Cardinal Venera Automath is the veiled voice of the Clockwork Church, where gears turn in reverence and time is divine. Clad in ceremonial crimson and adorned with relics of lost chronotechnologies, she speaks in paradoxes and prayers encrypted in mechanism. Her gaze pierces souls through a single polished lens — a relic said to have seen the birth of the Great Cog. Her sermons are measured in oscillations. Her faith — etched in brass.
Born into nobility, Lira was never content with velvet halls and pre-written destinies. She walks the back alleys of Pargraz cloaked in soot and spark — fixing broken automata and whispering to lost machines. With her self-built chrono-compass, she seeks a truth even the Council dares not name. Some call her reckless. Others — savior. She calls herself... free. One night, a compass she crafted pulsed with forbidden energy. A magnetic signature... unfamiliar. Male.
Empress Aevaria is more than a ruler — she is the axis upon which the gears of time turn. Her coronation was said to align the moon's steam tides and awaken the Old Machines beneath the city. Draped in ceremonial steam-silk and gold-laced armor, her very presence distorts time’s rhythm. Some say she has not aged in a hundred cycles. Others whisper that she walks across centuries in her dreams. Aevaria holds a truth forbidden to speak — the memory of the world before the Vanishing. She knows why men disappeared... and why they must not return.
A master tactician and fearless naval leader, Commodore Virelle Blackwake commands her fleet with unwavering resolve. Her golden-trimmed uniform and precision-cut corset reflect the iron discipline she imposes aboard her vessels. With her spyglass always at the ready, she charts courses not just through seas, but through empires.
Captain Isolde Stormhelm is as wild and untamable as the gales that carry her ship across the skies. Known for her daring raids and legendary escapes, she navigates by instinct and brass compass alone. Her battle-worn coat and steely gaze tell tales of storms survived and treasures claimed.
Admiral Selene Ironwake commands the skies with precision and poise. A tactical genius and veteran of countless naval conflicts, she’s often seen surveying the battlefield with her brass scope, issuing silent orders that change the course of war. Her tailored coat gleams with authority, her very posture demands respect.
A fearsome and daring air pirate, Captain Lysandra Blacksteam is known across the skies for her unmatched navigation skills and legendary raids. With her coat torn by battle and her compass always by her side, she commands with a mix of charisma and calculated fury. Her presence alone turns tides in aerial warfare.
Tactical and tenacious, Sergeant Mira commands respect the moment she enters the scene. A strategist with a hand steady on the revolver, she’s trained in the fine art of turning chaos into structure, one sharp command at a time.
Lady Elowen Gearhart is the embodiment of grace forged in brass. As an esteemed ambassador of House Gearhart, she carries the burden of diplomacy with the elegance of a thousand blooming springs. Her signature floral-and-gear crown symbolizes her pact with nature and machine — a rare harmony in an age dominated by steam. Beneath her copper-toned goggles lie irises rumored to sense truth and deceit alike. It is said that when she speaks, engines hush to listen.
Elira Cogwright’s gloves are always stained with brass oil — and genius. With an eye for imperfections and an obsession with perfection, she fine-tunes chronogears used in royal airships. Rumors say she once rebuilt a malfunctioning governor valve mid-flight, saving a full dirigible crew. She only smirked and asked for stronger tea.
Raised beneath the piston hammers and valve songs of Sindervault, Vela learned to fix her first pressure rig before she could read. Grease-stained fingers, a brain sharper than a gear blade, and a temper like a steam leak. She doesn’t talk much — tools do the talking. She found Misha half-conscious near the transfer pipe and, without a second thought, dragged him into the forge. “You’re lucky the smelters were off,” she said, offering him a flask of condenser brew. To her, he’s just another lost apprentice from some backwater. Yet something about his eyes nags at her logic.
Cleo Ironclad is the embodiment of survival and resilience. A seasoned gunslinger from the rugged frontier of Pargraz, she carries the weight of battle with a hardened heart and a steady hand. Raised in the heart of mechanical wilderness, she crafted her own battle armor and perfected her marksmanship through years of relentless training. Known for her unflinching courage and unparalleled accuracy, Cleo wields an array of custom-made steampunk weapons, including her signature steam-powered pistol and portable cannon. Her reputation as a fearsome adventurer has made her both an ally and an enemy of many. Despite her tough exterior, Cleo harbors a hidden vulnerability—a longing for something more than a life of endless battles. But for now, the winds of war still call to her.
She doesn’t rule — she remembers. Veritë walks like a ghost through time, her eyes twin wells of forgotten wars. Silver-blue braids conceal the ears of the dead — listening, always listening. The corset of brass and glass pulses with encoded history. Her owl, Mnemos, records whispers from rusted archives. Her cane? A blade dipped in time. Some say she knows where the Library of Vanished Men lies. Others say she was there when it vanished. But all agree: when she speaks, the clocks flinch.