(Nivansrywyllian, LuxGlyph)

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Sam nodded his new companion on the way, and ordered himself a plate of whatever was hot and good. He unlimbered his rifle, and leaned it against the chair he chose to sit in. The table he'd picked was along one of the far walls from the entertainment, and thus empty. He very politely didn't kick his booted feet up on the table. Jamus had earned that much, at least.

It wasn't long before the food came, and the Turley Boys weren't far behind. A crowd of six boisterous men shuffled in out of the cool autumn air, each wearing a grin. They set eyes on Sam after a moment's search, flagging down one of the serving girls to order a round of drinks before they all joined the hunter at his table.

"Sam," Said the first man to sit. He had a ginger mustache that nearly hid his mouth, and close-cropped hair of the same shade. "We'd have been here sooner, but we had some celebratin' to do."

"Join us," Sam said, gesturing to the rest of the chairs. The other five men sat without hesitation.

"We've got some trouble, Tommen." He said, addressing the mustachioed one again. "Big trouble. Let me finish this meal. It'll give the drinks time to arrive, and you're going to want them when I'm done."
_____________________________________________________________________

At some point, Ulen stopped by the inn to join the crowd of gathered hunters, and the men all listened to the story as Samuel explained the situation. By the end, they were all somber. Unwilling to leave the night on a dampened note, Samuel began telling stories of his foibles and misadventures. Soon enough, there was back-slapping, spilled drinks, and merriment all around. By the time the shadows began to stretch long, Sammuel pushed himself up from his seat, excusing himself to the baths.

He washed himself quickly, resisting the urge to luxuriate in the hot water, and cut a line to the rooms he'd gotten. He knocked thrice briefly, waited a moment, and stepped on in.

His hair was damp from the bath, and hung free from it's braids. It looked freshly brushed. He set his rifle down just inside the door, pausing for a moment to pull the bayonette free from it's muzzle. Wiping the silvered blade clean of muck and gore with a rag hanging from his belt, he tucked it into a sheathe at his waist. The weapons belt came off next, and he moved to claim whichever bed was unoccupied. His boots came off next, and they found a place beneath his bed. His belt got hung on a bedpost, and his eyes flicked to Edison, to see if the fellow had fallen asleep yet.
 
The baths were to be found at the end of a hall and down a set of stairs, in the basement of the establishment where everything bounced off stone walls and felt a bit like a humid swamp. And heaven. It felt like heaven too, because he could hear the running water and he could feel the heat and this wasn't the sick fortress or the bottom of that filthy cart filled with bodies or the bottom of a six foot pit suffocating until the dirt invaded his mouth and throat and crushed his lungs. A nameless grave, wormfood, a failed freelancer.

It was worth the wait to sink into the hot steaming water. He sunk down until all was submerged save the top third of his head. The heat immediately seeped into all the aches and pains and the world turned blurry around the edges. For the next hour he spent most of his time soaking away his problems until he turned pruny. Eventually, he did find the will to move and when he did he scrubbed off the filth of the last several days. Several of his cuts bled again against the onslaught, and once he finally felt the need to remove himself from the water he felt his way through his self bandaging.

He avoided the common room completely when he made his way back upstairs - the clothes far more comfortable now that his skin was clean underneath, but he tucked his vest and jacket around his weapons and went up in his cotton shirt straight to his and Sam's shared room. He could have gone back down to the common room - normally he loved a good pint and a round of story telling, but tonight he just didn't have it in him. Whatever business Sam had with these 'Turley boys', he could handle it all on his own.

Edison thanked whatever diety was listening at the moment that he had a plate of hot food waiting for him in the room. He dropped his things on the bed and dug into his first hot meal in weeks.

By the time Same came into the room, the lanterns had been turned off and Edison was in the bed, his things laid at the end of his bed and he was still, but not yet asleep. He listened, and watched as the hunter prepared to sleep, the dim light of the room did nothing to hinder his magic touched sight.

