Amelia Locke pyr Aertas: Doctor of Tomorrow

[ludster]

"Don't let yourself be held back; unlock your full potential."

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The ever-present hum of the machinations and cogwheels that kept the city of Achyon turning is often revered to be a mechanical wonder, forged by the hands of man. Among its rabbling folks hard at work, the verisimilitude brought by synthetic beings often found the respect of passerbys that witnessed their wonder. These things summed up the ambition and legacy of a family renowned for aiding the creation of innovations such as these—Aertas.

Being the eldest of the Aertas lineage, Locke heralded a plethora of skillsets fitting for those of such descent. Taking to her ancestors, her knack for creation and innovation was comparable to no one—less they bore the same familial descent. Yet the focus she seemed to be most known for is the marrying of her mastery over two schools of study: artificing and medicine. Those that were fortunate enough to be patients would be aware enough of her utilization of far advanced technology in her medicinal processes. A doctor first and foremost, she has been seen among the ranks of frontliners that tackled the plague during its height.

Perhaps seen as flighty, easy-going, and insouciant by most due to her parlance and general treatment of those who are not injured, she can be quite attached to a small number of folks that break the threshold of friendship. Yet it is best not to expect such treatment so easily. Her reception of family however was much more of the role one would have expected the eldest of a set of siblings would take on. Often protective over them, she regarded each of her blood relatives as somewhat 'perfect' to an upper degree. Often seen wandering nearby the fabled Aertas manor, she seemed quite tuned and close with a certain familial babushka who she is often seen trailing.

Her pastimes includes simple tinkering, strolling through the smoggy streets of Achyon, but least known to most is her insistence in helping the necessitous and those who are physically incapable of providing what is needed for the Empire. It would not be a surprise to see her mingling with mendicants, helping in soup kitchens, or even spearhead medical missions for those in dire needs. Perhaps she is just charitable like that?

Nevertheless, she keeps her door open to those who need the swift hands of a doctor. Some have mentioned that they were simply better after a visit to her ward; these people remark that she does all this for the gratuitous cost of free. Yet a select few seem to find their capabilities to have heightened or improved after a single visit. Quite intriguing.

But her miracle clinic is a tale for another day. After all, the dawn of a new century calls for a new set of advancements. One she hopes to achieve with the likes only Achyon can produce.

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If you're interested in a scene, you want to have ties, you get capped on the first day and need help, 

or anything like that, DM me at ludster#3285.

[ludster]

 

 

    

Amidst the hustling downpour looms a distant skyscraper over the technological marvel of the Empire's capital. Upon a penthouse of the towering homebase of a renowned laboratory would behold memorabilias of old.
 
Photographs of long forgotten figures, robed with insignias of that of a cogwheel in motion, with one in particular in the midst of raising their mechanical arm in the air in a glorious pose; images of a family of six, with four children smiling with hope upon their gleaming visages; lastly, a photo depicting that of a more extended family, one bearing sights of a few faces, most notably that being of an amaranthine haired fellow, a small red head enveloped by his arms, and a forced smile upon a woman in a yellow jacket.

  

Soon, the silence of raindrops fade. The turning of a knob and the footfalls of heavy boots echo closer.

  
    

"Lady Aertas. The missives from overseas are still at large. The council wishes to know if Aertas Industries hopes to do something."

  
  

Only does an enervated sigh escape her. A gloved withered hand ebbs upon paperwork sat above a wooden desk. Reports of a Phoenix Core scribbled upon her handwriting, distant but not forgotten. Hands that once graced such a machine, now kept idle as it begins its final hours. No moves are taken, the option of an observer remains as much as their name implies.
   
A humble wave of her fingertips cause a mechanical figure to shift. Hereupon a stamp falls on the paperwork, leaving the label of 'PERMISSION CLASS S' upon it in bright red ink. Finally, the old tone of a monotonous woman beseeches the visitor. Her voice was as stringent as the day she left Esshar.
  

   
"Project Phoenix is to be kept classified. Only its creators and the upper echelon of the government may access its files."
   

   
In moments, the paper is whisked. In a flash, all returns to silence. The rain had long continued to pour upon a distant window. Soon, memories would meld with nothing but ash. What was once the City of Progress would soon find a sudden period upon its existence. Just like how it began, it ends with one final catastrophe.

   
"May Esshar burn upon the whims of the Empire, just one more time."