An Alcoholic And A Strict Doctor, A Relationship That Contains More Arguments Than Agreements. Despite

An alcoholic and a strict doctor, a relationship that contains more arguments than agreements. Despite their mutual annoyance for each other, Jeter is always willing to spend money to bail Henderson out of jail. A blessing and a curse, as what comes afterwards is a long and stern talking to from the automaton. These talks can last mere minutes, or hours, depending on how Henderson behaves.

~ "Spare me the lecture." Henderson grunted, bringing a hand up to his temple. Maybe it was the extreme hangover, or the multiple wounds on the back of his head. Either way, he couldn't think straight.

Jeter sighed at the other's tone, steam escaping from the vents in his cheeks. He kept his hands folded, tapping the right index finger against the left knuckle. A small tick, but Henderson immediately picked up on it and continued.

"If you're waiting for an explanation, I ain't got one. Last night s'all one fogged up blur." The man stated in annoyance, receiving no response from the automaton sitting across the table. "All I know is, that bastard swung first. I was defendin' myself, but... I admit, I may have gone overboard."

"No surprise there." The doctor replied after a moment of thought. "I suppose I should put you under a more strict ruleset, I prefer my students to be in one piece while under my care." ~

Some basic notes about the first "human" automaton

District was the first ever automaton to gain consciousness and form a personality, over a millennium ago. Before them, automatons were built only for physical labour or entertainment, never for companionship. Everything changed the day District started to show signs of “humanity”. They had put down their own items in order to help another automaton with a heavy load. This may have been seen as a small gesture, but it was a surprisingly big step in automata development.

As the years went on, a group of scientists had the idea to try and reproduce District’s way of thinking, wanting to create conscious automata. After years of experimentation, they were able to “upgrade” The base programming of newly forged automata. This first set was originally titled the “A-01” or “ancestors”. These first 11 successful conscious automata would later become the Circle, a highly efficient group who oversee the wellbeing of Brenning.

As the years passed, District’s body became nearly unusable due to the hundreds of experiments they endured. In a last ditch effort to keep the automaton alive, they built a large “life support” type machine around them. This later became the Tower that sits in the heart of the city, and appears to be a large clock tower on the outside. Their original body was also scrapped, and now District is a massive being who is able to store and reuse any information and input they receive.

The inside of this clock tower is full of pipes and gears, and can be considered a living building of sorts. District themself is now rather large, built into one of the rooms of the tower. They are constructed using multiple human skeletons, which are constantly replaced and tended to. Despite their age, they always look relatively new. Alongside a multitude of skeletons, District also possesses a multitude of voices. There is no rhyme or reason to which voice they may use for any occasion, as the voices may be used once per sentence, or even overlapping each other when they speak.

District is seen as a god to most automata, as everyone seems to know their name, but are unable to prove/disprove their existence. Only the Circle, and a select few mechanic automata have ever met or spoken to District directly. To the Circle, District is seen as a parent, or as a boss. They receive and follow orders, no matter how mundane they may seem. District only wants the city to prosper and grow, and will use any means available to keep things in order.

The city functions through the eleven members of the Circle, who answer directly to District. For example, any and all chief constables are in communication with an agent of the Tower, who will bring those reports to Pierre. Pierre, regarding the information, will decide whether or not the case is large enough to get the Tower involved. If not, the agent will then return the letters to the chief constables. If Pierre deems the case an issue, he will then converse with District. Every major decision is made by them and their word is final. If District deems the issue a threat to the city’s overall wellbeing, they will get Pierre involved. If not, they will simply deploy a small set of Watchers to handle whatever the problem is.

Once the number of Circle members dwindled, District had to upload some of their own memories and traits into each one. Each member now had more than one aspect to keep track of, and were properly upgraded to do their tasks. District is very careful with their "children", and will constantly make sure they are fully functional and not in danger of breaking or giving way.

