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.

Thursday, 30 May 2013

Lore: The Four Expertise (Part 3)

Saw CNA crew lanjah around in GH. Dunno why. Even GIC dept managed to clear everything before 5.30...

They say only a coward will snipe his enemy from afar, for only duels unto death is fitting for a soldier, let alone a knight. Thus, those employing such tactics in war will be despised by those not understanding war. Yet, try asking any man who survived a battlefield and he will say an arrow straying on purpose saved his life. Seemingly derisive towards rangesmen, only fools having nothing to lose will believe it as such. Hence, a fool is not one justified by acts alone, but with words without purpose.

There are rangesmen able to shoot from distance like ordinary soldiers, there will always be Archers as well. There are better rangesmen boasting of hitting any target from hundred paces off, the least amongst any Archers can hit a fast moving target within fifty steps. As for the greatest Archers known or alive, it is whispered that they can even shoot while running full speed, their aim akin to a hawk sighting its prey fleeing in swiftest flight. 

They say if a longbow can shoot this far, an Archer can enhance its range by half at least.

They say if a crossbow bolt fired can penetrate this much, an Archer can increase its damage by half at least. 

They say if arrows from a cavalry bow can cover a vast wide arc, an Archer can hasten the rate by half at least.

Nature of weapon choice:
Longbow: Arguably the most commonly used, a longbow possesses superior range and above average firing rate. Able to cover linear distance within hundred paces, anywhere beyond this range will result in an arcing shot capable of delivering a lethal head shot. Teutonians are especially known to favour longbows due to Teutonia being mostly bordered by forest terrain and high ground. A variation of longbow is the flatbow used mainly by the Aegil Orden, and some say, the elusive Fianna as well.

Crossbow: The second most lethal ranged weapon, crossbows have a firing reach better than even the best longbow made. However, loading one will take a longer time, hence its tactical value being higher in comparison. At the same time, crossbow bolts are known to have immense penetration power against armoured forces.

Cavalry bow: Composite bows made for horse archers. Slarveans are especially feared as a military force due to light cavalry being their tactical mainstay. The Sagittarii of Kalaran Empire and the Cinha Minamoto are also rightfully respected by their fellow peers via their own bow mastery. A variation of cavalry bow is the hunting bow where such bows are used on foot by hunters.

Gun: There are two types of guns, pistol and musket. Utilising the flintlock mechanism, guns by far have the deadliest firing range and damage. Pistols have a short firing range with a heavy-duty handle meant as an alternate blunt weapon. Muskets have the longest firing range with the butt used in the same manner as pistols during hand-to-hand combat. Reloading time is extremely slow where terrain disadvantage will certainly punish any tactical mistake severely. Guns are an unique trait in marine warfare where Histalonia is the sole supplier, hence the presence of foreign merchants reaching its shores.

Innate abilities
An Archer can create a bounded field in the same manner as executing Magic. Effects can vary from direct damage to enemy hindrance, from healing to positive enhancement.

At the same time, they have the highest level of running stamina and speed among all four Expertise where outrunning any danger short of cavalry pursuit is a tactical must should they flee on foot.

Lastly, they are able to increase either their weapons' maximum firing range, firing rate or damage dealt. Some Archers, however, are known to have any or all of three combined.

Tactics and strategy:
The core of any Archer lies in taking advantage of any given situation rather than direct engagement. Archers are renowned analysts able to plan on their feet. No matter how dire any given adversity, an Archer is more certain than not to reverse whatever disadvantage at hand.

Identification and seizing control of favourable terrain also highlights an Archer's exceptional acumen in strategy, for more often than not, terrain will have a profound impact on every battle fought.

Concealment tactics involve natural cover and infiltration where information is gathered. Hidden sniping both afar and near is more than capable to incite massive casualties via creating chaos and stampede. Sniping is often done in small groups known as cells, but going solo is also plausible due to rare occasions of assassination.

But perhaps what truly set Archers apart from the rest is their status as masters of deception. Every war is not won by honour and chivalry, but rather through lying and cheating. Deceiving an enemy successfully is a battle won, one vital assault is more than enough in turning the tide. Thus, it's often said that Archers are the poorest fighters, but they make good leaders in war.

"A lie cannot remain forever, a good liar understands the value of truth."
~Heihou no Tae'geuk

Notable Archers


Ability parallel


Ability parallel

Fanwanking-b/c no-life lobo is worth it:

Leon Talonarc

Tristan Ajax

Tuesday, 28 May 2013

Hey, let's do some racism!!!! (Part BE)

Note: Lately, there has been news of a 50K SGD rule. Ofc this won't affect this bloke-master here since I ain't a reporter (unless we're talking abt a certain Rogue Economist alter-ego). But still... let's do some racism=50K XP



And lastly all the big ****s[*]
[*] Mr Carl Jan de Vries, you're the first and only bloke informing me of this term's existence. That was back during our 32 SIB era where 90% of the office population are certified longzong-siao.

Current biggest **** aka (ex) Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas:
Lor'themar Theron
Current 2nd in biggest **** aka current Ranger-General of Silvermoon:
Halduron Brightwing
Original (2x confirmed mati) biggest ****:
Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider

Most recent global big ****s

Merciless Aria

You're lucky enough not to see what this world has to offer. You're a kindhearted girl, Lol. Try not to wield any weapon before anyone, for showing an enemy mercy means being cruel to yourself.
~Lars Alterfate


A Ranger's Tale


“The boy is already a Lancer, Aeranath.”

“Fuck you, Ziron. This wasn’t supposed to be…”

“Part of the script? Moron! You should have expected it one decade back!”

“Don’t call me a moron, senile ass.”

“Oh, but you truly are. Listen, Aeranath. There’s no turning back now, you have to face your own mistake. Hopefully sooner rather than later and don’t ever say I didn’t warn you.”