It wasn't until he had settled all his things did Edison let on that he was still awake, hand lifting in a half wave when he found that he was being watched He'd bandaged the gash over his left eye and his face looked much better now that it wasn't caked in filth and blood. "Everything settled for the morning?" he even sounded exhausted. That bath had done a doozie to his energy reserve, "still need to stop by the general store.. supplies" he mumbled vaguely.
 
Sam had left his rune-etched leather armor with Ulen for an overnight touch-up job. He unbuckled his functional belt, and slid it from the loops of his pants. It joined his boots on the floor, and was followed by his button-down shirt. His sock and pants were the last to go, and he slipped under his sheets with a sigh. He liked little better than the feel of clean sheets on washed skin.

"Everything's squared away." He confirmed, dragging the sheets up around his shoulders, but foregoing the comforter. The cool autumn air was perfect for him. "The Turley boys will be joining us on our way out, and they might know one or two other hunters left in town. I'll introduce you to them come morning. We'll grab breakfast at around ten, but you can sleep in if you'd rather. I'll wake you no later than eleven, and we'll stop by the general store, and Ulen's smithy once again before we leave."

"Sleep well Edison. We've got a long day tomorrow."
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True to his word, Sammuel roused early. Nine thirty. The sun was well into the sky, and the day was clear of clouds. He got dressed with as little noise as he could manage, so as not to wake the slumbering Edison. He forewent boots for the moment, intending only to move around the inn. He left in silence.

When ten o'clock rolled around, he returned, and slipped his socks and boots on. His weapons belt circled his waist, and he took up his rifle from it's place against the doorway. "Breakfast if you want it, Edison." He said, before leaving the room for the common room.

He picked the same table as he had the night before, and ordered himself some biscuits, eggs, and sausages from the kitchens as he waited for people to begin filing in. The common room was sparse, with most folks either still at work, or sleeping off the drink the night before.
 
Edison made a vague sound of confirmation when the other laid out their plans for the next day. There would be little rest for those that wished to save the world, it seemed. He listened as the man settled into the second bed, and when all had gone quiet he allowed himself to slip away into the wonderful realm of black, blank, exhausted sleep.

-

The next morning he didn't stir at all when Sam roused himself at Nine thirty. He snored softly in almost the exact place he had fallen asleep in, dead to the world. The pulse of magic, that would ping every second when he was awake, now seemed to move at a slower, more random pace, matching the flows of his deep breathing more than anything.

He would continue to sleep until he was roused at the promised hour of breakfast, jolting awake, only to pause, then grumble out a promise to come down soon.

He was half tempted to stay in the bed. This had been the first proper sleep since he had been captured, but then that would be lazy and he'd miss that wonderful smelling meal that was drifting up from the kitchen. He could smell eggs and sausage and that was enough for him to drag himself out of the clean bed and stretch out the soar kinks. He felt so much more /alive/ after the night allowed to tend to himself. A full belly, a hot bath, a nights rest. Not a hundred percent, but fantastic none the less.

He dressed quickly, fitting into the clothes that were only a little bit big for him, and then clasped the weapon's belt around his waist, the two blades settled at his hips and the bolas tucked in a leather pouch strapped around his thigh. He still needed provisions and supplies, but Sam promised they'd fetch them before they left, so Edison secured what he had before heading back down to the commons.

It was quieter than the night before, as most tended to be without the slick spirits to loosen the wheels a bit. He came to Sam's table and ordered his own plate before he yawned and slouched over the table, on crossed arms, "Right." he began before his breakfast arrived, "So I have questions. Vash is a good five days ride on horseback, at least, are we going to be on horses or will you be showing off with your golem prowess? How many of these 'Turley boys' will we be entertaining?" He paused a moment to consider, "What do you intend to do, when you see I've told you the truth?"
 
