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Ok, I admit that I've failed somewhere before. But anyway welcome. Just a brief intro on what you should expect here:
1. Football. Not gonna post much of that any soon since season is over. :S
2. Anime, Games, etc. Just abt anything conceivable under the Japanese radar barring anything and everything Rule 34. Now that's illegal. Period. -.-;
3. Music. Everything to do with it is listed under the tab.
5. Unacceptable humour: Anything and everything is fair game here. As long as I don't get rounded up by the ISA. -.-'

6.
The Known World=Fantasy world building in process. I: Used to be glossary, now devoted to random rambling; II: Character Concepts; III: Lore.
7. der Wolf=my Fictionpress account under the moniker Tsumujikaze no Soujutsu. A Ranger's Tale is hosted under this page. :)
8. New section now upped. Maybe I should also gun for upping A Ranger's Tale here since I do have this funny feeling that traffic coming to here is way more than whatever I'll get in FP.

Statement of intent: Everything said here is a figment of personal opinion, be it me or anybody commenting. I try to be responsible, but my parents=/=parents of the world.

@Druid of Luhn: Crap. Should have remembered far earlier to give you the credit for your CSS text box code. :(

A/N: But sadly, it seems that your CSS text box code has now been halved efficiency wise. :(

That most important note I should have added: Any images posted in this blog are NOT my own stuff. I got them from Google image search, I don't earn any shit by being a thief and liar. Those responsible for the pictures, rest assured that you all are great artists in your own regards. Sadly, we all know what limited space means in terms of posting.

Latest Note: Changed alignment for my page widgets due to my worry that I can't centre align the thing.

Note on A Ranger's Tale: In case any complaining fella wants to have a legal case with me, let this be known that A Ranger's Tale is rated M by default. I've upped the swearing and somewhat a bit on the dark/gritty factor. You all have been warned, let no little boy and girl enter the forbidden realm.

Latest on ART: A Ranger's Tale now starting to kick back in gear. But I really hate the insanely fluctuating climate here in S'pore.

P.S: Oh, and one more thing. Vid below is yet another ideal OP for A Ranger's Tale.

Thursday, 7 February 2013

And Hence The Cub Bungles

They say Teesside has always been the worst place possible to live in, they say Teesside has never experienced any growth for the past decade. But they never will ever say Teesside is to be a lion's cradle nor will they ever know all that do not glitter might be gold. For who can judge the worth of a lion walking amongst men?


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A Ranger's Tale

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"Guy, I have something to tell you..."

Damn, I don't like where this is going. Dammit, Alestrial!  Stop rocking back forth like that!

"Actually... I like you."

Wait a holy sec… what the fuck is that? Guy Cody, you lucky, lucky sod. I can't be hearing fairy tales, right? Is that her confession of love? The intoxicating fragrance from her dark flowing locks... is that a dream as well? Rosy cheeks now slightly flushed? Her doe-like eyes shying away from me?

"Wait a holy sec… me?"

"Why yes, you heard me, Guy… YOU."

Oh damn… this is some weird shit. I must have been smoking some funny herbs. Catts is gonna get it from me. But still for the very first time in history, I manage to fully believe in anything once your brains go ‘pop’…

Wait a holy sec… I think I've just kept my composure.

Her affirmation to incredulous thoughts playing catch with me ends with a timid nod, a blissful smile sealing the best deal in my life. A lifelong dream finally dawning upon me, the dreamer in me hit an all-time high.

"Yes! Finally you've accepted me! Alestrial Eliaden! The one and only!"

Leaping in joy, I pump my fist like an eighteen year old virgin about to score with his first date. Finally freed, this rabbit here is now free to munch his carrot.

Wait a holy sec… am I using the correct term?

"I've always liked you all the while. It's just that I never had the chance to tell you," smiles my petite Cinha angel as she rested her delicate hands against my chest. Holding onto Alestrial's shoulders, I can only bob my head like an enthusiastic puppy while feeling fountains of joy gushing from my eyes.

"I understand now, Alestrial. The Father will bless our union for sure!"

"Of course He will. The Church has always been a fair system for the entire North. In my opinion, that is,” giggles Alestrial, “He will definitely give us His blessings as Head of the Quintet Faith, but if only..."

"Tell me Alestrial and I'll do it for you! Even if it’ll cost me my life and my greatest pride! Unto Hell and Heaven’s high!"

They say pointing towards the skies is a guarantee of sincerity. Yep, I always see that in the street plays and I can learn stuff really fast.

"Oh, don't worry. Your life won't be at stake, but you're correct on that other count," says Alestrial as her eyes start emitting a green eerie glow, "I just want to take your manhood."

Wait a holy sec, that's the greatest comedy skit ever, right?

"Why are you giving me this expression? You've heard me right. That 'thing' in between your legs," giggles my fair lady again as a knife suddenly appears out of thin air. Great, just like how the epic tales have recounted feats of Magic.