A single flash of blue, a single flare of gold, an edge forged from the storms clashing with mortality's barb. A desolated garden bringing forth shining arms' piercing ring, there was no reason for Aeranath to show any mercy. This was not Louthes Eliaden, the boy before his azure gaze would surely request no quarters given. The lion’s enemy had never been that Grand Damsel, the lone wolf desired only a duel, nothing else.

Appearing on the Lancer’s left, Aeranath nearly disembowelled a brave young lad. His move intercepted, the lion nearly ripped a thrust into the True Apostle's throat. Neither committed himself hence after, hunters most feral tested each other akin to a predator toying with its defiant prey.

The young lion pounced first, Aeranath deflecting away Gae Buidhe’s slash. The lad stayed unfazed while ploughing forward, fortitude and strength flowing like a rapid stream throughout his pulsating soul.

The wild wolf bared its fangs and took a step forward, his opponent's neck nicked by an arcing slash. Unmoved by a tactical advantage forcefully gained, Aeranath’s sadistic grin was non-existent.

Guy grounded his teeth in rage, dodging should be on the cards instead. He tried bearing down a hated foe, evasion otherwise would not just only buy him a sliver of time, but a well-timed strike. An understanding now dawned upon him, for sometimes only the most insane were capable of sound judgment in taking risks.

Then the most dreaded moment came. Wounds opening up from every direction, the lion knew that knave was toying with him. He could have been killed easily within three strokes of asking, but…

Son of a bitch…

Pain became his only friend, his only shield, his only fire of courage. Withstanding every slash and thrust like a dead boy scarred, a man was surely rising up from the grave.

No, I must win. I must win and nothing else.

No longer contented in suffering like a mindless martyr, Guy reinforced his purpose once again. There's only this much he could take, there's only this much he needed to. A blank state of mind conceiving a judgment never before experienced, the lion of Teesside caught a subtle hint.

Things ain’t that simple… Scholes once said that every mean has a certain risk, every power demands a certain price.

Was it a gamble taken or mayhap a risk taken with prudence? Aeranath would never obtain the answer to his own questions, but he saw through something with an unknowing smile. Blood trickling from lips tightly pressed, Gae Buidhe struck its tip into his abdomen true. Not a fatal thrust, for a gloved hand managed to grab the shaft. No blood was wept, no pain was felt, but Aeranath knew a portion of his life was gone.

A wound shrivelling like an old man’s cock… shit indeed happens, way to go, Aeranath.

Sadistic glee assailed Guy, an opening carved out through a cautious mind waiting to be exploited. Under reckless guise, whatever anyone could accomplish, the sandy blond can do better. Aeranath, on the other hand, only grinned with a serene calm, for the True Apostle had witnessed a full grown man beneath a hapless boy’s tomb.

Yet, it would only be a matter of time where the Ranger will surely lay dead. Gae Buidhe as a Grail was no stranger to him, Aeranath could only applaud his rotten luck and a fortunate strike. Back forcing against a crumbled wall, the True Apostle finally knew the meaning of fortune favouring the bold.

The same shit ten years ago… well, blow me down on pledging my blood. Cause and effect is an overrated bitch.

A fatal thrust driving through, the fateful hit failed its aim. This had never been about combat fought under close quarter, a Lancer’s advantage swiftly becoming the Fencer’s escape. With neither a show of abrupt pause nor sudden shock, Aeranath calmly ducked beneath a killing blow timed too slow. Bogged down by an error unforced, Gae Buidhe’s tip struck an echoing ring against the alabaster wall.

Wall ain’t destroyed, isn’t that sad?

Cynical jape unsaid from heart, the wolf lashed out with a simple thrust. The lion replied in like, his spear suddenly changing its course. A ringing rap resonated true as a longsword got deftly parried, Aeranath retreated back.

As Guy circled away, Aeranath struck once more. This time round, he was prepared. His enemy disappearing suddenly, the Golden Barb of Mortality lashed back from behind. Sapphire eyes widened in shock, Guy Cody realised too late that this was only a feint.

Aeranath smiled with a taken step backward, his back crouched and shoulders tensed. Getting himself barely a whisker away from harm, this was the measure of one living through death, blood, and wilderness.

Dumb luck be damned, let all dumb mutts have their day instead. Once a wolf, forever a wolf.

A cut across the throat would do the trick nicely, the young lion was lucky enough to be standing on an open field. The other side of his neck receiving a similar treatment, bluish fire simmered within Guy Cody’s orbs. Then a deadly duel got stopped halfway.

“Why did you let me live? Answer me!”

If Guy was expecting an insane reaction from an insane slaughterer, a sane response was granted instead.

“Because I could have killed you if I wanted to. I let you off the hook two times, isn’t that the correct answer?”

“Fuck you, bastard! I don’t care who you target, but no one messes my friends around!” snarled a lion straining against invisible chains.

“And they’re all dead,” came the casual reply, “Dead people don’t need anything apart from a pretty graveyard. You’re still alive, it means you don’t need to die.”

“Don’t give me this bullshit…”

“Try having your broad talking the same bullshit then. I’m sure you won’t refute the exact words spoken from her dainty lips,” the Ranger’s casual stance was no more, his blade gripped tightly and lowered slightly, “If you think I’m insulting Lady Alestrial of House Eliaden here, then I reserve the right to question your intellect or rather the lack thereof.”

Everything was still a haze, but at least the sandy blond saw his words touching a raw nerve. He never understood the enigma staring back at him, there’s no point trying to do so as well. However, this was a duelling stance never before seen. Strong legs setting apart, a sword was held diagonally upright.

Remember, Guy Cody. The world is before you, it is also beyond you. I have fought countless battles, big and small. People called me the Northern Lion and my local townsfolk worshipped this very same lion. But a lion may not even get to see a wolf in his entire lifetime and I’m not talking about the Grand Empire Park.

