Nestled in the woods on the periphery of the bustling town of Geltheas stood an ancient and weathered wooden mansion. While the surroundings and the building itself looked poorly maintained, a closer examination of the structure revealed it to be in perfect condition. The roof, thick with dead leaves and birds' nests, didn't have a single shingle out of place. The walls, covered in moss and grime, didn't have a single crack or speck of missing paint. This apparent dichotomy was the natural result of an owner with great skill in enchanting and very little regard for appearances.
The interior of the dwelling was no better. Ancient tomes and alchemic reagents sat in disorganized piles throughout every room. It was getting to the point that even the cause of the problem, the ancient owner of the building, was fed up with it. This place needed to be cleaned immediately! Just, not by him. And not by any of the noisy loudmouths from the town proper who he had built his home so far out to avoid.
With considerable effort and some uncomfortable popping sounds, the Great Enchanter Cithlar lifted himself from his comfortable chair. Shuffling towards the room he normally used for dismantling beast corpses, he grabbed the materials he would need for the task from various piles as he passed. Some of the materials were, perhaps, much higher quality than would be strictly necessary for what he had in mind, but he didn’t feel like digging through piles of corpse bits for hours just to save a few gold... wait, is this Fire Dragon blood? Maybe more like a few platinum... oh well. Cithlar’s time was worth more anyway. Better to get it done quickly. He’d been feeling more lethargic lately, and just wanted to take a nap.
Arriving in the room which resembled a mix between a butcher shop and an autopsy room, Cithlar set to work. In the center of the table he placed a large mass of dirt... although it was actually crushed Earth Elemental. After emptying more water from a flask than it seemed should be able to fit inside of it, the Enchanter roughly shaped the muddy mixture. Once he was satisfied with the humanoid shape roughly the size of a child, Cithlar dipped one boney finger into the beaker of dragon’s blood and began rapidly drawing tiny runes across the effigy. As each rune was drawn, it glowed brightly for a moment, then sunk below the surface.
Sweating profusely, Cithlar took a few pained gasps, and then steadied his breathing. The task had already been much more taxing than he had anticipated, and he still needed to perform the most difficult part. Cutting off all sense of the outside world, Cithlar sent his consciousness outward on a path perpendicular to the mundane dimensions of everyday life. His mind drifted in the glittering incandescence of the realm of pure magic. Fantastic technicolor radiance shown in all directions, attempting to overwhelm his senses with impossible colors and sounds he could taste. The Great Enchanter was no amateur, however, and focused on his task. Searching his surroundings, he quickly found what he was looking for.
Fragile motes of pure white light floating sparsely through the wild cacophony of magic outside the realm of man’s normal senses. As far as he knew, every living being held within itself such a mote. When a plant or animal was born a mote became trapped within it, and when they died it was released back into the world. If, on the other hand, a mote was forcibly removed from a living creature, more horrible things than mere death tended to happen. What would happen if the amount of life born ever exceeded the number of motes...? A chill ran through Cithlar’s mind at the thought. That was a concern for another time.
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A jagged white claw of pure willpower erupted from the thoughtform of Cithlar and snatched a nearby unbound mote, and was pulled struggling with him as he returned his mind to the shabby dissection room. Wasting no time, Cithlar slammed the glowing white mote into the chest of his nearly complete golem.
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Sensation suddenly assaulted from all directions. Vibrations in the air and light photons struck the newly created mind as it struggled to comprehend the massive amount of new information. Thankfully, it seemed The Master was wise enough to encode certain bits of information into it during construction so that it wouldn’t need to learn everything from scratch. The vibrations in the air are sounds. The Master can use sounds to command him, so he prioritized understanding that input, searching for words. Next, it focused on the constant assault of light, puzzling out the shape of the room it was in with its innate knowledge of mathematics. It seemed to be able to absorb light from three points on its upper mound, so it was trivial to use triangulation to construct a three-dimensional mental model.
[Mathematics Skill obtained at level 1]
The golem was surprised by the voice which suddenly appeared within its head. However, it was not the voice of The Master, so it simply ignored it. All that was important now was fulfilling the only directive that it was imprinted with upon creation; Obey the Master. Finally getting a handle on the task of seeing with light, the golem focused all of its attention on the thing that was probably The Master. Then the thing began to speak, and golem had no doubt in its mind.
“Mud golem, you have a lot of work ahead of you. This place is a mess! Well, I suppose I better give you the standard instructions so you don’t kill a guest for forgetting to wipe their shoes or turn the world into a factory for paperclips... ahem.”
Mud Golem, which he assumed was his name, analyzed every aspect of The Master as he spoke. The Master was a very thin and wrinkly creature approximately 1 and 1/2 times as tall as itself with a steep hunch. If The Master stood upright, he would easily be twice as tall as itself. The Master's exposed flesh was pinkish white, with long white fur growing from it. For some reason, he had covered most of his body with plant fibers dyed orange, and put a brimmed cone of the same material on top of his head. Perhaps covering his body served some purpose? Mud would ask once it learned to speak.
“First of all, do not intentionally kill a human. I made you for domestic work, not combat. If any beasts or pests show up, you can kill those though. Oh, and demi-humans count as humans for the purpose of your orders. Second, obey the orders of any humans unless it conflicts with my orders. Third, avoid being damaged and seek repair if you are injured. “
Something that seemed strange to Mud, aside from the woven plant fiber coverings, was the labored breathing of The Master. Mud had an innate knowledge of The Master’s language, and it was certain you weren’t supposed to take such a loud and deep breath between each few words. Additionally, The Master seemed to be releasing an unsustainable amount of water from his surface.
The Master rubbed some of the sweat from his eyes with his sleeve and continued. “Well, that’s good enough for now. For your specific orders, I order you to defend my home, and my possessions. As for the mess around here, I-”.
The Master’s mouth hung open, and he grasped his chest. Eyes wide, he made one final shuttering gasp before falling backwards to the ground, unmoving.
Mud waited patiently for The Master to continue.