Information

Automatons has a minion!

Rigsby the Sewts

Automatons
Legacy Name: Automatons

The

Steamwork Sheeta
Owner:

kitsche

Age: 13 years, 6 months, 2 weeks

Born: October 18th, 2010

Adopted: 13 years, 6 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: October 18th, 2010

Nominate Pet for Spotlight

Statistics

Level: 4
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

Once upon a time, there was a young boy whose father was a clock-maker. Together with the boy's mother, the family owned their very own shop - 'Clarke's Automata Emporium: Custom Clockwork Creations and Antique Repairs!' - in what was known was the commercial 'Olde' section of the city they lived in. Since their family home was the pair of apartments above the shop, the young boy spent most of his free time watching his father slave over the ornate antique clocks that came in for repairing and, when the opportunity allowed, pouring all of his love into a completely new creation of his own. During this time, the boy sat and watched, enrapt, silently soaking up the intricacies of his family's business.

At school, the boy dreamed of dirigibles, great airships powered by mountains of cogwork and more technology than the world knew what to do with. His teachers stared on, dumbfounded, as he presented them with pages of plain, lined paper full of diagrams - sketched as only a child could - with endless enthusiasm.
He was happy.
The boy's name was Louka Elias Clarke.
The happiness didn't last.
Now, because most modern clocks are mass produced in factories, out of the eye of the world (and, if we're honest, they're no longer viewed with as much reverence as they once were; people have forgotten the marvels and intricacies of horology), individual clockmakers struggle - and Clarke's Automata Emporium was no exception, unfortunately. People stopped wanting custom-made clocks - why would they, when they could buy something much cheaper to fob some poor soul off with? In past times, an entirely unique clock was a sign of quality, of class - now, it was but a silliness, a mere trifle. The rich wanted flash cars and designer clothing, and the grand clocks of past-times were kicked to the curb.
Luckily, the Clarke family had amassed a dedicated clientele; antiques dealers, collectors and historians alike visited their quaint family shop for repairs on their cog-filled contraptions. It was hardly a lucrative business, but they managed.

[unfinished]

profile, artwork, story & overlay by

kitsche