"You know a certain thing, Guy? I really like my ideal guy to be incomplete. Please accede to my demands if you really love me," smiles Alestrial innocently with her knife flipping about with crazy dexterity, "Don't worry though. I know it will be quite a bit painful, but we both know I'll take care of you forever. Unless of course you want to renege on our promise made six years ago."

Wait a holy sec, me getting chained all over and trapped in a dungeon? Great, marionette Guy is now shackled for life.

Wait a holy sec… am I gaping like that fish Uncle Parky boned years ago?

Shit! Shit’s all too damned real now! I can only shake my head violently in denial as my fountains manage to warp big time from joy to despair. Yeah, I know I’m getting way too calm. Sucks to be me alright.

"No! It shouldn't end like this! You're not the real deal! A faker! The real Alestrial Eliaden will never do such a thing to me! No... Nooo... NOOOOOOO!"

I really hate that stupid knife now! I know that vilest abomination is starting to dominate my sweetheart!

Then…

"Shut the fuck up!"

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A sandy blond found himself sprawling face first on the lacquered wooden floor, sapphire windows opened wide greeting every face before him. Merely an average looking lad with hair cropped short and spiked, no one could ever take Guy Cody seriously. Angry glares combined with bulging veins sent him their regards as a slight bump was felt at the forehead.

"Erm... it's a dream, no?" smiled Guy sheepishly in the face of all dressed in brown shorts and white collarless shirts.

"You're obviously having a nightmare," growled the nearest lad next to him, a fiery grimace complimenting his fiery hair, "To be blunt, I don't give a flying ass on why you're drooling and screaming, but for the love of the entire Holy Quintet, don't let this affect our sleep!"

"Eh, did I really scream that loud, Catts?" replied a goofy Guy, his hand rubbing the forehead gently.

"There's no such thing as a quiet asshole," snarled Catterm Leen, his problematic friend seized by the collar, "Hopefully our bunk officers didn't end up hearing a stuck pig screaming. There’ll be a holy reckoning and you'll see Judgment Day soon enough from we all lads... especially me."

"Erm, okay Catts. I get the picture," grinned the sandy blond, his hands holding up like a thief caught red handed.

"What are all of you doing here?"

Responding to a question cutting through like a hot knife into butter, every occupant hastily shuffled himself and stood in ranks of three as a stocky bunk officer received a proper salute from a group of fifteen.

"Catterm Leen! Guy Cody! Why are the two of you still not standing at attention?" barked the brunette soldier decked in padded armour.

"Sorry, Sir!" exclaimed Catterm with a salute, "Erm, actually we're pretty much surprised at your surprise assault. As you can see, I was way too engrossed in teaching our stuck friend here some lessons on how civilisation works."

"Teach? You, Catts? Puh’lease, you're balmy beyond cure! And why mention civi..." before Guy could finish his statement, Catterm slapped him across the head with a whispered warning.

"Shut up, fuckwit! You'll only get the lads buggered for good."

Delivering a wry smile conceived from his well humoured nature, Southgate Garrat didn’t have to be a half-baked idiot in reaching an answer.

"Tis only natural for anyone to have nightmares every once in a while,” Southgate cleared his throat in a somewhat exaggerated manner, “But I do not want to see any more shenanigans being shitted out. Your repute as the most notorious company within the Second Support Command has officially preceded everything else. Understand me, laddie bucks?"

The youths under his charge sang a song of relief within their hearts as they managed to escape the gates of Hell. They could easily be screwed ten times over, yet a what-if would always remain a what-if. Certain things should stay the same, each individual made a mental note to restrain himself if he's to be in Guy's shoes one day.

"Okie, lads! With all things said, prepare yourselves for the roll call. Dawn is nearing ‘pon us and may the Roar be with you! Get me?" hollered Southgate, his right arm dramatically swept across.

"Yes, Sir!" answered every recruit enthusiastically.

"Man, it's a good thing seeing Southgate as our bunk chief... guess rumours of him being the nicest bloke in Teesside is indeed true. Definitely luckier than us playing buff poker with the mad cats at Wearside and Tyneside years ago," remarked Guy.

"Do you mind?" snapped Catterm, “When was the last time you floored anyone from either Division?”

"Erm, last week? Or is it last month?"

Catterm swore he could have easily throttled Guy alive had not the morn came calling by. With peals of intent tolling forth, anticipation towards a long day ahead soon washed over everybody's head akin to a cold morning bath. The boy was nowhere different as well, his cheesy smile worn like a badge of pride and knuckles instinctively cracked. Four rigorous years spent in the Merseyside Academy and life as he hoped so much since adopted had now transformed for good into reality. The Red Lions' infamous quote was instantly burnished in his heart, strides fueled by passion invoked taking him all the way unto the bathhouse.

