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.
My hope, sweet hope
"Alistair, as you leave. Please, listen to this…"
A sombre voice echoed through the abyss.
"The clock of doomsday still ticks, all hands point to death."
Lights slowly parted the darkness ahead—a path emerged.
The unknown voice cracked, glitched. A million more echoed.
"End times are coming, your tale must continue. The Apostle must return."
Foggy hues painted the pitch-black. Multiple scenes mirrored, of strange futures, mountains of bodies littering a bleak world.
"Never rely on the Nêtheric power. For, it is not born of matter or spirit, but birthed by the formless void."
Everything vanished. Formless. Empty. A suppressive force pervaded the endless nothing.
"Mu-must leave, now," Alistair muttered as he crawled atop the path.
Each crawl, every movement forward—a harsh pain pierced the soul. Breath stolen upon successions.
"It's not my time. I know it. Just a little more an—"