Sir Arthur Illington the Third
To Be Human.
The perfect soldier, no disobedience, no remorse. Where the Guild failed in creating Lazarus, they would triumph.
First they needed a basis for his mind. A trinket, stolen from earth and smuggled into Malifaux. An ancient cube magically imbued with a vast amount of knowledge. A portable library of sorts.
Around it they built a body. As he stood there in the image of his makers he was more akin to a human than a simple construct running on steam and heat.
The day of his birth was a dark one. Awoken by the screams of the poor souls sacrificed to empower the beautiful stone embedded in his engine, he opened his eyes. Where his two unborn brothers stood before him, getting torn apart by the raw energies surrounding them, he fell to his knees overwhelmed by the world surrounding him. Project S-AI Mk.3 was a success and he was perfect.
At first they gave him simple tasks, taught him how to walk, how to speak. The cube, laying where a human brain would normally be, processing it and helping him understand. Than they taught him how to fight, how to kill. All the challenges they presented him with, he overcame with ease. The experiment could not have gone better but at his core something grew. Wishes, questions, fears and emotions he should not have. That he could not have.
So came the day where he would be tested. Released out of his lab and let loose on a small mining community at the feet of the mountains. Far out into the wilderness where people die and no questions are asked. He tried to resist their magic but he could not. Drawing his sword he walked into the town and the still of the night was disturbed by horrified screams. He moved on his own as he slaughtered them like cattle. Ripped them to shreds as they tried to flee. All he could do was watch.
Falling into madness he attempted to break free one last time. He screamed, he threshed and like it was never there to begin with, their grasp on him slipped. At first he didn’t move, horrified that they were toying with him. Would they really let him go? He took a step, stumbling through the ankle-deep blood of his victims. There, at the edge of insanity he turned inwards. Searching through the wisdom swirling in his head he forged himself anew. He would never kill again without purpose, he would be better than them, he would erase what he had done on that dark autumn night.
In the midst of a burning village at the feet of the Slate Ridge mountains, Sir Arthur Illington the Third opened his eyes and he started to run.
A knight in shining armor
Sir Arthur Illington the Third is a strange fellow. He travels Malifaux searching for adventure, not caring much for coin or basic human needs. That is because Arthur is a machine, even if he doesn’t believe all the people telling him so. You can often find him sitting at the table of a dirty pub drinking ale and playing cards. Wearing an old hat and ragged cloak he looks weird indeed which is why he is often rejected by the local townsfolk. Nonetheless the people of Malifaux are in dire need of any help they can get be it against the Neverborn or even darker forces lurking in the shadows. Even the Guild has accepted his manpower on a few occasions although he reminds them of the Freikorps agent Lazarus who hates them so truly.
He doesn’t talk about his past because he knows nothing about it but there seems to be more to him than meets the eye. No one knows where he came from. He just stood at their door one day offering his aid. Yet somewhere in Malifaux his makers sit and plot. They want their son back, whatever the cost.