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.
No, it can’t be
Clouds shone dark, streaks of light drifting within; a few clawed through the sky of pitch-black.
Then descended a thousand droplets, down roofs, bleak windows─puddles forming on the quiet, barren streets.
Lights illuminated the block, paths devoid of human presence.
Afar, sound did travel. The water splashed, the slow grinding of asphalt followed and a shadow peeked right on through.
A taxi, a shell of former glory, drove into this alley. The flickering of broken headlights resembled dying candles. Tires came to a halt under screeching protest, upon reaching the trash bin.
The driver eyed the dim alley and said: "We here kid, and you owe me for that stunt."
"… You are a good driver," Alistair answered with clear shock, but his hands still passed the money over—plus a two-hundred tip.
"Oh!" the driver exclaimed before flashing a toothy grin. "Well, you ain't so bad kid, just a bit greedy, you."