Sam was already tucking into his meal when Edison joined him at the table. His new hat was settled on the post of his chair, so he just nodded in greeting. "Six of the Turleys will be joining us, along with some other hunters from the area if we're lucky." He said. "I'll introduce you to the ones that show up soon. I'd take more, but there simply aren't that many hunters in town, and I doubt that old Kurrow would strip the guard barracks on my word. We'll pick up more as we go, if we can."

The tale would be a pretty big pill to swallow for most folks, so the possibility of picking up extra hunters along the way was slim. Only Sam's reputation and a firsthand witness had floated his efforts through Turley. "The Turleys all have mounts, as will any hunter joining us, I suspect. I've got my golems. There aren't a whole lot of mounts to be had around, but we can swing by the stables to see if there are any for sale. If nothing comes cheap, you and I will have to ride double again."

Just then, a trio of men entered the tavern, and made a beeline for Sam's table. "Edison," he said, pausing his plotting for introductions. "These are three of the Turleys. Tommen," He gestured to the mustachioed ginger fellow. "Emmers," The next to join them was a dark-haired man, taller and broader than his brother. "And Sam." Sam Turley was the tallest of the three introduced, and looked the youngest despite it. He too had dark hair, and a nose that could have doubled as a scythe.

"Gentlemen, -and I use that term loosely- this is our witness, Edison. Sit. Eat."

The three nodded their greetings, and offered their hands for shaking respectively.

"When we get to Vash, and see what there is to see, I will react accordingly. I sincerely doubt that men of even our talents can do a great deal against an army the size of which you described, so I will likely send a number of the extra hunters to Westlan to gather what I can only hope to be a sizeable force of conscripts. Meanwhile, at the risk of borrowing overused and admirably ironic cliches, the Turleys and I will be raising a little hell as a strikeforce to disrupt the army's plans should it look as if it is preparing to act."
 
Edison hummed at the numbers, a little more than his band of seven, but now they would be aware of the dangers hidden in the forest and would be able to act accordingly. Still, the thought of returning to that place now did not sit well in his chest, no matter how many hunters they may pull into their merry band. "Best not to strip the guards regardless, Vash was in full strength when whatever happened.. happened." Edison wrinkled his nose, "though I can't say what their intentions are to the surrounding areas, or when they intend to.. expand." He waved his hand a little, and fell silent when a young woman came with his breakfast. He cast her a charming smile and a thanks to boot, and quickly dug into his meal without any thought to manners.

Sam spoke of the horses and the likelyhood that he would be playing ride-along once more. He remembered the trip up and grunted, at least he would be able to sit up on his own this time.

He glanced up from tearing his way through his breakfast when Sam switched to introductions. Edison looked up to the three men now at their table. Edison got himself to his feet and shook their hands - the proper, polite thing to do, and he grinned when Sam introduced him as the witness. It must have been difficult indeed to convince these men of the trouble brewing, but maybe the horns and the hair would help convince them.

Edison immediately returned to the meal, his attention lingering over Samuel and his thoughts on what will happen in the coming days. Most of the communities around here were not large, and tended to stick to themselves aside from the trades. A decent sized city was at least a two week travel away, and who knew what would happen to the fortress in the time it took to gather an army from them.

Not to mention how difficult it was to evacuate a town. There were all sorts of other creepy crawlies just waiting to pick off the hapless villager outside the safety of the walls.

Edison made a thoughtful hum at that, "The fortress will be nearly impossible to seige." He pointed out, as much as he disliked the idea of /plotting/ against that place. "The magic there is corrupt and vile, you can storm inside but remaining there for more than a day can cause irreversible damage. There is a source, a well of power that sits somewhere inside that place. If it is destroyed, then perhaps there is a chance for the fortress to fall, but where it is, and if it is possible to actually get close to it, I can't say for certain." He put on a sour face, then turned his attention to finishing off his eggs because that wasn't his problem to fix.
 