District has the ability to manually reset any automaton that they deem appropriate. Most automata with a criminal record will be forced to get their lives reset and rebuilt from scratch, all memories are then passed over to District for storage and later examination.

Just like the ability to cut off one's life, District can also resurrect fallen automata. This is mainly used to aid interrogations or to bring a victim back from the dead. (Of course with no memory of how they died.)

I've mentioned Zala a few times in my other OC posts, so why not introduce him?

There has always been something a little... off about Zala, something that unsettled those who met him. Maybe it was his curiosity, or the way he'd hold himself as if he was constantly on edge. No one was sure, but people tended to stay away from him, even at a young age. Not that he minded of course, Zala was never one for social interactions.

He has found solace within his cousin Emalia, who shares his interest in strange creatures. Zala is rather talkative when he wants to be, to the point where he's constantly stammering and cutting himself off in order to get a thought out before it dissapears. Usually though, he finds it extremely difficult to hold a conversation. He's awkward and nervous, preferring to speak with family over anyone else.

Fascinated by life, death, and everything in between, Zala is a man of science. He loves to pick things apart just to figure out how they work, and to have the fun of putting them back together again. As a kid he used to dissect insects and small animals, just to see how they looked from the inside. Everything he saw would be sketched and noted, and he still keeps those books today.

Along with books and drawings, Zala has an extensive collection of taxidermy animals in his house. From strange fish to conjoined twin bears, he has them all. Anything odd is captured and brought to him by other scientists, whom he shares his studies with on occassion. One fun thing, Zala does indeed have a selection of taxidermy humans, and is rather pleased with how clean they came out.

Evolution, mutations, disabilities both physical and mental, he was interested in it all. The brain, the human consciousness, how does it work? How do people learn and adapt while keeping who they are intact? Zala loves to ask questions, every tiny little detail being questioned and prodded until something akin to an answer can be found. He can't leave anything unanswered, not even the most mundane questions. He needs to know everything.

His intelligence comes at a price, however. Zala focuses too much on the outside world and it's state, and completely ignores himself. He has kept himself awake long enough to become a somniphobiac (The fear of sleeping/falling asleep), and is incapable of getting any proper rest. Food and hygiene come last to him, always, as his time is better spent in his lab.

Thankfully, he has a pair of automaton that also live within his house, who constantly watch over him. Darla (an automaton I have yet to design) keeps him decently clean, and makes sure he eats enough to keep him alive. Zala is ever thankful, excited to be in good enough health to continue his work.

Headcanon voice/actor: David Micheal Bennett

Every story must have a catalyst, something that launches the main plot into action. In Crimson Stained Copper, the catalyst takes the form of a strange man. Who is he? Where did he come from? What is up with his body? Nobody knows, but there are people searching for answers. Since everything about him is a mystery for now, I will be referring to him as "Catalyst".

He should be dead. At least, that's what Zala said after giving the man a quick look over. Pale skin that was cold to the touch, eyes that didn't react to light, and skin that was either too loose or too tight. The man barely even had a heart beat. For all Zala knew, he was studying a walking corpse.

Catalyst can't remember anything before waking up in a dark alleyway. His thoughts are cloudy, fogged memories that he can't understand. He hears voices, sees blurry faces but nothing fits together. This has lead to his senses to constantly be on high alert, and he has become extremely paranoid. He never sits still, eyes darting around as if searching for something to ground him.

Only politeness comes from Catalyst, no matter who he is speaking to. There is also a layer of fear in his tone, since he has no clue who to trust and who to avoid. His words come quickly, trying to minimize the amount of time he has to spend with people by speeding up the conversation. He stammers, and repeats himself, but that is the least of his worries.

Headcanon voice/actor: TBD

Patience, The Towers "Gentle Giant"

The newly forged automata of Brenning need a teacher, someone to teach them how to become part of society. Everything from etiquette to stocks are placed in multiple courses over the first decade of the new-forged lives. Every class, every individual lesson is taught by one single person. This is a daunting task to most, dealing with the responsibility of making sure every automaton turns out perfect.

