Saffron

The Clan’s Horologist
Master of Clockwork

Saffron was once apprenticed to the astound Professor Favian, master of clocks, music boxes, wind-ups toys and the like of many other trinkets. The Professor taught the secrets of the trade to his young apprentice, and Saffron was a wonderful and brilliant pupil. As the years wore on the two grew very close. Professor Favian had come to love Saffron as his own son and in turn Saffron admired him greatly and adored him like a father. The two grew quite a reputation together and were known as the greatest horologists in the land, there wasn’t any clock, watch or music box they couldn’t fix. Save for a leaking lantern which Favian told Saffron again and again to get rid of but he was determined to fix it, and the Professor couldn’t help but take pride in his determination.

Alas, time wears down on us all and when the Professor’s body began to fail him a terrible accident occurred. A candle in the workshop had been knocked over and left unnoticed. With never ending hunger, consumed the table and spread to the floor devouring its way to the walls. The fire started in the outer-workshop and before Favian knew what was happening black acrid smoke was pouring into the inner-workshop. There where no windows in the inner-workshop, Favian was trapped. He tried calling for help but his throat and lungs burned from the horrid smoke and only managed to cough. A figure flew from the inferno and it was none other than Saffron who had been working outside. Saffron who’s clothes were smudged and feathers singed but his eyes remained bright.

It was Saffron’s determination that brought his downfall. At the time before the fire he had been working on the leaking lantern and his hands and arms were covered in oil. He flew through the blaze so fast in wasn’t enough to catch it on fire but on his way out with the professor he couldn’t leave his side. Saffron arms burst into flame and with a strangled shriek he grabbed the Professor and leaped out of the blaze into the cool afternoon air.

The fire did not let go, no matter how many times Saffron rolled, batted or clawed at his arms. The fire threatened to consume his chest and neck when Favian suddenly came with a barrel of water and doused poor Saffron. The fire finally let go, but the damaged was done, Saffron arms could not be saved. They where amputated, and Saffron was heart broken. He could not continue his study in clockwork, his passion and his lively hood were burned away. Favian faired better but not even he remained unscathed, the black smoke poisoned his lungs giving him a nasty ragged cough that left him gasping and wheezing for air.

As the two recovered they had the workshop rebuilt and when they returned Saffron told Favian he could no longer work in the trade so he would leave. The Professor begged him to stay saying he could give him back his arms he just had to wait. Saffron said to his beloved professor that it was alright, he did not blame him for what happened, it was an accident. But Favian blamed himself, Saffron came back for him, he should have noticed the fire sooner, and he should of told Saffron to get rid of that damned leaky lantern. But none the less Saffron stayed if only to set Favian’s heart at ease. The Professor was used to small trinkets like clocks and music boxes, what he set to make for Saffron was far more complicated. He spent years researching, designing and planning before he started crafting his final creation: clockwork arms.

The old Professor spent his last years putting together Saffron new arms, as his terrible cough sapped his frail body of life. Throughout the years Saffron was there by his side offering guidance where Favian’s mind began fail. On the day the clockwork arms were finally finished Favian left the workshop table and went to his bed instantly falling into a deep untroubled sleep. He never woke, and his body was later buried under a tree close to the workshop.

Saffron found the arms and in one of its hand it held a note that said:



It was true that Favian’s final creation was his greatest. Saffron’s eye traced over the thin golden tendons that stretched to the wrist...(lore in progress)

Polished brass gleamed like gold in the candle light.