A lion consumed by hatred, a wolf caught in throes of battle lust, both yearned for combat's call. First the lion’s nod and next the wolf, boiling blood and burning souls renewed a deadly dance of circling steps.

"What do you desire, boy?"

"Your head."

An exchange brief soon gave way to how the Viscount of Springall earned his mocking title. He had no mother, he had no love. He had a father, he had prestige and all. Hailed as a young man blessed, sneered in the dark as a bastard, only two likeminded youths professed their admiration for this empty soul.

They wined and dined to their hearts' content, they raped and murdered to their hearts' content. Three were caught by witness’ eyes, two of them acquitted by the law. His father left him for dead, rightful justice forcing down his throat the bitterness of death. Younger Springall condemned by them all, younger Springall cursed them all. None suffered a single loss, his two unnamed friends torn and mutilated by entity unknown. Even Springall senior was not spared, fearful whispers directed blame unto the Demons themselves. Herein was the place where their last victim breathed her last, the very place whence a craven trio screamed their last.

Sarel Aphros was the one reminding Aeranath of such a story, but Ziron was the first and only person telling him the tale. Aeranath might be despised as a murderer more than others, but Viscount of Springall the Ranger was not meant to be. The aging Lord of the Lancers had spoken, Aeranath laughing it off. Yet, the urge to ask young Guy Cody his only question remained an undying flame, the last True Apostle’s wish finally realised.

"There are two ways to die. Either through a meaningful life or as a gutter trash, what is your choice?"

Innocuous inquiry brought forth perceived mockery, Guy Cody could never trust Aeranath and he would never trust Aeranath. He remembered smoking carcasses charred and Alestrial weeping behind him, he remembered those alive together the murderer before his sapphire eyes.

Was the wolf truly laughing at a lion's honour? The majestic beast believed it so, the dastardly creature in front of him could deny it for all he cared. Justice had to be served, a life in exchange for many butchered. Number games be damned, a merchant was never a judge.

He smelt roasted flesh, he saw charring bones. The sight created in him feelings more powerful than unease, scent of smouldering tragedy made him gag. Barely recognising his band of brothers, he could only discern a blackened ring. He remembered Catts brimming with pride, he remembered Elys’ smile. And it just had to end this way, buried beneath flames and maniacal laughter sung as a dirge.

Glittering gold flared into a crimson red, mortality revealing a glory sevenfold. A whisper laced with anticipation replied to a humane roar, Aeranath could lastly smile without donning a mask.

"The spear of gold and crimson... guess we're in for an interesting ride, huh? Maybe it wasn't down to dumb luck that you survived the roasting back then..."


"So the real show starts now."

Neither wolf nor lion noticed a ghostly figure hidden from afar, his whispers directed towards their fatal duel. Ziron, Lord of the Lancers, mentor to the wolf, one whose Truth belonged to a falcon. He was the sole individual knowing both Grails currently owned, their wielders being the two combatants tearing into each other.

I know Fragarach, for I gifted you the Answerer, Aeranath. Gae Buidhe's mortality, you know it as I do, Guy Cody. As for Gae Dearg’s fury, I wielded it before and no one ever said war is something merciful.


Aeranath felt Fragarach tingling uncontrollably, orbs of azure blue never leaving a raging storm of crimson red. Attrition now beyond question, the young lion's spear halted whatever momentum otherwise possible. If Fragarach could muster a response against any Vanir or Aesir, then a loophole or two must be somewhere nearby.

A Grail shouldn’t have any response against anybody apart from Demons or through the wielder’s consent… so that’s the case, huh? Fucking asshole.

Placid anger welling up against him playing out an endless game of chess, a calm sustained till now threatened to warp into a full-fledged storm. A noble lion surely deserved far better than a wolf destined to fight and die alone, yet the stakes were too high to be ignored.

Either his own life or that boy’s.

A longsword existing as his sole answer to The Known World, its power was that of absolute reprisal, its technique amounting to a miracle. Mayweather Lucs became his first victim in many a year, burden from her sins nearly crushing him for good. Drowned underneath an ocean of bluish flames, this was Aeranath’s Thaumaturgy, his inner world materialised. No one forced his hand in activating Chant of the Answerer back then, this time round was a different hand dealt.

And now this grown up boy… will he be the next?

Aeranath cursed this question resounding quietly, an answer was a luxury nigh unaffordable. He could have ended this all, his own life was there for the taking. A simple choice was the only thing required from the last True Apostle, there was no need to fight a stupid duel had he done so at the start.

You could have 'answered' this World, you do not want to. Otherwise, your quest would have ended well, your life be at peace."

"Fuck you! Aor!" howled Aeranath, a foe’s name utmost hated finally bellowed out. Paying no heed to his wound’s shrivelled state, the Ranger attempted weathering whatever weakness devouring him. Life draining away painlessly, Aeranath's denial merely exacerbated his dire straits.

A mind of steel, that’s his way of living. A spirit of steel, that’s his way of killing. A Grail of steel, that’s his way of surviving. Yet, the final True Apostle contrived to remain somewhat sane. If he could choose all over again, death would still be the only way out. If there could be any reason why he is perfectly alive and kicking, Aor would be the sole reason.

Alpha versus Omega, the First against the Last. This was an act tantamount to brazen challenge issued, this was truly about fighting authority on equal footing.

Despising this illusion forced onto him, a wolf should run rightfully free. His chains only reserved for Aeranath himself, a foolish maiden tried attempting the impossible. She failed miserably, her only family member failed as well. He also trusted in another friend close to him, said comrade proven himself as a liar.

“Aeranath… Aeranath… my… saen…”

Saen’Airo, this was how every Cinha lass would address her lover. Aeranath’s fatigue remaining true, fortitude unimaginable sustained his broken soul. The pain stayed a stranglehold, but the Ranger never cared. So long as baptism of pain got justified in the end, the last True Apostle would be content enough.

