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.
Hurt, so much hurt
Weeks drifted past, schemes and plans as perpetual as time. Undercurrents arose and rumors spread once again.
"Lots of men died down in some mansion, I hear them government hacks doing human experimentation!"
"Blind rumors again, Dreston? Didn't time at the jail teach you anything at all?"
"Rumour! If it was a rumor, they wouldn't have arrested me!"
"… stupid."
The conversation escalated into a dispute, more drunks in the bar 'coincidentally' joining.
A person's hand flew onto a face; hurling the poor sod into a wall. This tradition passed by word of fists, and there was suddenly… a bar fight.
As the fists flew, so did the drinks─fueling the crowds' anger even more as the precious liquid supposed to warm their bellies was now spilled on the floor.
Some sprinted through the doors, only to receive a well-timed whack from the resident chair-holder.
"Who baffled my head, you baffling bafflers."