I call him Rocky.
In honor of his valiant fight and capacity for taking a beating, I have bestowed this name as a sign of deep and heartfelt respect.
Then, I did my best to make sure he was restored back to normal.
Or, at least close to normal.
There seems to be a trick to doing repair work on an entity that is actively being held by the [Lesser Sentient Golem] spell. Although it’s not as troublesome as building from scratch, just like when originally enacting the skill, the “template” tries to take my Earth Magic rebuilding attempts and push it into the crappy cookie-cutter form. So, it continues to prioritize the Golem body that the spell is based on, and not what’s actually been built.
There’s still a decent amount of focus and attention required.
My rough understanding is that imprint of the spell can be overwritten, but it won’t completely go away. I’m probably not a high enough rank with the [Lesser Sentient Golem] to tell it otherwise, either.
End result, though, is a success.
He lives again.
Rocky, the chosen Golem: Slayer of monsters, honorable guardian of the weak, destined to continue his noble task. A froggy testament to all who might dare to encroach upon this place. Here above ground, he will remain a dangerously sentient umbrella.
But, above ground isn’t really what I’m concerned about, right now.
The harsh environment is a problem, yes. But, the sun can’t get through a shield made out of solid stone, so it’s not worrisome as long as Rocky stands guard. Creatures might wander in, like those red lizards or some smaller versions of Mister Boulder- which might be a problem. Still, unless something really dangerous shows up, I’m not concerned. Rocky will handle those, too.
On the subject of less natural threats, there are some distant wagon caravans. Just today, I saw another one go by. Luckily, those seem to have little to no interest in leaving the road, but humans are just as dangerous as the Dungeon, in my opinion. In time, if more people find this place, they might be a problem.
But, not right now.
My immediate problem is beneath my lack of feet.
I’m not going down there alone. I might make terrible life choices, from time to time, but I’m not a total idiot.
That place hates me.
Same point, I’m not going to leave the sprout up here alone, either. Rocky is going to stay put.
So… more Golems.
Being honest, outside of philosophical dilemmas of constructing pseudo-living entities and forcing them into an existence of eternal servitude, I found my answer to that question appears to be “almost nothing.”
So, it goes.
The moral travesties of not wanting to die to some ancient lurking horror beneath the ground. Still, I’m happy to report that the second generation of [Lesser Sentient Golem] seems to have bee a success.
The team has been assembled.
Built with far less intricate cores, and more utilitarian body shape, a second generation of Golem have come into the world, each swearing their loyalty to the Tiny Snake God!
They’re not as pretty, I’ll admit. Despite my scavenging, I couldn’t scramble as many many crystals together as I did with my first attempts at this spell- although I did find a few in what was left of the larger monster corpses. Or, piles of ashes, that were once monster corpses.
Which, was not something I’d ever considered before this, but makes a strange sort of sense if I think about it…
Do I have one of those?
Rather not think about it.
I made do.
Built in roughly identical fashion to my original design, with smaller frames and less detail work. The spell didn’t let me go bigger, so I suppose the core size scales with that, somehow. At the very least, I’m confident that they won’t get stuck in tight places as easily. Sure, Rocky stands about a head an shoulders over them, but I’m optimistic.
These guys… I can see it in the polished stones that form their decorative eyes: these are the elite of [Lesser Sentient Golem] that all hope to be.
[Froggy A Team]
With bodies molded by yours truly, instead of that crap template the spell keeps pushing. Faces of frog-visage proudly standing in the afternoon sun. Weapons ready: They’re prepared for anything.
All they’re waiting for, is an order.
Alaster, the spear.
Steward, the sword.
Granus, the… misshapen.
And Gorf, the…
Okay, so I ran out of steam while making these last two, but this guy…
He’s even worse than Granus.
I call him Gorf, the lump.
Considering they’re about to go into the Dungeon, naming these guys might have been a mistake. Any farmer will probably tell you: “don’t name things you’re going to have put down.”
Not that I’m going to put them down.
Well, literally, I might tell them to go down…
But I’m not going to execute them.
You mean what I know.
I’m just very mindful of the fact that that the Dungeon has a habit of murdering pretty much everything.
Already feeling a little guilt.
Look at these adorable stone-cold war machines… They have no idea what is about to happen to them, and that’s probably for the best.
Standing here with froggy stoicism.
Elites, the best of the best, soldiers to their literal crystal-core.
I don’t intend to just let them die.
It might happen, but I’m not just throwing them down the hole, or anything that shameless.
No, if we’re going down into that mess, we’re doing this in style.
Nothing but a large and ornate winding staircase will do, because if the Dungeon needs an entrance, it might as well be a nice one.
No more of this evil crevasse stuff, or pitfall tunnels.
It’s important to have standards.
Come on, you lot.
Time to get to work.