Only till that moment where you will never feel any pain shall everything be for naught.

Grinding his teeth before the source whence those words hailing from, an azure flare seared Aeranath’s muscles, bones, and all. He found no desire in snuffing out a promising life, chances of killing or to be killed increased sevenfold. Reality had no place for ideals without base, every dreamer’s merit must be earned. And Hyo’Ah always called him a dreamer searching for a home.

Aeranath returned his focus back on hand, azure glare translating to a wide arcing slash. Guy Cody’s initiative got repelled, his momentum stalled. Taunting images of those already dead, however, galvanised his fury, knowledge that he had lost every right to reverse the clock six years back goading the Lancer to a higher peak.

Uncle Parky, that looks impressive! Is that the iconic Towering Clock created by the School of Structuring?

Guy only felt a frigid rage travelling from Gae Dearg's shaft all the while, mortality had finally made way for fatality. Innate perception honed to its zenith, the Human Lancer at last understood what he’s capable of. The Lion of Teesside was now wide awake, Southgate Garrat’s parting jape proven eerily prophetic. A raging beast confined was ready to be loosed, continual surge channelled as fury unrivalled. He had yet to lose his sensibility, his focus clear as pristine falls.

One fuelled by constant rage, the other saddled with a heavy yoke. A Human capable of an act most inconceivable executed his spear mastery akin to crimson storm, the True Apostle forced to stage a rally while retaining a glimmering hope.

Few seconds passed, Gae Dearg’s thrust was followed up instantaneously by a horizontal slash. Two wounds inflicted in a momentary flash, the former penetrating Aeranath's right shoulder whilst the latter grazed his brow. Third hit piercing through empty air, Fragarach streaked forth a lightning arc as the wolf hopped back from reach. The lion stunned, Aeranath warped in front of him. Fragarach abruptly glowing red, no heat emanated from the blade. Diagonal cut swinging downward, a lesser opponent could have been easily slain. Vánagandr was an attack bypassing all manner of armour, not even a sturdy man could withstand it. Surviving the sudden blow, Guy Cody was left cursing an error self-induced. Anger directed against his own decision not to evade, a lion’s mighty war cry in turn rooted Aeranath on the spot, the wolf’s azure orbs widening in shocking awe.

Shit! He interrupted Vánagandr...

Aeranath never believed in gods, but at least he was thankful for a critical injury drawn across his sandy blond opponent’s chest. A sundering blow indeed became a portrait of a wolf destroying its prey, violent fangs portraying a bloody hunt.

Guy wasn't about to throw away his fight though. A lion was a symbol of guardianship, honour, and pride. A lion might not be a fitting comparison to a wolf in terms of endurance, but Aurelius had always been about making a final stand via minimal exertion. His Truth was a lion, Gae Buidhe was the lion’s sceptre.

Lives taken by Gae Buidhe conserved as power untapped, Gae Dearg was to be the weapon drawing power from that well. Fury never obstructing the wielder’s rationale, Guy Cody was surely its most ideal master. A deadly spear wrought in gold and crimson steel was the Golden Barb of Mortality and Crimson Thorn of Fatality, Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg.


Background notes:

Towering Clock is not just referring to one specific creation in a specific location, but rather an infrastructure present in every Kalaran settlement under Town/City status. Said creation was mentioned in the chapter, Spark And Fire, Cause And Effect.

The Grand Empire Park is quintessentially the only zoological infrastructure planned out by the School of Structuring. However, dissent coming from the School of Debating delayed the project for a year and half due to dissenters arguing that wild animals should be treated humanely. Ultimately, the plan went ahead as usual due to the park’s backers pointing out that nobody actually made any noise when it comes to hunting wild animal for sport. Completion was roughly dated thirty years prior to the story.

Vánagandr is a state of focus where only the intent to maim/kill matters most. Attacks executed this can only be evaded due to its supernatural ability in hewing through armour.

Aurelius is a sudden state of concentration lasting for a split second. By channelling one’s battle rage via the vocal cords, a cry loud as an actual lion’s roar will affect every opponent’s focus within hearing range.

Note: The Grand Empire Park is mentioned in my Wolves post under The Known World III tag. Vánagandr and Aurelius are actually part of my gameplay concept for A Ranger’s Tale RPG.


Monday, 27 May 2013


In short, I call this old news, I call this having nothing better to do. Before I kick this off Gallery post however, allow this no-life lobo to offer his congratulations towards FC Hollywood. I know I still have reservations towards their HR policy, but you'll really have to give it to Jupp "die Vereinheitlichen" Heynckes. Not to mention a certain Arjen "botak Spock" Robben.

So now onto the actual topic at hand. Remember World Cup 2010, folks (or is it 2008?). Back then, I noticed a hot girl donning an Oranje costume and I thought she's a Dutch. Well, you know the tabloids called Lianhe Wanbao and Shin Min Daily are famous for publishing miscellaneous stuff, not to mention FHM* is still alive and kicking despite it's fiercest rival Maxim locally busted. But then again, how many local footie khakis horny enough are truly curious enough?
*Still can recall a certain edition of FHM Singapore stating Boro to be Premiership no-hoper, that was b/c of Gareth Southgate screwing Engrand during Euro 96. Eerily enough, we are now in the Championship. But then again, so is Wigan now.

Proof that I no local talent, I only local bastard:
Headlines I liak boh kiu... -_-
Note: This was the photo making her famous if we're talking abt Wanbao. Or is it Shin Min?

And now on some non-footie ver...
Further proof that I only local bastard:
pls dun ask me whether nudist camp is legal in Holland.
I do know a little bit abt legal weed tho... ]:-)
2nd last pic....
Finally, no boobs angle...

