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Created shortly before the great purge, Craft was, as much as any War golem ever was, made for battle. Strong, durable, and as agile as frankly matters with his adamantine form. However, he never saw a single battle. His position attacked before he could be activated, it wouldn't be until some artificer uncovered his intact and ready for activation body that he would spring to life, and it would be years later, after the artificer met with an accident involving a malfunctioning Creation Forge, a particularly spiky construct, and a mistranslated warning sign, that Craft began to operate as an individual, even if sentience might have taken a while after that. Self preservation turned to awareness turned to sentience.

It was during this time of wandering that Craft saw battle, never anything particularly elaborate, a bandit here, a small skirmish there, fighting merely for his own survival. He found himself having to upkeep his own equipment and form, and, as his skill grew, he found himself taking a pride in the craftsmanship, and gave himself a name. As time continued, moving from settlement to settlement, he came to learn of religion, but found little draw, simply declaring himself a follower of the god of the forge whenever he deemed it important to 'pick a side' as it were.

It was on his way to Alexandros that he came across a young, orphaned pup. There was a curiosity there, and, from the dog's end, a rather unconditional sort of affection, something new for the generally taciturn construct. It was an almost symbiotic relationship. The construct's martial prowess helped to win the dog food, and the dog gave the construct some much needed practice understanding those of flesh and blood, their needs, wants, and expressions.

It was after the dog had grown to some age that Craft was captured by Bludgunni forces, and forced into slavery. Before long, he was rescued by Alexandrian irregulars operating within the city. Wishing to prevent anyone else's will from being forcefully subjugated to another's, Craft joined the insurgents, finding success and companions, as well as some talent for artifice, an outgrowing of his craftsman nature. Towards the very end of the fighting, Craft was injured, severely. Though he survived, and repaired himself to functional shape, his adamantine plating was marred beyond his immediate ability to repair. Something of a perfectionist, he stripped the plating from his form, storing it, rigging his body to accept the attachment of other armors, the first of which he has just finished, having taken some of his old plating and crafted it into a new weapon for himself.