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[b]Name:[/b]
Adamas

[b]Type:[/b]
Monstrous

[b]Appearance:[/b]
A mass of stone, the first impression that Adamas gives off is that of an immovable wall, massive, unyielding, and cumbersome. Moss grows over its body like fur, while obsolete cuffs of steel have fused with its ankles, only bits of chain left on it to indicate its prior purpose. There is a hole in Adamas’s chest where spiderweb fractures spread out from. Golden light spills out from them, warm and soft like sunlight. Gargantuan even compared to other constructs, the golem, when standing, reaches to a height of twelve meters, but can shed parts of its body until it stands only at two meters instead. Mostly comfortable with moving on fours, Adamas’s proportions are closer to that of a gorilla, with arms longer than the legs.

[b]Personality:[/b]
For a creature of such massive size and power, Adamas is surprisingly thoughtful, oddly subdued. There is a constant gloominess surrounding it, a fatigue more mental than physical, and its long-lived nature had made it rather forgetful, almost insolently tardy when assigned tasks with deadlines. What was the difference of a couple hours, a couple days, for a construct that had lived as long as it had? It speaks carefully, considerately, and seeks moderation in everything. Nothing good comes out of excess and absence, after all, and in the end, the highs and lows of its life simply…melts together. Taken altogether, it averages out in a long, flat line, and it is perhaps for that reason that Adamas is unable to truly ‘cooperate’ with the atmosphere around it; winter will melt eventually and give way to spring, and summer will wither and crumble into autumn. In the grand scheme of things, the blacks and the whites always end up gray.

To its credit, however, Adamas has wholly become aware of just how gloomy its core makes it, and strives to ensure that not too much of it comes across in its speech. Not everyone shares the same tastes as its infuser, after all, and thus, Adamas largely keeps quiet, feigning being mute. A construct exists to work and fight at the behest of its current contractor. That’s how it was, and how it’ll always be.

[b]Core:[/b]
Melancholy

[b]Background:[/b]
Adamas was made by a lonely doctor, meant to help her with tasks she was too frail to complete by herself. They lived in a hut on the borders of a town, treating those who came, living off the land as best they could. Years passed into decades. It watched her turn pale and silver, until she left her withering body to rot in her bed.

Adamas was contracted by a guard of the town. They had no talent of their own with the creation of constructs, but they had seen the colossus who guarded the doctor, and knew that such power could not be left to waste away. Between reverting to monstrous instincts or respecting the memory of its creator, Adamas chose the latter, and became a construct that protected the town as a whole, a guardian beast passed down from generation to generation.

When calamity struck, however, the small creatures of flesh that relied on Adamas’s strength to stay safe could no longer do so. Brawn was sufficient in driving back marauders, but natural disasters piled up, one after the other, until no one was left. They had either stayed and died, or left and died. As the last Guardsman of Keima expired, the golem found itself alone.

Time passed as it wandered in search of a host, but humanity had been decimated. There was no contractor in the mountains, willing or unwilling. Adamas felt its consciousness slip away, crumbling like the soul of its infuser.

Time to sleep.

So it did.

…

A life burned like a torch. A light shone like the sun. An order ran, clear as a clarion.

From within the earth, Adamas rose again, the roots of the trees that grew on its back snapping off as it rose to crush the rogue constructs assaulting its new contractor. It had been given life again. It had been called to work again. The snow had melted again, and the sun had rose again.

Wreathed in light, the golem laid waste to the beasts, and in the aftermath of brilliant carnage, it laid its eyes upon its latest contractor. A man, disavowed of humanity. A herbologist, seeking only to perfect his own craft.

Years passed into decades with that man as well, Adamas watching as he became the father of an orphaned child, watching as he turned pale and silver, until he left his withering body to rot in his bed. It will respect his memory too, his wishes. It will accept the contract with his daughter, and watch her in his stead.

And whether it be her children or another’s, whether it be a town or a mountain, it will continue to be passed on, until the day calamity strikes again, until the day it must sleep again.

[b]Abilities:[/b]
Outside of its impressive physical strength and its ability to modulate its size by expelling excess material from its body, Adamas is able to project large, magical circles in the area around it and shoot powerful energy beams out of them. At maximum output with no regard to its contractor, it can saturate an entire town with artillery fire, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.
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