Armadon

It moves through its range like slow weather, and where it decides to dig, the earth simply has to accept the outcome; a single Armadon can undermine a slope in a season. It has almost no natural predators, which has left it placid to a fault, ambling in daylight where its ancestors skulked. Its shell hosts a whole small ecology of lichens and burrowing mites, so that an old Armadon carries a garden on its back, and it will stand for long minutes letting smaller Coromon pick the growth clean, the nearest thing this armored recluse has to friendship.