more human looking servant golems until very experimental looking golems made of rather strange materials.

Everyone was one a living being with an own life. But with dark magic, the cult turned many of their captives into one of their artificial slaves. Controlled by a stick with engraved runes. These control rods were able to **** a golem to do everything. Even kill itself. As long as one of the cultists had the control rod, no golem was able to fight back. Your old masters had your control rod and made sure to use it in every imaginable way to **** and humiliate you.

With an army of golems, who never felt pain or exhaustion or were able to deny an order, the cult started a war. They took over cities and villages. The survivors of their attack were **** to either join their dark religion or die in rituals to gain more power. And some even got a similar fate like you. The forces of the cult were strong enough to suppress a major part of the …

But things changed when one day the united forces of the human kingdoms, the elves, dwarfs and even some allied orcs worked together. They managed to break the front and fight a way to the cult’s capital. The siege lasted for a whole month. The dark mages, soldiers, war golems, creatures and **** to arms slaves of the cult against the united forces of the surrounding kingdoms and tribes. It was a blood bath on both sides. But in the end, the cult was not able to hold their defenses.

Their leader and self-proclaimed messiah was brought down in a fight against the five greatest heroes of the current time. But this is a different story. You story ended in the house of your masters. They were just about to enjoy their lunch, which they could still afford because they were high ranking cultists, when suddenly a large rock smashed through the wall. And a second one in the floor below. The whole villa broke down and you were stuck under several tons of rubble.

The noise of the ongoing battle became more and more quiet and finally ceased. You don’t know what happened, but nobody ever came looking for you or your masters. Since this day you are stuck, but your golem core is still intact. This would be the only way to kill you. But there is nobody around to do so for the foreseeable future. You already accepted your situation decades ago.

But it seems fate had different plans for you. Because one day out of sudden, you hear something. Something different than the drops of water or the scratching of some small animal. Voices. Too quiet to understand what they say, but still clearly voices of intelligent beings. And then suddenly, a small beacon of light appears not too far from you.

“Boss, come over!” a male voice says in human language, “here's a cavity.”

“Rao, light ball!” a harsh voice barks and you hear the sound of metal scratching over stone.

The beacon of light gets bigger and suddenly, a small flying ball of magic light enters the cavity you spent the last decades in. for the first time you can see what is left from your old master’s home. The former dining room is nothing more than a pile of waste not. Broken plates, fragmented chairs and bare bones. You see a skeleton with a crushed head. If you remember correct, this was once the master’s son.

“Looks like a living area,” a sharp female voice from above says, “could be our lucky day. There might be something to get there.”

“I can only see shit and waste,” the harsh voice replies displeased, “wait a moment! Rao, move the fucking ball over there. Is this … is this a statue? No … maybe … a golem?”

“I think you are right,” the female voice says impressed, “it looks …”