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.
Until our eyes see truth
"How the mighty have fallen. Played, from the beginning to end, on a string," a voice echoed. Darkness veiled its source.
"Abandon fate, and fate abandons you. The unworthy son. An unleashed dog.
"Your life, is not, was not, supposed to continue like this." The voice faded, misty. "Where is your future but bleakness, infidel."
The abyss exploded. Lights seeped from the never-ending void. Warps… unending. Relentless in form.
A room had emerged. Three corners, grey walls on each side–windows misaligned on every part. Bulb lightened the ceiling, only. Disasters of architecture.
Structure to be abandoned, decorum ruined as two figures materialized within. Same face, same height, same mind.
Alistairs.
Two Alistairs eyed from a seat--blue crossed gazes.
"The past has prevented our future, dear me," muttered Alistâir, crevices infesting his face. A cold smile on lips.
"You again." Alistair frowned. "What do you want?"