P.S: I could have tried uploading a new chapter of A Ranger's Tale, but I suddenly discovered a sore need to reorganise my shit and I'm NOT talking abt time management. :(

Saturday, 25 May 2013

The Wild Hunt

Last post on Thaumaturgy till I say so otherwise. That's all.

Current list:



Upon silent plains rode steeds of Lightning
Everlasting trees bound by Life
My huntsmen are borne of Steel
Their baying hounds like Ice
I see Avalon, I see Yggdrasil
Gungnir sunders the world
A horn sounded eighteen times
Heaven roars, Hell has no abode
Let the Wild Hunt be my ode 


Friday, 24 May 2013


Me: Welcome to this Champion's League final edition of Football Broadcasting Channel. I am your host for the night, Psy-Go. Tonight, we will be discussing the greatest continental showcase of the season, the UEFA Champion's League final. But firstly, let us first take a look at how the footballing fraternity view Jose Mourinho's imminent departure. Let's go to our correspondent at the English capital of London.

Anwar Jamiladin: Thank you very much, Psy-Go. This is Anwar Jamiladin reporting live from London. It seems that unlike the general reaction from the Spanish media, the local media here has already gotten into an overdrive. The number one English tabloid, The Mooned, has already proclaimed victory in securing interviewing rights. Whether this is true or not remains to be seen since The Mooned's fiercest rival, The Security, has come out with exact claims one day after. But maybe let's hear what the Stamford Bridge faithful has to say here.

Faithful 1: Oh my god! I can't believe it! We're gonna get Jose back again all for free! God is back!

Faithful 2: I really hope we will win the Champion's League soon enough. This isn't the end of England! It's only the beginning for the Krauts!

Faithful 3: Our Russian owner employed Jose just to win the Champion's League. He failed to do so because of ex-Soviet Union elements interfering with us! Di Matteo won us that Holy Grail last time round, have we heard of God punishing Galahad? One Monty Python is more than enough, thank you very much!

Faithful 4: Not holding out my hopes here. Special people will always rebel against any not so special system. Jose is the Special One, I don't see anything special about sacking managers. For fuck's sake, we should have gotten Ferguson! That way, Roman would have sacked him within three months and Manchester United will never have him back as well!

Faithful 5: We should have gotten Van Persie, we ended up with Torres instead. Rafa? Who cares about Rafa? His only merit was to revive Torres halfway from the dead! But at least El Nino didn't go tits up the same way like Sheva last time round.

Anwar Jamiladin: Well, that's some rabid process of surveying. But anyway, it seems now that I'm living in Paris all over again. This is Anwar Jamiladin reporting from London.

Me: Well, so now let's talk about the real matter at hand. 25th of May will be the day where Germany shall sing God Save the Queen. So here we have in the studio now two renowned pundits, one a Chinese and the other a Japanese. On my right, we have Kantou Eirou. On the left we've got Willy Hung. So, Eirou-san, what's your take on the final being held at Wembley?

Kantou Eirou: Firstly, I suspect that you're a Korean despite you holding a British passport. Now with this out of the way, let me say that Bayern Munich shouldn't be viewed as the default favourite. You see, by setting up shop in a posh hotel across the English Channel, the Bavarians are actually playing mind games with Die Schwarzgelben. In short, it's called winding people up. Sir Alex Ferguson tried that before, he won ten out of ten times. Jose Mourinho did the same, he achieved similar victories.

Willy Hung: But if FC Hollywood won, surely that will end up as real celebration, no? I agree with Kantou-san, but I need to add that the Bavarians have secured a mental edge just by that.

Me: So what will be the key battles fought?

Willy Hung: Firstly, Bayern has a problem and the problem has a name. He's called Arjen Robben.

Me: Just because of his bust up with Louis Van Gaal, Franck Ribery, and Thomas Muller?

Willy Hung: That's all in the past. The players are now bumping bro fists instead while Robben has chose to defend his ex-boss. You see, the problem with Robben is this. He has good ball control, but there's only this much he can do on the pitch.

Me: Like?

Kantou Eirou: Like Robben's ability to run along the touchline and cutting inside from the flank. Tactically, that will only mean one thing. Either Robben crosses the ball far out from the side or he will cut inside to create space for players like Ribery and Muller gunning forward. However, we must also know that a solid defence across the pitch will half the chances of threat coming from him.

Willy Hung: But we must also note that Bastian Schweinsteiger is the real danger posed against Jurgen Klopp's men. Both teams play like Die Mannschaft under Joachim Low, both played a rather physical attacking 4-2-3-1 with a flair player granted the absolute roaming freedom playing just behind the centre forward and two wing forwards. Jupp Heynckes' team is one which focuses more on ball retention going up front. With Javi Martinez manning the fort just in front of the back four, such a tactic will ensure Die Bastion's absolute freedom in breaking up play just about anywhere. Left, right, centre, everywhere.

Me: So is it be a long shot to say Heynckes will allow Schweinsteiger to press forward?

Kantou Eirou: Most definitely. Die Schwarzgelben's greatest strength lies not in superior ball possession, but the manner which they win back the ball and breaking forward. The danger can come from the flanks, you can't do a shit without muzzling that guy playing behind the wingers and centre forward. In this sense, Borussia Dortmund do play like Barcelona. Not via tika-taka, but definitely in an exciting expansive style.

Me: So in short, it will be Die Bastion versus Die Unbekannt?

Willy Hung: Bingo there, Korean English. If Bayern ends up having Robben muzzled instead, they will be in deep trouble because we'll be talking up a three man ball retention play rather than four players sharing the job. Heynckes can't afford to run that risk, the only way is to open up space for Robben to exploit.

Me: Thank you very much, Kantou Eirou-san and Mr Willy Hung for this most insightful take on tomorrow's biggest day. And to round things off, here's an interesting take from fans loyal to either end.