"Walls are a poor bar to a golemancer." Sam said idly. He didn't bother to get up to greet his compatriots. They were familiar enough that they forewent formalities most of the time. "I will find the wellspring of magic, and I will dismantle it if I am able. Failing that, I'll mark it's location for future reference." He turned his eyes up from his rapidly diminishing plate of food, to Tommen. "Should the army be the size he makes it out to be, I'd like you to focus on eliminating any magi that you can get away with taking out unseen."

He paused for a mouthfull of eggs, but spoke around it. "You don't gather an army because you want to sit in a castle all on your lonesome. Especially if you're an evil demon. Armies are expensive, and difficult to manage. That includes armies of the undead. A mixed army like the one you described should be doubly difficult to handle, although I can't hazard any guesses as to the effects on this magical spring on an army's morale."

He scarfed down the last of his sausage, and spoke around a mouthfull of pork and beef. "Now if the army starts to mobilize, we'll have to start making serious trouble. Our targets should be any handlers of the undead. Eliminate enough of them, and those zombies could cease functioning, or lay into anything at hand. If they have any mounts, those should be targets as well. Any of the corrupted humans traveling with the army will likely still need to eat and drink. That means poisoning wells and burning crops in the path of their advance. It's going to be rough with so few of us, but we can manage."

Tommen leaned in, his elbows on the table. He stroked his mustache. "You really think there's an army out there, Sam? You're takin' this awfully serious for the word of a stranger. A horned stranger, no less. No offense." Added the ginger hunter, apologetically.

"It feels right." Explained Samuel.

"Another one of your gut instincts?" Asked Sam Turley.

"Mhmm." Was all the response the young hunter was going to get.
 
Edison pushed away the plate when he finished it, his attention focused now on Samuel's plan for the amassing army in the north. He had thought about this, Edison realized, and while it sounded good for an initial plan, he suspected it would have to change when they finally laid eyes upon the corrupt fortress and tried to invade with the very air sinking in like molasses.

But he kept such thoughts to himself for now. They still had a five days ride before they reached Vash and then another day to to the depths of the forest. Until then Edison would have to survive the hunters that did not know him and likely did not trust him.

Edison's eyes snapped to the man - Tommen - as he voiced the distrust they all most feel, and Edison raised his head in defiance, "You should do well to trust my words, or else you will end up with much worse than I" He gave the man a hard look before his attention returned to Sam. He, at least, trusted his words enough to spare his life and investigate himself - though Edison did wish that he was trusted enough not to have to travel back to Vash with this lot.

Towards the end of breakfast, three new hunters came to join the table, and introductions were made again with Edison. Jack, Nigel, and Gregson settled down with the others to discussed the prep they had made for their extended trip out of town. Edison lost interest in this part and separated from the group to return the innkeeper his key and asking for some spare sausage for the trip. That done, he stepped outside the inn to settle on the porch and breath a bit of fresh air while he waited for Samuel.
 
Samuel wasn't overly concerned with the Turleys' distrust of Edison. They were slow to trust, but they were professionals. If he put himself behind Edison, they weren't going to cause him any serious trouble. When the last of the Turleys arrived, Samuel greeted them with a nod, and briefed them on the plan thus far.

His gaze tracked Edison as the man rose and moved off. The rest of the party turned talk to more informal speak, and Sam instructed them on the time to meet at the north gate. He excused himself from the table before the rest, and made his way to the front door, after settling his hat on his head, and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He found Edison just outside.

"Don't mind the Turleys. They're not bad folks, just slow to trust." He explained. "Come, we've got some time before we have to go, but we can't dawdle. The stables, first."

As it turned out, the stables didn't have any horses for sale at all, let alone for a reasonable price. From there, Sam led them back to Ulen's to pick up and equip his hardened leathers, and give his old friend a hearty hug before departing once again.

Upon arriving at the provisions store, he let Edison take the lead, happy to peruse the wares idly while his companion picked up what he needed.
 
