Living statues are typically controlled via simple verbal commands. "Come", "stay", "explode", etc. The more well-crafted golems can take more detailed orders. The very best can hold conversations, offer opinions and act of their own "free will", so to speak.
Yet all that is only for the benefits of the non-magical customers who buy them. When a Mystic Artist creates a golem solely for their own service, rarely does it need a comprehension of language at all. They communicate with their owners by a mild telepathy. It only works when the servant is in physical contact with their master, but it is nonetheless invaluable.
Especially if you can't speak.
Lumao wanted to create a golem that could talk with a voice of it's own, so he would be able to relay his thoughts through it, and thereby speak to others. No matter how hard he tried, all his speaking creations crumbled, screamed, whispered or became as mute as him. It was too complex, too beyond him. Lumao had to settle for a very expressive turtle.
Determined to make the most of his situation, Lumao ensured that his mount was superior as a companion and a tool, if not a translator. He imbued it with real personality, he gave it as much understanding as he could, and finally he designed it to be strong enough to carry massive weights. He carved it's plated shell and claws out of deep, fiery ruby.
It's primary purpose is for the sake of companionship during travel: it is not as fast as a horse, not even close, yet it never tires. The middle of its shell has a built-in dip that Lumao fits right into. He can sleep on its back with relative comfort. He even filled the dip with pillows and blankets, where he can rest or read as it totes him along the road. Because they share a mental bond, it is much like holding a conversation with a dear friend as you travel a long path.
It's ruby-made back is hollow. Down beneath his little bed, Lumao has built a hatch that opens up right into the interior of it's shell. It is small in there, only four feet from top to bottom, but it's perfect for storing the most valuable supplies, or for sleeping in on stormy nights.
Shell never buckled under the weight, regardless of what Lumao stuffed in it. The mage once offered a four-hundred pound merchant with two-hundred more pounds of goods a free ride. His loyal turtle just grunted and glared ruefully at Lumao, then continued on their way... a little slower, albeit.
As the mage approached his destination, the bustling capital of humanity, a scattered crowd could be seen only beginning to disperse. There was stress on their faces and curiosity in their voices. Something had happened here. Something negative, if the palpable tension was any clue.
"Hurry," he thought to his golem,
"get me to the gates." It just sighed in response, but reluctantly sped up. Lumao had to feel bad for the creature: it always hates being left outside the anti-magic gates of Wellborough. If it entered, Shell would be nothing more than a pretty statue.
Chasing away his guilt and narrowing his bird-like eyes, Lumao only just noticed someone standing in a group separate from the crowd, on the distance, barely in sight. He could spy a silhouette of white and blue. It looked... cold, somehow, even from this distance. And familiar.
It can't be.Yet it was. Kaezira of the North, the mage of ice who saved his life. What are the odds?
Shell must have known his master's thoughts, because suddenly it was changing direction and chugging along with a real purpose.
"No no," Lumao tried to think,
"Mr. Bal, the merchant you carried that one time, is waiting for us. We can find Kaezira afterwards. We can't keep a good man waiting. He may need a lift again."The walk sped up.
Shell twisted around to look at his rider. He tilted his head sarcastically, a look which both of them had learned means "I'm not impressed."
Wow!, the artist thought. It was really excited about meeting Kaezira. Normally, the most interesting thing this turtle did was when Lumao would open his back to find all the supplies bathed in grass and fish, because apparently Shell is convinced that he can eat food like a real turtle. Nothing will ever change his mind.
Lumao tapped the ruby cover beneath him in quiet acceptance. Nothing would change his mind about this, either. Shell was going to take him wherever Shell was going to take him.
The golem gave a satisfied grunt.
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