FC Hollywooder: Proud to be Bavarian, man! We're gonna hammer those Marxist bastards, we're gonna have an early Oktoberfest!

Die Schwarzgelben-er: They have money, they can keep their asses! I can assure you that no sane fan in our ranks is racist, mental hospitals are for crazy idiots. Kloppo was cruelly character assassinated, he's not a racist! We all know Kloppo respects the Chinese because the man who revolutionised war is actually one!  We at Dortmund will greet Sunday's sun with this song. Ready, folks?

~~~Robben, Robben, ran from the flank...
Robben, Robben, fell from the plank...
All of Kaiser's men and all of Kaiser's medics can't re-mend botak Robben ever again~~~

Whim write!!!!!!!!!!!

NOT. I've got my plate full where A Ranger's Tale is concerned, I rather myself going in one direction. But still, you'll really have to give it to some old lobo somewhat stuck during the time of Louis Cha, Gu Long, etc (altho I'm only more familiar with Louis Cha). Last wuxia novel I came across was Wen Ruian's The Four Constables, but I ragequit on it b/c I don't have enough $$$ to fund my comics addiction. Yes, there's nothing wrong with the quality, just that not every Singaporean is rich. Not even halfway through the first Tang Sect arc and it's baibai. T_T

Well, but at least I completed the first arc. Not to mention my favourite character in TFC is a cold blooded wolf bastard named Cold Blood. No, I kid you not.


Oh, and one more thing: Cold Blood can't cope with girls.
Fans will know how a certain Xi Meihong ended up pwning him.


Whenever Cold Blood sees a girl, he'll be like an elephant seeing a mouse, someone meeting a jinx.

That's his abang tiga's assessment. Given Life Chaser (追命) is pretty much a worldly expert, that's saying something...

Some concepts intended to troll every living wuxia novelist...

Han Sikong [韩肆空]

Age: 23

A sucker for wine and fine women, it's been said that Sikong not having a wife is the greatest punishment meted out by Heaven itself. [姓韩的还没娶老婆,老天爷在玩死人。] Being a strong drinker, it's rumoured that he is able to travel one hundred li with just ten bowls of finest wine. [佳酿十碗,肆空奔百里。] Known as a constant troublemaker, it might not be a long shot in believing no family is willing to marry their daughters to him. However, he will never have any qualms in making friends and enemies, both poor and rich alike. For a person should only be judged by actions and words alone.

A rugged youth yet to shrug off his boyish charm,  he bears an unruly countenance either making people love him or hate him. Normally dressed shabbily, Sikong is the only son of Han Xiaoyun [韩哮云], head of the Yi Encampment  [义寨].

Family info:
The Han clan has a history of fame in the Longxi [陇西]. This is especially prominent with Longxi having a repute of producing military talent. The entire Shenzhou [神州] during that era, i.e. the Ming dynasty, still have to deal with rampant corruption and foreign raiders. For reason unknown, rumour has it that this clan is descended from the lineage of Han Lin'er [韩林儿].
[Historical note: Han Lin'er was a rebel leader during the numerous anti-Yuan dynasty uprisings. Actual records on any rebel figures, however, were near non-existent. Very likely a puppet ruler].

When Sikong was still a baby, a fortune teller once told Xiaoyun that he was born both as the Tanlang and Wuqu [此儿实乃贪狼、武曲之相]. This was an ironic statement since Tanlang symbolises avarice while Wuqu represents virtue and morals in military (Note: this is basically actual Chinese astrology cock talking since I've seen too much Chinese period drama when I was a teen). At the same time, it was also prophesied that Sikong will cause the death of any maiden close to him while doomed as a hero living in solitude [命剋红颜,孤身之侠]. However, before taking his leave, the fortune teller left one more cryptic message:
"Submitting to Heaven and rebelling against fate, such is a dragon among us. Born in the fields, he reaches the sky and travels in the sea."

Views on heroism:
A definite cynic, for heroism by then has became a political game played by the Five Mountains and Seven Houses [五岳七门]. In fact, Shaolin is now the only sect choosing to stay apart from the ongoing corruption while Wudang and E'mei, two of the Five Mountains, opted to keep a blind eye. Yet, deep in his heart, he still yearns for the ideals embraced by those fighting during turbulent times of war and oppression. In particularly, he detests the presence of authority and seniority unless proof of actual integrity and intelligence is without doubt.

Note: The Five Mountains refer to the five sects-Wudang [武当], E'mei [峨嵋], Huashan [华山], Songshan [嵩山], Qingcheng [青城]. The Seven Houses are listed as Qin [秦], Qi [齐], Chu [楚], Yan [燕], Han [韩], Zhao [赵], Wei [魏].
A/N: Seven Houses are inspired by the Seven Warring States.

Ends of the World
A finely balanced spear with ivory shaft and silver blade, it is able to penetrate even the finest armour and strongest shield. Its first owner is said to be the Yellow Emperor: Xuanyuan [黄帝:轩辕].

Note: The Yellow Emperor, Xuanyuan, is actually real in Chinese folklore/mythology.

Thousand Hands of Drifting Clouds
Coordinating flowing footwork with simple counterattacking fists, the key is all about reflecting whatever amount of force exerted by the opponent while increasing the momentum and damage through continual movement.

Void of Hundred Birds and Rising Phoenix
Based on fundamentals of spear mastery and nothing else, everything is all about emptying the mind. Capable of adapting to any and every means of martial technique within an instance, no opponent can ever predict the next move.

Note: The term Hundred Birds and Rising Phoenix [百鸟朝凤] is sort of a legit name. In non-historical Three Kingdoms folklore, this is a spear technique mastered by Tong Yuan [童渊], who was incidentally Zhao Yun's teacher in spear mastery.

Some characters of considerable note
[considering doing some post article on them since I do this tan-boh-jiak one...]

Guo Qi [郭奇]
