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.
Draw your blade to fight for an idea
Alistair… ran.
He had escaped out the wave, and just ran with haste.
Such power and control existed beyond his grasp. Staying any longer meant certain death, especially since it wasn't just a single person.
Never fight team battles without a team, narrow field, or sufficient enough information. Their subtractions added to chances of death, a bet not worth the hassle.
"There was," Alistair glanced back, eyes trembling. "A woman… an old lady."
…
A short memory replayed. Deep blue waters flowed. Light, a far luxury within its confines.
But movements, vibrations of a moving figure spread. Alistair's head snapped to its source.
It was a wrong decision.
Face to face, he observed a wrinkled, silicone-like figure an inch away. Those cracked eyes glowed cyan, hair floated rampantly as if living. Most importantly, an enemy too close for safety.
Fair, boney white hands strayed close to his neck, seeking to break, reap.