Something about this bloggie

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. -.-'

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.

Saturday, 2 March 2013

The Fawn, the Lion, and the Wolf

How much do you worth, O' pride most innocent? A bag of gold, a field of dirt, or a handful of most valuable gems uncut?


Wind blaring from winter's horn, an army of denizens I know not of.

Howling for my blood and mine alone, I mock them as beings I fear nothing from.

Elves, Dwarves, Humans, and all... every Demon comes to fore.

They are as violent waves shattering themselves against a laughing rock.

As wayfarers unschooled in terrain of endless plains and most treacherous woods.

Hence beckons my only friend forever gripped, Fragarach...

Let the Answerer's blade unleash my unrivalled wrath.


A Ranger's Tale


Unlike rumours with no substance, Rockliffe was nowhere different from the other Higher Institutes where efforts in education and decoration were concerned. Yea, just like how the rest had been striving for, Rockliffe also prided itself as one with an unique identity. Its halls were made of the finest wood, its walls built from the strongest granite stone. Every student's boarding room contained wondrous portraits of heroic soldiers and knightly lords, the garden within gates of steel being a green field full of finest flowers and trees. If only the rest of Teesside was to be equally fine.

"And the top award for this year's Words Festival goes to... The Apostles of Yore! Let us all within the Rockliffe rejoice for Alestrial Eliaden, for she has finally won the most coveted price throughout the Empire!"

Joyous news confirmed proclaiming from a birchen stage, squeals brimming with excitement lent additional weight to incessant calls seeking attention. Finally, Rockliffe had secured a victory of pride, the rest of every Higher Institute were left to eat their own hearts out. At least until the next midsummer that is, where all shall duel again for that fairest prize. But next year could afford to wait as every impressionable young maid begged to be the winner's friend and every young lad not yet betrothed fantasised a night worthy of next dawn's boast.

Amidst the euphoria submerging a Cinha beauty not of noble blood, Alestrial Eliaden could only retain a disbelieving expression. Staying numbed in front of her ecstatic peers, thus it came to mind the only picture meandering from her memories...

"So how long have our promise been made? Feels really weird to imagine that moment being neither far nor near. Bah! Who am I trying to kid? Erm, Alestrial, am I drunk by the way?"


Nobody knew the Red Ape's actual name, yet he rightfully cowed all within the Twenty Second Street. That was until a sandy blond youth had the temerity in throwing down the gauntlet, the temerity to slap him straight across the face. For the sake of one foreign alien amounting to naught, Guy Cody was willing to brave fire and ice, let alone massive giants amounting to naught.

However, Guy was not a fool, he understood where an adopted child's right lies. And said right never included any sliver of inheritance unless majority of the decision makers deemed whatever share appropriate. Bluntly put, Alestrial Eliaden was nothing more than a worthless whore, anything written in Louthes Eliaden's will would amount to little, if not nil.

"Hey, loser! Throw it, will'ya? You're no match for my boys," sneered the redhead, his cronies still pelting punches and kicks upon an undefeated lion staying stubborn.

"Hey, loser!" grinned Guy Cody in a manner not so different, "What's with the hair? Dyed orange like a retard? No wonder you remind me of someone intellectually challenged."

Mockery like for like bringing forth anger, anger soon brought forth a fool. Guy Cody knew this simple fundamental of war albeit he did not know how or when. The Red Ape was not a stupid person, he was nothing more than a certified fool and nobody. Orders were sent promptly to his underlings, he strode forward to mete out the final judgment. A punch fast and brutal cracked the bridge of his nose, the Red Ape's instinct finally kicking in. Five hooligans were already floored with no questions asked, no prisoners were taken. Arrogance had costed him victory, he should not have told his followers to let go of the boy. From the moment where the rest scrambled back to form a defensive wall around their leader, the battle had gone to the truly strong.

"Yeah, I know she's a Cinha, a False Noble due to her rights as an adopted child," smiled the cub soon to be a lion deviously, his blood as spittle spat onto the ground, "I'm no religious goody-two shoes, I'm not gonna find excuses for sticking a metal pole right into your ass."

With those words, a lion's roar and his pride untamed bared to the fore a full glory wild. Forceful kicks were his claws, punches hard as steel were his fangs. Scavenging cowards ended up as prey to the hunter, the lion now stared down a trembling ape. A narrow alley was to be Guy Cody's battleground, there was no chance in hell of an escape with his back faced against the exit. Walls awaiting a red dawn painted by blood, words from either combatant pitted themselves against one another.