A native of Runan [汝南], Guo Qi was the only one watching Sikong's back during their younger years where the latter used to shut himself away from other boys and girls. Blessed with astounding wit and analysis during any situation at hand, he is an avid learner on military treatise.

Mo Zheng [墨正]
The last surviving member of Moism [墨家], it is not known how this particular philosophy managed to endure after the state of Qin unified Shenzhou. Silent, aloof and dislike making friends, he shows an unusual tendency of concern for just about anybody around him. Yet, no recipient has ever witnessed a shred of emotions present within him.

Jiang Bian [蒋辨]
If Longxi is famous for men of military capability, then Jiangnan will be equally famous for men of scholarly talent [将帅出陇西,江南育秀才]. Out of the rest, twelve individuals stand out from their peers, hence the moniker, Twelve Elites of Jiangnan [江南十二名士]. Jiang Bian is youngest of the Twelve, yet his uncanny talent in using other people's words to his advantage has earned him massive fame as an arbiter. Normally, local magistrates are required to perform this duty, but should Jiang Bian appear out of nowhere, one can be ensured of a spectacular show of verbal wit. Incidentally, he will only play arbiter without any prior request while showing disdain for those doing so. Thus his nickname, The Number One Freak of Jiangnan [江南第一怪].

Zhao Xuan [赵玄]
A native of Changshan [常山], this is the man who read Sikong's fortune when he was just an infant. Has certain ties with House Zhao.

Wu Mu [武牧]
A man of mysterious background, he claimed to have knowledge on Han Lin'er despite a vast gap in timeline. Sikong stumbled into his abode when he ran away from home due to instinctive tendency to bottle everything up inside in the face of constant ostracising. Taught Sikong everything he knows in terms of martial arts within three years.

Liu Luoyi [刘洛依]
Sole daughter of Liu Jifeng [刘稷锋], leader of Qingcheng Sect. Headstrong, yet cheerful and optimistic at all times, she met Sikong under the most hilarious situation where he accidentally groped her. Incidentally, Jifeng could have killed him in a fit of rage if not for Luoyi demanding Sikong to be her servant.

Tan Xinru [谭欣如]
A beautiful girl hailing from the renowned Tan family, her father is the current Imperial Secretary [尚书], Tan Maocai [谭茂才]. She was nearly raped by the notorious rapist, Xiao San Sheng [萧三升] while on her way to Longxi. However, Sikong rescued her after exchanging words with San Sheng, which resulted in an insult hurled at the latter as "someone who can't even please a rodent" [老不死的还真无法满足一只母老鼠]. Killing the bandit with a single slash of his spear, Maocai offered Sikong a hefty reward. Sikong, however, chose to make an audacious demand of befriending Xinru instead. Amused by this plucky youth, Maocai approved this request under the condition that both must only remain friends.

Huang Shuang [黄霜]
The third daughter of a respectable merchant family, she desires a life of learning rather than to merely settle down with a husband. Not that it matters anyway since her first and only husband died in a freak accident, hence the Huang family being ridiculed. Her father, Huang Yu [黄誉], blamed her for bringing shame to the family. Luoyi is her best friend, but it was Sikong who punched Huang Yu in the face when the latter insulted a beggar. Amazingly enough, Sikong didn't know anything about Huang Shuang until Luoyi informed him about her father. Sikong noted that she's indeed beautiful in a distant way.

Tae-gun [太军]
A silent swordsman of Korean ethnicity, it's not clear on why he appeared suddenly in the Forbidden City. No thanks to an apparent attempt to assassinate the Emperor Wanli, Sikong was unwittingly implicated for no reason all. Initially at loggerheads against each other, Tae-gun finally opened himself up gradually after a prank devised by Sikong went terribly wrong with crazy consequences.

Maeda Keiji [前田庆次]
A Japanese somehow contriving to be much more problematic than Sikong, Keiji was the first man to defeat him soundly in a single combat. A wanderer having a repute of creating trouble wherever he goes, he eventually ganged up with Sikong and Tae-gun so that they can raise plenty of hell.

A/N: No, I'm not kidding here apart from the obvious fact that Tae-gun is that unwilling party out of the three amigos.

Note: Maeda Keiji IS an actual historical figure prominent during the Sengoku era. Yes, this is the same Kabukimono every Sengoku buff is thinking abt. Sorry, Tobias. I know this is me pulling off stupid liberties with history this time round. Problem, evidence?

Park Jin-hee [朴珍煕]
A budding kisaeng who inexplicably got herself involved in a kisaeng house brawl. Again, Sikong provided the spark when he insulted a yangban right in front of a shocked public. Somehow or another, she got dragged away by Tae-gun once Sikong was confirmed to have escaped minutes earlier. Tae-gun quite obviously wasn't amused this time round.

Final note: If this post sounds nonsensical, you're most likely not the only one. There's a tag called Personal BS. BS stands for BullShitting, 'nuff said. -.-'

Wednesday, 22 May 2013

A Night of Fate

Hearken, everyone!
On the first dawn, I greeted my sister and the rest.
All smiled without malice.
Hearken, everyone!
Under the second sun, I laughed with a Human boy most special from the rest.
All joined in without fear.
Hearken, everyone!
During the third night, I smiled at a full moon blue unknowing to the rest.
My darkest love gifting me a shrug without deceit.
~Three Days' Life~
Kagetsu no Hyo'Ah



A Ranger's Tale


"Are you nuts?" spluttered a tanned Cinha maid as she nearly choked on her food, female ire directed at a blond lad draped in timeless aura.

"Well, I guess I'm nowhere saner than you, fair lass," winked a twinkling eye of crimson red, his drink of Ocean’s Blood sipped casually, “Nothing like a glass of Histalonia’s signature wine. Want some, my black pearl?”

"You're.. you're a…" stuttered the comely maid, "You're just whoring around!"

"Well, I do enjoy my whores,” the youth scratched his beardless chin impishly, “But I enjoy better the company of fine ladies. Why not we…"


