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.
The undercroft
The underground "medicine" factory was not an ordinary isolated base. In fact, it possessed countless underground pathways built during the 1700s. Most were abandoned, and others were used as sewer systems.
This led to its peculiar title: The Scary Tunnels.
If you required a fellow man to be discombobulated, dismembered, decapitated, and efficiently dismissed from his mortal coil—you brought them here.
No cries could ever reach the soil; it was the model location for deletion and additions—people loved getting frisky in dark places. As such, the route to Warehouse 17b was accompanied by strange "sounds."
Noises pursued the three-person group led by Alistair. It truly sounded grating.
"Were beds not enough?" Alistair thought with a dazed facade. His expression turned sour; something needed to be done.
"What are your names?" He asked, using the voices from conversation to muffle this imbecility from his ears.