This is merely a sixteen year old skippy under Merseyside's roof, the Red Ape whispered fearfully to himself.

This is merely a Cinha ape looking like a big ass orange, Guy Cody whispered gleefully to himself.


"Eh, I really envy you, Ales," sighed a petite brunette while munching on her favourite chicken pastry, "But honestly, are you serious in saying that you don't care about this award? It's the highest award given to the cream of the crop! I mean only those truly good with words are qualified!"

"Joenne, my work has never been about awards," sighed Alestrial as her bowl of creamy mushroom soup was swiftly finished, "I know you're happy for me and I've just gotten Karen's congratulatory note as well. But..."

"But your portrayal of the True Apostles... they really sound like an omnipotent race!" gushed Alestrial's puppy eyed friend.

"Of course! 'Tis not much a tall ask for the judge panel, for men will always be men. A Cinha bitch blessed with ass and tits will only send the correct message to their appendages hardened. So how many men have pleased our dearest winner in her most heated throes?"

Upon slanderous remarks released like caged beasts freed, Alestrial Eliaden could only maintain a stoic silence. In contrast, Joenne Nances was no amused lady. Standing up to a statuesque beauty, a round of sniggers were to be the only plaudits affordable. A victory most desirable smirking like a thief, Mayweather Lucs continued playing up her haughtiness in the face of a harmless target awaiting further humiliation.

"Well, am I not telling the truth? Our dearest princess here can never measure up to the highest standard. We all know that too well," the tall golden blond spread out her arms, honeyed venom dripping with intent to hurt, "A False Noble means an adopted noble, an adopted child. What more can a princess of trash loved only by trash offer?"

"Hypocritical cow..." snarled Joenne as her best friend flashed her a worried look, "She's inferring you as a harlot and yet there she is, flashing her covered up tits!"

"Hush, Joenne!" whispered Alestrial, "Uncle Cruax will ground you once more if your choice of language gets leaked again."

Joenne only remained silent, her barely disguised hatred justifying that loathsome viper flapping her gums.

"Allow me to remind every worthy gentleman and lady in this dining hall on what the Kalaran Dream means for a wench: winning at all costs, winning as a pretty slut,” hot blooded barbs calling for Alestrial’s honeyed warmth erupted beyond self control, the bold Causacean delivered her finishing stroke, “Do you not agree as well, flat little Jo? I do believe our only worthy winner of the year will agree with me."

Before stinging contempt showered by the future Duchess of Coles, Alestrial could only stand her ground firmly. Rules of racial physique dictating a petite build reaching till Mayweather's eye level, the entire crowd soon hushed themselves up. The most anticipated drama of the semester finally kicking off, no one would want to see the drama cut short by any disciplinary mistress. A single moment akin to an hour etched, Alestrial Eliaden suddenly chose to tear asunder that silent wall.

"Maistress Mayweather of House Lucs, forgive my insolence as I put forth this ask of mine."

"Fine, please do," agreed Mayweather, sneering derision reinforced by a derisive flick of hand, "But please do not soil my better propriety, for more oft than not have I heard inciting rumours on Cinha ladies stealing decent men."

"Word has it that you are getting married soon. A union of marriage unifying House Lucs with House Pardue," commented Alestrial quietly, a gentle whisper trying to peer inside her opponent’s soul, "Pray tell then, your hopes for your children after you."

"Huh?" queried Mayweather, her slip of frailty went unheeded bar the only Cinha False Noble at hand, "What are you trying to imply? That I'll end up with some other man apart from my fiancé? Surely you do know the consequences of slander, whore!"

"Thankfully for my father's House, 'tis quite the opposite. My question here is merely a simple one, some may even say a mundane one," Alestrial's expression gradually softened, burning fires of sympathy swiftly forging the keenest blade, "What is the only thing you want? What is the only thing you want for your children after the kiss of death has claimed your living breath?"

The Cinha fawn's tone quavered for a split instance, her piercing words a dual edged sword, "I believe we can only at best leave behind things perishable for those after us, those who will be like us. So again pray tell then, what is your only dream? Is it this empty path you are straying onto now, or mayhap something else?"

Envious denial abruptly stung Alestrial’s face, the source of reprisal being a comely noble lady twisted into a vengeful crone.