This is where Patience comes in. An automaton who houses multiple streams of thought, able to organize and keep track of everything the new-forged would ever need. Patience is an old and wise being, their knowledge being collected over centuries of life. They can answer any question and solve any puzzle with ease, no matter the subject or complexity. Because of this, Patience in in charge of everything pertaining to schooling and the preservation of information/culture.

But, every dime must have a second face. A side that can be called upon and seen if needed, as long as the flip is justified.

Patience stands at 13 feet tall when their body is relaxed, and is indeed a force to be reckoned with. Their mind is sharp and dangerous when called upon by District, carrying out whatever task is needed. Executioner, The Reaper's Scythe, Death's Vulture. Names whispered amongst those who handle any mess left over from Patience's duties.

What exactly does Patience do? No one is certain, but the automaton can be seen standing vigilantly next to District when not happily teaching the new-forged how to fit in. Their dime is usually on its head, showing a cheery and almost maternal side. But if the coin were to flip over to tails, no one wants to be in their way.

An attempt at writing

Here is a practice segment of my story. I had a good time writing this, so I may just end up writing more passages in the future. I might do one regarding Pierre, because he may or may not be my favorite character.

~“Mechanical hooves tore up the earth as it trotted through the dense forest, easily traversing uneven terrain. Steam shot out from its nostrils into the cool air, head bobbing slightly with each step. On its back sat a sturdy harness, stitched with gold and laced with metal. Clamps around the horse's chest kept the harness in place, barely shifting during the trip. It was pulling an expensive carriage, one that would rarely be seen outside of Brenning’s richer residences. Its polished wood was trimmed with golden filigree, forming waves of leaves and flowers that stood out from the darkened body. It was sturdy and well crafted, creating a rather smooth ride for its passengers.

A sharply dressed automaton sat in the carriage's driver seat, back straight and leather reins in hand. Their eyes remained forward, focused on the road ahead. Even as they turned their head to speak, bright eyes never drifted from the path. 

"Dr. Nyland, sir." They started, pausing for a second as the carriage passed over a rough patch, jostling slightly. "We should be arriving within the hour, apologies for the long trip. Old Mara is doing her best, but this terrain isn't as friendly as the city streets." The driver glanced back at the passengers before sitting back up, gently shaking the reins in their hand. The horse snorted and picked up it’s pace a little, gears clicking with each step.

Inside the carriage, the doctor glanced up from his book to look out the window. Jeter’s eyes were the only source of light, which were staring back through his reflection.

“No need to apologize, we are in no rush.” He replied, slowly looking back down at his book. Emalia slept soundly at his side, leaning against him as soft breaths escaped her. She was undisturbed by the rocking of the cart, or by the loud snoring coming from the third passenger. Jeter took a deep artificial breath as he tried to focus on the words in front of him, shutting out all sounds once more. 

Henderson insisted on coming along, despite previously complaining about the potential company. “Only going for the dognose, nothin’ more.” The man had stated as the three headed towards the city earlier that day, and it was the truth. He didn’t do much other than down as many glasses of wine he could get his hands on, using the party as an opportunity to get drunk before being forced to go sober for another few weeks. Near the end of the event, Henderson had gotten into an argument with another one of the guests, which later became physical.

The other patrons at the event had become nervous once the shouting started, and Jeter felt his patience immediately snap. He wasted no time in weaving through the humans and automata, finding his student with a fistful of another man's suit. Before any punches could land, the doctor pulled Henderson away and told a nearby butler to collect Emalia.

Everything had calmed down by the time the horse passed through the city’s gated entrance, as if the forest created a sense of drowsiness to pass over whoever entered. Henderson had fallen asleep as soon as the lamplight died down, and Emalia followed not long after. Jeter enjoyed these moments of bliss, where he could shut out the outside world and focus on his studies. Of course, he was still fully aware of his ward’s body pressed up against his arm, but nothing else mattered.”~