Kill the others who betrayed Delora.

Terran began slinging his form across massive distances with the mighty clay tendrils which extended from his form, and as he was flying through the air, above the medieval kingdom, he made his way to his destination.

After an hour of maneuvering through the nearly decrepit buildings of the kingdom, he’d reached the castle, and as he expanded his form throughout the entire structure, he began tearing chunks of stone from the walls, crumbling them through the clay, adding them to his mass, gaining thousands of pounds as he tore the castle from its foundations.

And all the while, he was severing heads from bodies, as the expanded mass of Terran’s form allowed him to reach further and further, as he sent tendrils every direction he could comprehend, snaking their ways through every inch of the building, before breaking the necks of those who’d crossed Delora…

Which was practically everyone, as he crumbled the castle atop the hundreds of guilty souls, claiming their lives, then claiming their previous home as fodder for his form, monstrous as it was becoming.

And to Terran’s shock. Yes, shock, Terran found himself capable of still inducing a frozen state though every inch of his form, and it didn’t even constrict his own movement, so, win win.

After nearly an hour of pure destruction, a near ten ton golem smashed forth from the ground, as he began trailing through the cityscape, and branching out for miles.

But what did that mean for Terran? Delora wouldn’t want for him to destroy a kingdom, but the populace overall was already suffering, mainly from the corrupt mitts he’d already slain.

But, how could Terran help? He was only a mere golem… At least, that’s what he thought of himself, but obviously, he wasn’t merely a simple construct. He was truly immense.

And in the spirit of kindness, in the spirit of all that Delora embodied, Terran used 98% of his gathered form to alter the shabby cityscape he’d crossed over earlier, making the miserable homes of the peasantry into nearly impenetrable clay formed homes, thousands of spacious, although rough hewn, abodes for the downtrodden citizenry.

And, while Terran’s mind was caught up in the possible aftermath for said citizenry, how would they handle the complete overthrowing of their monarchy?

“Well… That’s not my problem.” An immensely shrunken Terran was walking away from the reformed kingdom, only six and a half feet tall, as he was walking with unimpeded steps towards an undisclosed direction, his only goal being to make a home for him.

…

A week into walking from the kingdom, Terran reached a large lake, and as he reached a hand into it, the hand slowly extended into a liquid slip, as it slowly traveled through the waters, finding sunken clay deposits buried all throughout, gaining over a hundred pounds of clay during the process, reaching nearly eight feet tall, and far bulkier, though its form would need to dry somewhat.

So, as Terran was baking on the beachish front of the large , his immense clay formed stretched over the hot sand, over a three hundred square meters of clay when fully expanded, far overlapping the available sand.

But, as he was reforming his goliath body, he heard a crunching of leaves behind him, as he turned around, just to see nothing.

“Who’s out there!?” Terran shouted out, in an oddly guttural tone, as he stretched an arm out, and formed a monstrous hammer within his hand. “Reveal yourself, or face the consequences!”

“How will you punish me, dear traveler? You don’t even know where I am…” As a feminine voice spoke out, the origin shifted in origin many times, before returning to the center of the trees.

Terran was stumped, for all of five seconds, before remembering his teachings, “My creator, wonderful as she was, taught me many things during the… In the short time we were together. And one avenue of those specific teachings, was what creatures thrived in a wooded environment.

“While Catfolk are quite skilled in evasive techniques and stealth, that doesn’t really suit this situation… Some magic caster, then? No, this isn’t some mere spell… So, a Dryad.” The supposedly emotionless golem was somehow sending a bloodthirsty aura from himself, as a tendril which he’d moved earlier ripped a tree from its roots, and just dangling in the sky, drawing a pained scream from the hidden figure.

“Please stop, I… I’ll come out, but please… Don’t do that again, please.” As she was pleading to him, quite a beautiful Dryad emerged from the leaves, “Sir… What do you need, sir?”

“Nothing much… I don’t have many needs. My name is Terran. I am a construct, formed by the late Archmage Delora Vanderin.” As the golem spoke, even though the factories for crying didn’t exist in his form, he nearly shed a tear, as he continued, “She was betrayed by her trusted council, only two weeks after she created me… It was awful.”