"Do not use this preaching on me, wench!" shrieked Mayweather Lucs, a loss of self control making her scorned ire more apparent, "What do you know about me apart from knowledge made public? Are you laughing at my divorced parents or are you laughing at me being a child of ten?"

"You have subjected yourself under the yoke of both, have you not noted?" reasoned a fervent Alestrial, gentle orbs of darkest brown refusing to imitate her counterpart, "True, a bitter end to an union doomed to fail should always be a scar. Yet, be it for better or worse, escape can never be your life's option. Questions of what-if will only be countless what-ifs, so do not enslave yourself any further more!"

Compassion uncomprehensible by mortal eyes created a reminder duly delivered in the name of a famous ideology. This was where Erasmus Eliaden had built his fame upon, this was where Alestrial had staked her rightful claim as a daughter of House Eliaden.

Indeed even the greatest earthquake wreaked could never match a subtle shock rippling within every watcher's spine, for all had already consigned themselves unto the darkest exile guided by demons trapped. And the worst part was that nobody paid attention to it. As spectators began recovering from a mental shock capable of healing even the most grievous wounds, the Cinha fawn continued her speech without turning back.

Because I can no longer look back over my shoulder...

"Let me ask you this: can one reverse the hand of time? Since we can only derive an answer most bitter, why then are you still bitter? Is it a sense of struggling or a sense of failure? If you are unwilling to confront your bitterness, then surely everything you love will stumble,” Alestrial took a pause, her eyes gently closed before resuming her unwavering gaze once again, “You are still capable of loving in the very first place because you are still capable of crying till this day."

Silence assumed the form of an inner hell shackling Mayweather Lucs, her desire to scream out in self vindication and strip naked that daring foreign wench being the only way out. Not only was jealousy her hallowed ground, but above all ethnic superiority as part of the Causacean majority counted for naught. Taming the chaotic vortex within her helpless soul a luxury unaffordable, a mere Cinha lady no different from a smallborne girl turned out to be a living portrait of beauty redefined.

She saw a complexion rivalling the fairest of maids with loose raven curls belittling her straight locks of woven gold, this was a fight Mayweather Lucs could never win. She witnessed a gentle presence hidden behind a doe eyed visage, this was a dream Mayweather Lucs could never attain. She contemplated holding back, but Mayweather Lucs knew this would be tantamount to admitting defeat.

And to think a single lad birthed from a smallborne’s womb was able to make this possible...


An audible crack gifted from impact's brunt, the daring lad wore a carefree grin as his victim number four was taken down. Egged on by personal rules most would frown upon, the cocky lad continued taunting that thrice damned drunkard loudly with two middle fingers rudely raised.

In spite of elite education barring her association with any smallborne plying their trade, Mayweather Lucs held an instant liking for that lone brawler. The Kalaran Way was all about meritocracy associated with relevant upbringing, the lad was a brave man awaiting recognition. Many perceived such impetuous figures to be hoodlums out for a good time, fourteen year old Mayweather doubted not the dare glinting within his sapphire orbs.

As for that aging drunk, she only despised him for what he is. A scavenger laying grounds unsubstantiated as her mother's lover. This was a thieving scum who destroyed her family without shedding a drop of blood six years ago, now he's demanding for more. She tried rejecting his lies, he ended up refuting her claims. Yet if she was truly of his brood, she would have nothing worthy to fight for.

Nevertheless, Mayweather Lucs grinned smugly in front of a snivelling leech crushed mercilessly by a passing lion’s stomp. To think Toma Routedge still deemed himself as alive, wriggling, and prideful. Most surprisingly however, there's no logic behind Guy Cody gatecrashing Routedge's merry little party and that's not mentioning the Watch possibly on patrol.

 As roosters heralded the following morn, a young lion was released with nary a hassle whilst a headless corpse was left rotting in a dank alleyway.

Neither to forgive nor forget, House Lucs would always make right the price for any transgression incurred.


"You really like him, don't you?" whispered a lonely Alestrial robed as she stepped out from her bath, Mayweather’s painful wail hours ago continued drenching her warm bleeding heart with hurtful cold, "Indeed he is someone capable of bestowing courage onto others. People might see him as a nobody, but we both know better a lion slumbering amongst men when we see one."


"Erm, what do you mean by expendable energy? Surely that doesn't bode well for my future with Alestrial?"