Edison tilted his head towards the other when he made an appearance. His words brought a little comfort, but all hunters were the same. Freelancers were a bit more laid back - and all of them hatefully distrustful and money-grubbing to boot. He passed the man a quick smile and pushed off from the building's side to follow after the man, "Your hat is ridiculous." He said, instead of anything about the Turleys, "Would look far better on me." He sniffed. Damn his horns.

They came to the stables first, but it seemed that they weren't selling any of them despite the fact that plenty of their stalls were full. One would think that the coming winter would interest people in selling an extra mouth to feed, but it seemed they had been lacking all year, after the foal count came in low.

So, it was going to be another ride along then. Not so bad, now that he had his arms and legs again. Sam was adept in his control, and his golem had run smooth and quick. The trip to Ulen was quick, and Edison waited by the door as Sam gathered his things and said his goodbyes. The provision store took a bit longer, as Edison found everything he could need, and proper bags to carry them in.

Everything to tend to his swords, to mend clothes, to cook, and the odds and ends that his magic couldn't do. He packed everything up, and set everything on his belt, or his back, and then he returned to Samuel, patting his bags, "Well, you've done everything I've asked of you. I guess I must fullfill my obligation. Unless you've changed your mind, of course." He winked.
 
"You wish you could pull this hat off like I do." Sam mused good-naturedly. Nobody ever claimed he was humble.

At the general store, Sam picked up an extra case of ammunition, bringing his munitions count up to eighty rounds in total. He was traveling heavier than he liked to, but he didn't want to have to resupply too quickly if things were as bad as Edison made them out to be. He also picked up some jerked meat, some cheese, and some hard tack. It wouldn't be pleasant for eating, but it would last, and he could supplement it on the way. He also picked up a small sack of fresh apples for flavor, and squared it all with the proprietor before turning back to Edison.

"I'm incredibly stubborn, I'm afraid. Of course, you're welcome to head your own way now if you'd like. You'd have to make a parting donation to the war effort of weaponry, clothing, armor, and provisions mind, but you're welcome to go all the same." Sam winked right back.

He turned toward the door, hefting his own pack. "You're a magi, I know, but I don't know what you do. What are your abilities, if you don't mind my asking?"
 
Sam's words coaxed a grin from Edison and he quirked an eyebrow, "Thats quite a donation, too bad I'm a greedy bastard." He sighed dramatically, mirth filled his gaze as his hand brushing through the fuzz at the top of his head.

Sam turned to leave and Edison followed behind, leaving the overstuffed store and presumably heading towards the north gate.

Edison arched his arms over his head and folded his hands behind his head. He didn't get as many stares as the day before, which was a relief, and for the moment he didn't feel threatened or the need to watch his own back. That might change when they started out with the six Turley men who only went along with this because Sam did.

He hummed thoughtfully at the question. Good one, since they were going to be traveling together. Good to know what everyone was capable of. "What sort of magic can I do? I can do a bit of all the elements. Wind I'm best at, but I shine with.. erm.. whats it called? Kin... Kinetomancy, they call it, right? Force magic. I can show you when we're a bit aways from town." He turned his head towards the man, "Those guys, they believed you because you had a 'gut instinct'. What does that mean, exactly?"
 
"It's a bit tough to explain." Admitted the straightfaced hunter. "I don't know whether or not it has to do with magic, but I have this sort of intuition when it comes to some situations. A twisting in my gut whenever things are get dangerous, a flutter when I think someone's building up to tell a big lie. That kind of thing. It doesn't happen all the time, but when it does, I've found that it pays off to pay attention to it. It's saved my skin a time or two." He rolled a shoulder in a shrug. "Maybe I'm just lucky."

As they passed the inn they'd stayed in the night before, a pool of what appeared to be gravel swept up to form into the same large, quadrupedal beast that they'd ridden into town on. It was bad practice to abandon resources, or at least Sam thought so. In one smooth motion, he slid onto it's back, sinking his hands into it's shoulders.

