"No… not the ironside driller, the other one, the other one!" The Trapsmith booming voice echoed throughout the room. Aside from startling a few Eagle Owl mice perched on the Trapsmith's hut, the reluctant hunters conscripted into helping him continued with their work.

"It's an easy job they said, 'Oh it'll be just like a stroll through the woods' they said." The heavyset hunter muttered under his breath as he swapped the heavy iron drill for another. Grunting with effort, the hunter restarted his journey to the workbench. "They both look the same anyway, like he could tell the difference…" The hunter grumbled to himself.

"Ironside Driller. Crude material, perhaps a lower quality brother?" Came the fast reply from behind. A stark contrast to the previous, the hunter followed behind with a notebook and quill in his hands.

"Your brother Abel is right, Cain. What you hold in your hands is the refined product of my life's work, so don't. Drop. It." The Trapsmith enunciated. "As you can see from the lack of impurities staining the metal, this drill was fashioned from the grand metal-smith of Digby. Although yours truly did fashion the blueprints for them to follow…" The Trapsmith completed his line with a gesture to himself, and started selecting tools from a box.

"It's a pity that this will be the only one-of-a-kind mechanical golem to be ever created. 'Too big to fit' them eggheads in the castle said, although they did look interested when I said I could shrink it down." After securing the drill to the rest of the golem, the Trapsmith swabbed his face with a rag, the remnants of what seemed to have been once a beautiful tapestry but now a dirty piece of cloth. How the mighty have fallen, Cain thought as he stretched his tired muscles from the work.

"All right… now for the words of Command…" Stretching himself, the Trapsmith hesitated for a moment. "Um, you fellas might wanna... back up a little for this." Seeing the uncertainty show on his face, the brothers quickly followed suit; the look was alien compared to how he behaved for the past few weeks they've been here. Surely everything was going to be alright?

"Ahm…" Clearing his throat, the Trapsmith began the ceremony. "Incipeio…Inceptus… Finito!" Right on cue, the magic sigils carved throughout the body of the golem started to glow, each providing a sense of purpose to the golem.

"Good start. Starting sequence shaky. Imperfect etching by the mages?" Able spoke while writing his observations. Some of the carved sections had begun to spark from residue magic. "That's what happens when you employ second-rate wood-carvers." The Trapsmith shrugged. "Can't afford the best, even with the King's backing. Hate those lazy little…" The Trapsmith ended his sentence with silence, his eyes glued to the golem's movements.

When the golem finally stopped, Cain let out a whistle. "Mages were right; this is… big." His words an understatement to the size of it.