Arcanist Tales
“The tale never ends, until a hero conquers the demons. May science and will prevail.” *** Alistair Neon Percival. The True Apostle of the Luminiferous Aêther, The Reckless, The Defender of all Beings, Self proclaimed king of emotional blackmail, Reborn in the year 1980 NC. His goal? To be the strongest and attain all magical, scientific, and economical knowledge in the world! However, with the flames of war staining the vast world, soldiers bidding their family farewell, and kingdoms of the realm butting heads to see who has the biggest stick. Institutions on the rise, large and small, each competing for benefits while experimenting on the common populace in the name of science. This is the tales of the Alistair, the practitioner of all things Arcane and most especially. The Apostle Of Aether. Note: contains strong themes of violence, real world knowledge, and slightly opinionated narration.
A warning in blood and guts
Whistles echoed in an alley, produced by a threadbare individual carting waste and lifeless critters.
A shit-stained scarf covered most of their face. Eyes closed–head swinging.
"Billy Jean," he tapped his feet. "Is not my lover!
"She's just a girl who claimed I am oneee."
The scarf swayed to rampant head-bobbing; hips twirling like a stormy tide.
Those legs soon marched on pavement, to streets that avoided the person like the bubonic plague.
"But." There was a pause. "The kid is not my son…."
Within five meters, not even flies sauntered around this individual. Yet, many eyes watched in disgust and many mouths equally whispered.
"Crazies popping up recently after yesterday's issues; maybe the Durmans were good for us after all."
"Shut it; those fuckers deserve death. My niece has been missing, and I am sure they did it."
"Huh? A hoe disappeared–where else do you think they 'missed' those spread legs too?"