Time to roar off the monkey piss.

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Breakfast was a simple platter of bacon, scrambled eggs, and plain buttered toast for every personnel seated in the canteen. Equality and duty going hand in hand, officers and recruits both dined alike. Any member belonging to the regular military would gladly steer clear from this practice, for this was something used to earning hidden sniggers. They said such was meant to be a rarity in society, an insult to the military. Yet only a fool with a thousand lives to spare will make known his own sarcasm. The Red Lions would always be feared by all, gossiped by every craven. Always sworn to fight as one, who would be his brother's keeper if there's no one else?

Never bounded by blood, our pride will never fall. If one elite bugger pummels one of us, let him taste then a hundred of us… 

Many a time they had created much welcomed troubles and spectacle finest for every smallborne, none of them wanting to testify against the Red Lions. The nobility loathed them, the rest loved them. And above all, the Empire endorsed them.

"Eh, the food here rocks..." quipped Guy with an off-tune whistle blown, his own plate cleared and returned personally.

"A blimey as well. This ain't the Tyneside Division because no one knows what their cooks are smoking before lighting the stove," huffed Catterm, "Hey, there's still a bit of time before we gear up, so why not a little bant? It's been a hell of a time since people started calling us Beater and Dickhead. I blame my loony old man and his desperate attempts to ship me off to Wearside."

"Yeah, sounds good to all!” beamed Guy as they found a quiet spot nearby the vacant archery range, “Shot one: Where were you clowning about before we re-bro'ed at the Academy?"

"There's a load of bollocks called learning how to run the family business. You're no stranger dick to the fact that combat learning is my call. Ain't it a shame to see my old fogey foaming on the spot?" snorted the redhead with a dismissive flick of his hand.

"Wow, you fed your dad arsenic?" exclaimed Guy, his reward paid in full by another slap across the skull, this time way harder.

"Moron! I'll never do that because I'm not you! My mom would have been rolling in her grave!" snapped the fiery redhead as he managed to recollect himself instantly, "Guy, please don't talk like an idiot even while sleeping unless you're alone by yourself. Fuck dammit… so how’s your end?"

"Sticking around with uncle Parky!” shrugged a beaming Guy, his cleanly shaven chin scratched absently, “He's an iron chef right now, you know,"

"We all know that by now, idiot. Honourable discharge due to injury sustained in the line of duty," sighed Catterm in frustration, "And besides, are you really serious in joining we lads just for one minor noble chick's sake?  Dude, I'm tempted to ask again ‘where’s my crowbar’ because back then, I nearly choked on my fries when word first broke out."

"Hey, Catts! I suddenly remember something!" said Guy as he snapped his fingers.

"What?" Catterm raised an eyebrow in response.

"You're sounding unusually composed!"

Errgh! Why must I be his friend?

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Apparently thrilled towards the prospect of starting his first day as a rookie, Guy was decked in a suit of leather scales and green sleeveless tunic bearing the Red Lions' symbol just like members of every Support Command. Upon his head a spangenhelm was donned with right hand gripping a spear's oaken shaft. The time was now at hand, bugles blaring the Gaffer’s arrival. Knowing not what is to come bar hoping his first job will be a major task, Guy's posture tightened up.

Atmosphere permeating the Teesside Division became formal and tensed up as Moggray Tonn made his entrance with nary a single pomp. This was a seasoned veteran used to braving fires of war, constant fighting against any and all invaders threatening the Empire's peace being his story in life. Savage bandits were his constant victims, every Orcish raid repelled served only to tally up scars decorating his face. Storm grey eyes daring comers to challenge his stand, a shining mail made from scales sparkled forth an aura of steel. What was to be the most conspicuous sight, however, was a helm carried under his arm. Headgear being the namesake itself, it was truly a roaring lion's visage seemingly alive and nigh unbreakable.

"Is everything okay, Southgate?" Moggray asked the bunk officer beside him, his firm, yet gentle tone catching every recruit unaware.

"Tis all fine, Gaffer Sir," replied Southgate with a respectful salute.

"Alright then," muttered Moggray curtly, a scar lined face turning towards his charges, "As the Division Gaffer of Teesside, I hereby welcome you officially to the Red Lions. I'm not too good with whatever words and far worse off in tolerating whatever fools, so I may as well allocate your duties accordingly. Most importantly, take serious note of this: all you people here are part of the entire Support Command, hence direct combat should only be engaged under orders. It's either you learn to obey or prepare to be brayed. Understand?”

As thunderous bellowing from the boots affirmed their stance, Moggray inhaled deeply before his actual briefing. Erecting a stoic facade every day seen was the only solution, battling a sense of real unease being the only way out.

The system of Support Command is there for a reason and everybody knows why, Moggray tried assuring himself.

The Gaffer of Teesside had seen too many a death to discount circumstances unforeseen.

