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 new player plays a surprising play
Jargon strolled across a massive corridor while whistling mindlessly, and his arms swayed by his sides respectively. He passed by the metallic walls with relish and happiness. The goal strayed close to completion—How could he not be happy?
This was great.
"Little scientist, wash your neck, lay it on the chopping block; the ax is coming back!" Jargon sang to himself while possessing a wide, manic grin, a grin so wide and cheeky it looked animalistic.
"You can run, you can scream, but you will be hunted and skinned."
The song became louder, bringing an ethereal beauty to the otherwise silent and gloomy corridor.
"So where are you—where is you—where have you gone—where do you hide?"
Then the hunter's steps paused, his head turned to a pitch-black x-marked spot on this corridor. It looked and felt unique, but mundane, all the same.