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.
Sit down... talk. Talk to your heart’s content
A blurry ceiling revealed slowly, and a bulb swayed before sight. The silence, like physical matter, pervaded every corner.
After, the haze faded–bleak azure eyes gazed in confusion.
"Fainted. Passage. Yes, I must be in base… or, I got kidnapped."
Alistair listed the outcomes and secretly flexed his left arm, charging. His eyes scanned left. Yep, it was base.
Tight and stuffy as always, a nightmare to sweat glands alike.
However, not everything appeared all 'right'.
Aside from Eve strolling around the room doing God knows what; a man fiddled with a cigarette while cross-seated.
"Sergo," Alistair whispered, scrutinizing the man's facial expressions, analyzing every minute demeanor.
His action didn't go unnoticed.
"The little warrior is awake and faster than expected. I'l say, not sure how healthy that is," Sergo said with a callous side-glance.