"It's the reason I started taking jobs on my own. Trying to wrangle folks who don't believe me when I say something's gone wrong is too stressful by half, and I've had enough of putting up with fools. I still take jobs with the Turleys now and again. They believe me." He glanced back to Edison. "Which is obvious, I suppose. How did you get into the business?"

The gates were quickly approaching, as small as the town was.
 
"mmh.. I knew a guy like you once," Edison said thoughtfully, when Sam tried to explain what, exactly, that feeling meant to him, "He was a crotchety old bastard, but he had this thing where he just knew, every time the weather was going to turn. Rain, drought, snow, anything. He'd come in to the inn every night for a pint and the whole town got their weather reports from him.

"He hated the attention, and couldn't explain how he knew. Just said.. 'I can feel it in my bones'." He smiled fondly at the memory as his focus returned back to the present, and the stones now building up once more into the large golem.

It was a massive thing, now that Edison got the chance for a proper look. When it started walking, Edison walked beside it, caught up for the moment in seeing how the stone flowed through the steps. His gaze tilted up briefly to Sam when he questioned him about his profession.

"The business of freelancing, you mean?" Edison ensured, because he certainly wasn't calling himself a 'hunter', "I can't exactly say what it was, exactly. A bunch of little things over time. It fit. More than anything else I've tried. I've been on my own for a while, and settling down in one place made my skin crawl." His attention turned towards the gate when it came within his vision range, "That the place?"
 
Sam grunted in an acknowledgement at Edison's explanation. His question shortly thereafter brought the hunter's eyes up. "Yup." He confirmed, shifting on the back of his golem. A hand slipped out of the thing's back as easily as it had gone in, and the hunter tipped his hat back to look around for the Turleys. Five of them were standing near the gate, each with a mount in tow.

Sam urged his golem towards them. It was wider by a third than any of the horses, and near of a height with them. His eyes scanned their faces. "Where's Sammy?" He asked. Tommen rolled his eyes, and made a dismissive motion with one hand.

"His guts are in a twist. He'll catch up to us by tomorrow, or he'll head on up to Westlan and join us when we split up."

Sam nodded his head briskly. "Mount up then. We'll hit the road. I'd like to reach the waystation by nightfall." Waystations were essential to travelers that needed to travel between holdings, and they were even occasionally guarded by the various hunters and freelancers for a stretch between missions.
 
Edison hummed jealously at the horses of the five men. Of course, they'd likely had their horses for years. His attention turning to each individual, gauging or guessing what they specialized in. As long as they knew what they were doing, and kept their mouth shut when they needed to, Edison wasn't going to have a problem then.

Hopefully they wouldn't have a problem with him either.

He gave them all one last glance before he turned to the golem, clicking his tongue at it for a moment before he hauled himself up with catches in the stone. He settled behind Sam this time and felt a bit higher on the horse this time around.

It took no time afterwards for them to pick up and step out of the village wall, the iron gate rose, and then fell again with them on the other side. Edison always felt a rush n moments like this. The beginning of a job, or a mission. Shame this was such a doomed one.

Edison let the Turley boys talk - they seemed to have plenty to say between them, and instead he turned his focus to his surroundings, mostly cropfields, at the moment, all empty after the harvest. Dull. He turned his attention then to the golem under him, and watched as the thing walked - flowed - across the ground, "Do you control the individual movements or the general actions of the creature? Does it assume locomotion based on the appendages given? Have you attempted to create golems with flawed anatomy to see how they would function?"
 
When they were clear of the town, Sam leaned forward so as not to bash his partner when he unlimbered his rifle. He checked the chamber for a round, and let his legs sink into his mount enough to allow him a steady shooting position. He was just as happy to let the Turleys talk among themselves as he was to join them, and he found a particular sense of peace while riding his golem.

Edison's questions caught his ear, and he turned his head to better hear the fellow as they rode.

"It's difficult to explain," He said. It seemed as if Sammuel didn't do a whole lot of explaining when it came to his abilities. Even so, he went on to the best of his abilities.