Lukas Brun recalled the moment where vain attempts in explaining the concept of exhaustion to Guy were intended as a parting gift prior to dropping out of Merseyside. Inexplicably, the sandy blond’s stamina level had always been an anomaly. On his day, he could easily run up till three miles or more without wheezing. Once his mood was down however, incapacitation ended up as the only term apt.

Cruel taunts and bigotry exposed right before his face since young, a series of painful experience became Lukas' only motivation. Certain people would always be considered different, the androgynous brunette was definitely a victim suffering under conflicting sexual orientations not of his doing. Come at the very end, only three individuals accounted themselves true in defending him. Two of them were already dead, Guy Cody was the last man standing. If only that living wreck sitting before his sombre gaze wasn't Guy himself. Yet, there was something hidden beneath Guy which unsettled Lukas. His blond friend did not down the shots like how they should be downed, he ended up wasting half an hour to finish a single glass instead.

Just like how one drinks a slowburner...

The Drowning Bear was Lukas' only property, his only way of eking out a living. It was a humble bar decently kept where plenty of drinks were on offer, but with little rich fare offered as well. Life as a man whore, however, was out of question and Lukas had never been that daring to try things out. Most others like him were not that fortunate, Lukas could only thank the late Bruno Black for teaching him how to be a bartender. That was despite Bruno being a heterosexual and a family man. The resultant wrangling between father and his only son was not for pleasant viewing though, but at least Bruno did make his will clear enough. So long for a bar owner not being clever enough.

"Wait a sec... so you're saying that I end up bashing a hobo where in fact I got the wrong target?"

"Seems that way to me and Catts. Sorry for causing this fool's errand."

"But that doesn't seem right. I noticed a glint... crap! He scooted off! You laid on the wrong bet, So-dumb!"

So-dumb. Such being a term always reserved for people stupid enough to jump the bandwagon. It was also around that time that Lukas met Bruno. The homosexual smiled wistfully as he remembered what made their fateful meeting came true.

"Hey, I did that big bear some real favour! Turns out that the mugger robbing Uncle Parky was the same bugger banging big bear's daughter. Wait a holy sec... I busted a fucking rapist! No wonder big bear wants to talk to you!"

Image of Guy's lean muscular back reclining against the wall had always stuck in Lukas' brain, that most infectious grin plastered on his face had been a constant cause for optimism. It was under this surrealistic moment where he conjured up a jape lamenting the sandy blond not swinging towards the same end. Unexpectedly, Guy Cody just laughed it off loudly as his blunt declaration made in reply verily got both into two days worth of trouble.

That was why there could be only one Guy Cody, any other person would easily have his knives out and bared.

Yes, this should be the Guy Cody I know of, not this beast now dressed in human clothes.


Alestrial Eliaden could only stare in wide eyed shock, the once beautiful form leeringly warped beyond redemption. They say hell has no fury like a noble lady scorned, Alestrial continued believing such an idiom to be partial fallacy. Mayweather Lucs was indeed a noble lady, but she wasn't scorned. Merely an abandoned little girl crying for a home, she had yet to find an abode belonging to herself.

The Cinha lass knew not what had materialised Mayweather's hideous nature, she only felt fear akin to a rabbit trapped by a serpent's hungry stare. To any hot blooded man worth his boasts, Mayweather would definitely come across as an alluring existence ten times more. To Alestrial Eliaden however, she only saw an unchanged form whose skin had assumed a bluish hue. Her eyes became the palest blue, her waist length golden hair being the only feature left untouched.

Altruism has no place in this world, Ales. Why don't we go on an outing you'll never forget?

Those were the kind of words Alestrial was forced in getting used to, her body becoming every single noble lad's object of conquest. Ever since she reached maidenhood, she had to tread carefully and shrewdly. Guy Cody could never be watching her back from dawn till dusk, a girl had to be wise in order not to fall foul of any lust driven scheme. Mayweather Lucs, however, was not to be that unfortunate. She had her own status as a True Noble, she had her own Home Guards flanking her. Even in school where such a practice was regarded as an unorthodox pomp, one would always see two of such soldiers guarding her boarding room. Alestrial Eliaden would have been debased to a mere toy for men had not certain rules on propriety being enforced mercilessly. Yet, she might be greeting a current sight most possibly worst.

Mayweather Lucs is no longer part of her House, Mayweather Lucs is no longer human. Death... I am staring at death... a torturous death.

