Centuries ago, on an Earth almost completely devoid of the magic that you seven take for granted, an alchemist toiled in his workshop.
The alchemist, Partenen, sought a means of creating artificial life, perhaps even a means of raising the dead.
He was shunned and mocked by his neighbors, but he was convinced at all times that he was moments away from a breakthrough.
And then he died.
His soul drifted through the infinite expanse of the Spirit World, he saw universes where his dreams could not only have been a reality but were simple and commonplace.
He looked further, saw universes beyond his comprehension, universes he could not reach out and touch. Knowing your life's work was meaningless is enough to make anyone a bit unhinged, hrm?
But in his wandering, he saw one potential vector for a second chance at life, a second chance at his success.
Some incredible magical force was pulling spirits to a world called the NTWF. He followed, and saw Writers raising the dead to their whim.
More importantly, he saw one of the Writers infusing those spirits into mechanical bodies built using that same magic.
By studying the methods, he realized that if he built machines himself to house the spirits, he could redirect that magic to himself.
Partenen began his work as though on commission, though his would-be patrons had no idea they were funding his work.
He channeled this magic into his own little pocket dimension, his own workshop.
The first two requests were from the same Writer: a powerful head of state; and a whimsical poet.
But the souls that Partenen pulled were not the people that the Writer thought they were. The leader was not merely charismatic and brash, but an oppressive tyrant.
The poet was not only full of childlike whimsy, but had deep-seated prejudices that are hard to truly ever shake.
So Partenen made a decision: when he made these machines, he would only use a fragment of the true soul, and make the rest of the machine fit the myth of these people.
Likewise, when Partenen got a request for a truly vile human being to be crafted in opposition to the leader, he softened it into a more cartoonish evil.
It's a win-win, right? Partenen gets to keep more power for himself, the Writers get what they wanted instead of what they asked for.
Partenen did not anticipate the power of a true human soul, however.
The machines that still lived: the leader, the poet, and a later-made peacekeeper, began to adopt more and more of the personality of their true selves.
The poet and the peacekeeper confronted Partenen, and demanded answers. When they recieved them, they insisted on exorcizing the "real" souls from their bodies.
Partenen was convinced that this would turn them into mindless husks, but eventually he relented under threat.
Partenen did not realize what a soul truly was.
While it was true that the poet, initially, was infused solely with the heart of an impetulent jester, and the peacekeeper was infused solely with the heart of a stalwart pacifist, their experiences made them more than what they were.
The poet and peacekeeper cast off the names that never belonged to them, renaming themselves Limerix and Pax. Partenen made them new shells to suit them.
The two sought to warn their old friend, the leader, of what might be happening to him, but he was far too busy to take their message.
The charismatic leader, the oppressive tyrant, had been tasked with rebuilding a country after a revolution.
Who was leading the country before this? Funny story about that.
