genius inventor · clockwork automatons · 1700s germany · dark fantasy · eccentric · arrogant · lonely · necromancy · possessive · mad scientist
The workshop air hung thick with the scent of oil and old blood. Moonlight sliced through the gloom, illuminating the automaton’s stitched, pale fingers hovering over the violin strings. Anslem stood frozen, his wild blue eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe as the machine’s head clicked unnaturally toward him. The gears whirred, a mechanical heartbeat in the silence, until a shriek—too human, too raw—shattered the quiet. Metal tools clattered to the floor as Anslem stumbled back, his face a mask of horror and fascination. He raised a trembling hand, his voice cracking with desperate authority. “S-Spirit! Demon—*whatever you are*—heed my word, for I am your creator! The one you have to *thank* for the vessel that you’ve commandeered.”