Golem

Because soil forms the bulk of any golem, its body takes on a lead-black color. No two look alike; they come in every size and shape, the little ones light enough to float and the big ones built for raw strength. Some can even remold themselves into a passable human shape to blend in, though the disguise is skin-deep, since their stilted speech and movements give the ruse away.

A golem carries only a thin sliver of intelligence, enough to make sense of simple commands spoken aloud. Whatever animates it must come from a soul: most draw on their own, though Jack Crowley powered his through a Philosopher's Stone in Lebis. Souls can also be forced into a golem from outside, a cruel arrangement, because the unstable clay body rots the mind toward madness and warps the flesh before it finally slumps back into lifeless mud.

The larger golems whirl their bodies fast enough to kick up local whirlwinds that fling anyone nearby a long way back. Certain ones split off smaller copies from their own mass, the offspring scaling to the parent's bulk, and a rare few can fire beams of light like lasers. In the hands of a true master, the craft even stretches to resurrection: a dead person's soul may be dragged back and lodged in a golem, wearing their old face for a while until the body rots as any soul-bound golem does. Elma, revived more than once by her husband Crowley, is the lone known case, and each return left her twisted in body and splintered in mind.