Whirring clockwork, accompanied by the clanking of metal breaking frozen ground, were all that one would immediately pick up on the island. It was part of many, the mildest of the western islands, yet still surrounded by an uncomfortable chill a few degrees below freezing. The snow was hard packed and slippery under foot in some areas, any ponds and lakes covered by a thin coating of ice.
George Elmore looked around at his surroundings with a curious glowing blue eye. The telescopic sight whirring in and out as it watched for signs of his opponent at the most efficient ranges. His face looked alien, completely smooth but for the eyes and the slit where his mouth should be. Except for that though, he looked relatively human as he walked, although why any human would be out on that overcast and freezing day would be anyone’s guess. Had he actually been seriously affected by the cold his worn cloak and Victorian-style clothes would have no doubt provided ample protection from it, but his muddy bronze ‘skin’ was more than sufficient as an insulator.
Naturally, he was also geared for war. As his hip was a holstered Clockwork pistol, a weapon unique in design which granted it incredible stopping power at the price of rate of fire. In a satchel at his side was his assortment of gadgets, four homing explosives, two flare bombs and smoke grenades. The magical inhibitor lay within easy reach, arguably his most devastating of weapons.
His hands clenched suddenly as he looked on a single lilac flower, covered in snow as it struggled to survive beside a frozen pond, the telescopic sight whirred inwards again. Two trees nearby it had already succumbed to the winter, but for some reason he could not quite perceive, George felt an involuntary desire to protect the fragile plant. He strode over to it, his movement quick but unnatural in its jerkiness, an effect of the clockwork which gave him such mobility. Deep within his soul core, the crystal at his chest which gave him animation, he heard the far off sounds of birds flapping gave him no indication that his opponent was anywhere close. Stomping through frozen grass half covered by snow, he knelt down beside the flower, brushing the snow from its petals with a tender hand.