"Pray tell please, my lady fair…" cooed the malicious blond, delicate fingers trailing a caress down her own tear streaked face, "Why do you have that prize rightfully mine? Why should your hands be holding tight all that is rightfully mine? Why is it I can't embrace anything real, anything warm, anything to love?"

Damning questions asked from an innocent victim damned, Alestrial Eliaden confirmed at last the most curse worthy reason shaping Mayweather's life. It had nothing to do with her past as a child cut open by broken shards of harmony, but rather he who could have healed her suffering wounds. The adopted daughter of House Eliaden tried her utmost best in saving this unknowing soul, she ended up denying cruelly her patient’s sole chance of being truly alive. She attempted convincing herself the future consort of Senator Atkins Pardeu to be a marooned victim not yet cut adrift, but reality as the judge had already sentenced Mayweather Lucs to the public gallows. The die already cast, Alestrial could now see the score. Frozen on the spot with Mayweather's frigid touch amounting to death, everything evaporated into absolute void...

"So that's my target, huh? Bloody asshole... I swear his ass will have an additional hole after I'm done with this."

"Who goes..." before a startled Mayweather could finish her words, a hand sheathed in gauntlet grey gripped her jaw violently.

As the unknown assailant slammed her back hard against a nearby oak, reaction jerked forth a field of magic consuming every surrounding life. Flora withered and fauna reduced to silent husks, all dried up like fruits preserved save for Alestrial and that stranger dark.

"A half-assed bounded field with a half-assed result."

Vicious words murmured in reply to his quarry's rage, he casually tossed her over Alestrial's head. A timely recovery amounting to naught, a lady noble born was sent bouncing across the ground via strength belonging to a rogue.

An abrupt assault bringing about a prolonged shock, not only did Mayweather Lucs end up getting her breath knocked off her lungs, cocksure confidence minutes prior was dismantled in a blinking of an eye. A beauty warped beyond hope tried staging a late retaliation, her abdomen was instead ripped deftly apart by a blade of crackling blue. Entrails bared and visible under the twinkling stars, Mayweather Lucs’ worst fear was finally confirmed with nary a respite. Terror spun an endless melody haunting her mind, she knew this was a fight unwinnable. Left with one other option, an otherwise fatal wound failed to stop her from seizing Alestrial hostage.

"Heh, a wound like that and yet to croak like a frog. Same old shit never gets boring," grinned the hunter, his icy blue orbs exposing the only fate awaiting the two, "A bummer to see Aor not telling you about the real big boys, eh?"

Ao… Aor! He knows Aor! That knave of a demon Elf has foreseen everything despite sealing a Geis with me!

With cold hard truth coursing all over her veins, her mind was fast eroding. The tragic lady of House Lucs could only set down a desperate ultimatum.

"One more step and she dies!"

In answer to her screaming denial, the dark swordsman gave a chortle as his reply.

"Do you think I care whether your little kitten lives or dies? You can taste her tits for all you want and no one will give a shit."

He was right. He would not care a single bit if whatever limited knowledge on the True Apostles wasn't a mistake. Mayweather only knew that much though, for Aor was a stingy giver. Then the stranger let down his hood, an alluring countenance stealing both taker and hostage's breath away.

"Do I look like a servant of light to you? My hair is white, but my skin is dark. Guess my heart is black as well..."

"No, please... I beg you... let me go..." sobbed Mayweather uncontrollably, her vice like grip never easing away from Alestrial's slender neck, "I'm merely a pawn."

"And so am I, dear girl," came a cruel smirk, "I have the balls, do you have any? Oops, I forgot you're a girl. A pretty much fucked up little girl."

"Take her then!" wailed a tearful lady before a smiling death, "Take Alestrial Eliaden! You can fuck her and taste her! You can do anything to her!"

"And what if I say no?" the maniacal grin soon vanished without a trace, "Will you want to please me in exchange? You're merely a cunt, I can find pleasures far better in a whorehouse."

"You bastard..." wept Mayweather now utterly broken.

"You're right, I'm a bastard," murmured the hunter before his prey, "So are you and everybody else living in this world. Any last words?"

"Don't hurt Mayweather please!" called out Alestrial, "She's merely a victim!"

"A cowardly victim," corrected the stranger, his expressionless face casting a far larger shadow onto Alestrial's heart, "Cowards have no place in a forest where only wolves dwell."