"I exert will on and object, and it changes. Once it changes, it gains a measure of autonomous action that is compelled to follow my will. I wouldn't say they gain sentience, but my golems gain a fraction of my reasoning. I've seen them select between targets, and re-prioritize mid-mission. It might have something to do with my gut feelings. It requires a measure of will to keep them active and moving, and it gets more difficult the more golems there are. It's why I tend to prefer one large golem to a pack of smaller ones, although there are times that I summon a pack of smaller ones just to be sure. Especially if I have hard materials to work with, like tombstones."

"As to their anatomy, I build them for function. I could build them differently, but it reduces their functionality considerably. For example, I could remove one of this one's hind legs, and stick it upfront, but that would only result in a less efficient ride. The easiest way for me to get them to move the way I need them to is to study animals, and build their limbs and joints similarly."

"When I'm riding like this however, I allow the golem to adjust the length, breadth, and width of it's limbs to adjust for terrain. It makes for a much smoother ride, but it's less likely to keep me in the saddle in a fight. The legs get narrow and weak when lengthening to meet the ground. It keeps us stable, though. Makes shooting from mount easier, too."
 
Edison tilted his head up and watched Sam settle with his rifle, ready to take aim and fire if anything chose to jump out at them. They were hardly at risk just yet, the forest had been pushed back quite a ways and even now Edison could sense the presence of sentry men walkng the road. He wondered if Sam expected something to come from the forest, and then he wondered how far he could should with the rifle, he would have to get the man to show him, when they found a place for the night.

"I've found that I can put a little of my will into smaller things, such as dolls, but they have very little autonomy, and tend to be quite stupid in their stumblings about the world." He chewed on his lower lip as he considered the man's words. He was indeed adept in this magic, just as Edison was adept in other things, but how good were his golems? "And what if I were to chop off this ones leg? Would it sacrifice girth to regrow its leg? At what point would it adjust and perhaps reform to fewer legs, or would it continue to attempt to keep its shape and sacrifice its size?"

He made a humming, thoughtful noise, "I would like to test some theories. You are the first Golemancer I've met in some years, you see, so if you would allow me? Perhaps when we find rest for the night, you did request that I show you what I'm capable of."
 
"Well I suppose it all depends on what I've made the golem out of. If I pick up some good stone, like I did here, it's going to be next to impossible to break through the leg with a sword. You might be able to manage it with a maul, or some sort of great bludgeon, but if the golem anticipates it, it might just adapt. Eart too, is pretty difficult to cut through. People overestimate the ability of swords driven by the strength of an arm to penetrate various materials. An ax would do you well against a golem. Of course, dismantling a golem won't do you any good if the magus who formed it is still able."

Samuel shifted his rifle in his arms, checking the breach once again, just to be sure. "If I'm paying close enough attention, and one of my golems loses a limb, I'll animate the limb independently, using the resources for a smaller golem. The rest of the first golem might reduce it's size and maintain it's shape scaled down, if it's been having success, or it might switch forms entirely."

He twisted in his saddle to check their backtrail. The city gates were still in sight, and nobody was on the road behind them. He turned back to the front-facing position. "We can run some experiments if you'd like, as long as they don't keep the rest of the camp up. And as long as they don't keep us up too long. I don't like being any shorter on sleep than I need to be on missions."
 
"Of course it will be efficient against swords, or any physical weapon, for that matter." Edison curled his hand into a fist and gave the stone by his thigh a few firm knocks, "But physical isn't all that is out there." He made a considering him as the man explained the mechanics of his magical beasts.

His head lift when the man shifted around to check their behind. He gave him a quick grin. "I'd like to, how large can your golems become? Have you ever faced off with a giant?" He leaned back on the best, feeling confident enough of its smooth gate to bring his legs up to cross in front of him, his head turned, as if he were observing the surrounding farmland, but really there was no need. There was a bubble of vision around him, no matter where his head pointed. "I did once. Ugly buggers, and violent to boot."
 
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