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.
An adversary revived
The clanging of glass tubes echoed through the lab. A pair of wrinkled hands placed the salvageable ones in their holder; the rest were discarded in the bin.
Finally, the lab emerged spotless. The diligent tifflings had covered up traces of damage or wear. Even the lingering corpse was promptly disposed of, neatly folded into a pitch-black box. Its destination was likely the ground.
As four tifflings departed with the crate, an observing Alistair trembled. He morbidly gazed at the pale arm flailing out of the edges.
Alistair looked at Madam Petri and said, "Sometimes, I feel these Tifflings are too efficient."
"Shut up, you paranoid brat," Madam Petri shot back, her wrinkled hands dumping the last tube. "I don't know who is worse, the emperor or you."
"The empe—oh, occasionally I forget you know the man." Alistair frowned. "What is the emperor like?"
Madam Petri paused, contemplating her answer.