Alestrial Eliaden went speechless immediately, Mayweather Lucs could only care about her current plight. As for the murderous knave twirling a snowy lock with an index finger, he took it as an omen.

"Isn't it sad, my little fawn? I'd like to try your ass and tits, but I've got far urgent matters at hand," sighed the expressionless swordsman, a finger pointed against his target, “Like that fair lady holding you hostage.”

Mayweather Lucs foresaw her time was up, her mind inflamed with destruction, murder, and ruin. She could only perceive a fiery lake, everything she loathed was burning alive. Alestrial Eliaden, Toma Routedge, Atkins Pardeu... everyone who caused her suffering.

A cold bounded field expanding outwards, physical contact incurred a sudden change. Everything and nothing had been there all the while, this was the only answer given to the world. A bolt of lightning fired from an azure blade rifting all apart, searing pain knifed through both ladies one noble and the other not.

"Life ain't fair to all and everyone. Sucks to send you down the cellar since I'd shag you tired if I ain't broken..."

Those were the final words Alestrial Eliaden heard before an ocean of azure fire consumed her and a shrieking Mayweather alike.


I see him once more again, he is now prepared for a long journey ahead. His life, his mentor, and his newly acquired blade… everything about him seems unchanged. In spite of his younger look, I know he still remains broken and crying.

And his elderly teacher’s words as well.

"He has never meant to be hero, yet he died like one. Perhaps you're the only one worthy of the Answerer."


Like that sudden flash of lightning, Alestrial jolted from her own bed’s warmth. A brief fit of profuse breathing ensued as she finally recalled that one person nearly killing her. The True Apostle met during their fateful meeting seven years ago. For this reason alone, she could not bear to hate him despite whatever said or done.

Call me twisted if you want to, but I know his azure orbs are nothing more than a testimony of pain.

No sooner had her thoughts completed a fruitless voyage, Alestrial heard a loud commotion down below. She recognised Guy Cody’s voice, she recognised the tone of a lion goaded. Determined not to lose her sight on the brash lad known for six years running, a dishevelled Cinha maiden bolted from her room's comfort in a bid to resolve any turmoil outside.

Mayweather is now gone forever, thus I cannot let go of Guy's hand no matter what.

As she reached the vast living hall hastily, her mind drifted away as Guy was forcefully restrained by the surrounding Home Guards. However, the sandy blond wasn't the sole reason staying her wild eyed gaze. A smirking Elf spotting short white hair and a complexion bronzed stood before her, Alestrial Eliaden's racing heart suddenly skipped a beat.

You're not the monster others made you out to be...

Because I can still see the clarity in your eyes.


Background notes:

Slowburner is basically the strongest form of ale where the only way of consumption would be downing one entire tankard in slowly. Due to a much higher alcoholic density, slowburner brew is known to create a warm feeling in the drinker's stomach.

A/N: I revamped the idea b/c I suddenly enjoy the idea of creating a beer version of vodka. Also, I suddenly remembered getting drunk and vomiting during one NSF chalet outing. Steve Ang, I know you can be my witness b/c I not lying.

The Home Guards are basically your personal guards where the nobility is involved.

A/N: Yes, this is Magic the Gathering all over again.

False Noble is a formal term used for children adopted into a noble family. Without a doubt used in a derogatory sense. Not to be confused with Humble Noble where this term is used in referring to the lower class nobility.

Senator is actually an additional title conferred upon selected nobles representing their respective areas in the Imperial Parliament, i.e. the court of the Empire. Interestingly enough, daughters married into a Senator's family will actually gain a prestige title based on the name of any land under said Senator's jurisdiction.

A/N: No, this very concept has nothing to do with America. Know your history and you'll know everything.

And lastly, is it any wonder by now that racism is very real in The Known World? Or maybe just about in every human society in our world anyway as a certain Borat Sagdiyev had proven via that most infamous racist song. In fact, xenophobia truly exists in contemporary fantasy as well. Don't believe me, go try imagining yourself dating a sexy Night Elf, be your target girl or guy. Not even Broxigar Saurfang himself got to be that damned lucky enough to score with a random Night Elf chick. -.-'

A/N: The part on Red Ape was amended due to my determination to show the whole wide world that even people from the same ethnicity can easily choose to trample upon each another. In short, where there is a will, there always will be a way. Let's give human nature a hand. -_-