They’re just merely boys embarking on the path of men, Moggray reminded himself.

The Gaffer of Teesside had to take that inevitable plunge now.

“As you have known by now, there has been a case of someone causing trouble at Lindel. Just don't ask me how that brown bugger managed to kill and bail, but at least I'm pretty sure the description is dead-on. Refer to the info issued to you an hour ago,” Moggray felt his throat going dry as he soldiered on.

“It’s been rumoured that a suspicious figure had been seen around our Teesside county, hence your immediate task is to scout the surrounding areas. Every single inch that is.

“The First Support Command is already mobilised together with the Fifth, Sixth and Eighth Engagement Command. As for every of you in the Second Support Command, necessary deployment will be on the cards if there's a need for additional back-up. Until then, stay red!"

"Erm, Gaffer Sir?" Guy raised up his hand, "What about the blokes at Manchester? I thought they are supposed to be best of the best."

"Sound opinion being voiced out here. Others tend to call you a cretin, but obviously you're not too shabby in the humour department. Good try of sarcasm here, Guy Cody,” smiled Moggray genuinely in spite of his struggle earlier, “Learn from him, lads."

"Erm, Sir... it's not too good to say things like that," whispered Southgate.

"Well, I'm just stating the cold hard truth,” came a winking reply, “And Southgate, you're also included in this statement. Just to let you know anyway."

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"Well, I don't know if it's lucky or unlucky to team up with you," sighed Catterm as the duo duly enjoyed a smoking break in the gearing barracks.

"What do you mean by that, Catts?" questioned Guy in a hushed tone, basic knowledge indicating certain rules being broken.

"Very simple. You're my buddy all the while, you're pretty much a rash guy as well. Definitely fun to be with you, but a pain in the ass to watch after you," grumbled Catterm, his lips puffing out smoke much to Guy's ghastly horror.

"But it will be a good chance, no?" answered Guy, an impish grin curving up abruptly as Southgate was heard hollering vulgarities towards a bunch of recruits doing the same act somewhere further off.

"A good chance?" the redhead knitted his brow despite understanding where their conversation is heading to.

"Yeah. Hearing the Gaffer's talk about that mysterious sod now makes me all ready for action," nodded the sandy blond as additional vulgarities, this time round from Moggray's ire, created tingles of hilarity tickling the duo. Joints stubbing out hastily, the two soon resumed their banter.

"Action? Please for fuck’s sake, we're dealing with a certified nutjob! The only action available is seeing you killed on the spot," huffed Catterm, the cracking sound from Guy’s knuckles minutes earlier promptly hinting at signs most unsettling.

"Catts..." replied Guy with a posture suddenly hunched, his hands clasped together before a sombre face.

"What? Please don't scare me with this kind of body language," said Catterm in a worried tone, "You know I hate that look of yours."

"Don't you feel weird seeing all of us getting mobilised without a single statement being voiced out from the regular military? This doesn't sound natural..."

"So?" retorted Catterm in reply, his nerves fraying in answer to Guy’s damning question.

"Catts, I suspect we might have been boned even though I can't put a finger on how and why."

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Background notes:


Bray: Informal spoken term referring to (someone) being scolded. Inspired by Sir Alex Ferguson's infamous hairdryer treatment.

Getting (someone) buggered: Nothing to do with homophobic slurs, but rather it means getting specified people into unwanted trouble.

May the Roar be with you: A parody of that all-famous Star Wars quote with the exact meaning.

Time to roar off the monkey piss: Simply put, it roughly means "fuck the situation".

Re-bro: Reunited. Used within the male context.

Iron chef: Soldiers who have undergone honourable discharge tend to open their own eateries due to knowing next to nothing on the other crafts of trade. This is especially so given that, depending on circumstances, military personnel must forage for food.

Boned: Basically means getting screwed by situations/individuals.

Stay red: Keeping alert

The concept of the Red Lions is inspired by Middlesbrough Football Club where the coat of arms is directly similiar to the club logo. The camaraderie shown is inspired by the community bonds between club and the common folks while the culture within can be either interpreted as your everyday military environment or the customary verbal culture in the North East of England. If you see any places that seem weirdly like the real life places in England, your eyes are not kidding you.

Also, Southgate Garrat is Gareth Southgate inspired, Catterm Leen is inspired by Lee Cattermole and Moggray Tonn is my own version of Tony Mowbray. Yes, I'm a certified no-life Singaporean Smoggie Bastard and still proud of it.

Extra information: the term "joint" within The Known World's context, i.e. anything in-plot, has nothing to do with marijuana. Rather it's just merely another term for cigarette.

Also one final note: Spangenhelm is actually for real as in such combat helmets were actually dated back during the Early Middle Ages.

P.S: http://unanswered-bloke-works.blogspot.com/2012/07/lore-red-lions.html

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