An answer snarled to an indecent proposal, the unnamed lass floored the saucy lad instantly.

"This is Histalonia. You'll be a rapebait without a bodyguard," whined the tall partial blond.

"And?" growled the girl like an angry lioness.

"And I saved you from the Muscle Gang, remember?” mused an impudence personified, “I don't mind playing the gentleman again."

No one ever gave her a name, she was merely a Cinha born poor. As a poor farmer’s daughter sold from her homeland across the divide, no local Gunmyo would take her as living merchandise. That was why foreign slavers of white took her in, her father’s gambling debts cleared as a result. She was sold to a travelling dance troupe, she was even luckier to remain chaste since nobody in her former owners’ barge could predict which girl will be next, let alone whoever fellow troupe mate casting a sly glance or two. So long as she could keep her legs intact, nothing untoward would kill off her future.

"Hey, how much do you charge, whore? You look deliciously tanned!"

She hated those men. In fact, she hated everybody born with a penis.

"Don't call me Lolyx! Do I look like some kitten to you?"

But he was different despite sharing the same colour as her hated bunch. He bestowed her own name, she ended up detesting his choice of gift.

“Wow, you sure know your saviour, eh? See, a nice ginger kitten with cute eyes like you!”

"I've already sealed a deal with the owner. He won't harm a single hair of yours," grinned Lolyx’s unflappable saviour, his abruptly change in subject breaking her thought, "At least there’ll be a warning stating no man shall grope my woman’s tits."

Lolyx sucked in her breath deeply, one obscene statement entertaining a brief fantasy of defenestrating that white idiot.

You better don’t let me know your name, asshole.

"You'll have to take my word against your heart, I guess," shrugged the fair youth, his expression apparently oblivious to Lolyx’s silent ire.

Lolyx rubbed her eyes momentarily in response, a sudden change in his ruby orbs seeming so fickle, but true.

A smile somehow different from others… is that pain?

"Well, fine then," huffed Lolyx, dismissal of nagging question deemed successful, "I'll take your word for it. But that's only because you’ve saved me. No more talk on my breasts though, you get me?"

"And you owe me one," came the annoying reply, Lolyx forced to her breaking point. He wasn’t trying to be a pervert to be fair because he’s already one. He’s just playing childish mind games.


Her answer dripping indignity, Lolyx was definitely wishing for a window nearby high enough. For no answer could be found against this cretin crazy enough to digress unpredictably.


She hated his pout as well.

"Because you forced me to run away with you!" blushed Lolyx as her counterpart caught the signs, “In fact, what’s the meaning of me owing you a debt? It’s every man’s duty to defend a helpless girl!”

"Helpless lioness to be exact,” mischievous chuckling ruled their conversation, “I won't force you to whore. Deal?"

Lolyx hanged her head in utter defeat, this infectious madcap got her flabbergasted.

"Just tell me your name before leaving, please."

Silence seized the frontal stage, an image flashed before him like a comet travelling across the night time sky.

"I've given up on Aera, but you as well?"

"It's quite a blast sending bags of rabbit entrails to stupid people’s doorstep. Only a sucker will give them charity, so what does it say about a greater sucker?"

“I don’t know. Please enlighten me, bonko.”

"Well, you know these people by their faces, Hyo. All watch, no action. Do you know it took me twenty gin-ryong plus a fisticuff in order to ensure a rickshaw opan's life?"

"And whose suggestion is this? Yours or Aera's?"

"Fuck it, dancing butterfly. If someone did teach Goldwanker some decent education, it means shit is a piss poor job."

"See what I mean, Hyo? Aera Darko has opened his golden mouth."

"Lars Alterfate," smiled a tired man beneath a capricious boy, “Just call me Lars, Lol."


"So what do I know about him, you ask?" smiled an apathetic Sarel Aphros, her scarlet lips tasting a cup of tea, "Tea brewed from Red Leaves, do you want any? ‘Tis a fine remedy for an anxious heart."

"I'm not gonna try that stuff until you answer my question," growled Guy, “Or do you want to try me again after my bitch slap?”

"My, my, isn't everyone getting testy here?" tut-tutted the Grand Damsel, "What say you?"

Guy wanted nothing more than Gae Buidhe plunged into that unpleasantly beautiful face, a rule banning weapons in times of audience being her only shield. One false move and he would greet his grave, for sharpened senses detected assassins hidden underneath every shadow. He’s no slave to the Quintet Church, he’s not some thorough idiot. Sarel Aphros had his head forced against her breasts countless times, it was a miracle seeing himself alive after random moments of anger rightfully directed. They tend to say a beast can never be tamed, but at least one can still place an iron cage. If the Church was to be that cage, then Sarel Aphros would be that person setting up the trap.

"Do you want to face that man sooner rather than later?"

Sarel's reply caught Guy off guard, she detected trepidations within details prior to her sudden move. A tensed up posture with sapphire eyes narrowed, Guy Cody’s slightly profuse breathing was not lost to the Grand Damsel. Living long enough to understand the mortal heart, she knew one could only be either saint or sinner. Against a lion straining against chains invisible, a seemingly Human girl grinned smugly. She delivered the one answer Guy Cody desired so badly, his indomitable spirit was just a mere inconvenience in the middle of her scheming mind.

"Three days from now. Three days to prepare yourself for all things unimaginable."


Hugue Lloris wore an impassive visage, his new found mistress kneeling in silent prayer before a frigid tomb. None understood why an innocent kitten got mutilated by a cruel brat, none understood why justice must be demanded. None save Alestrial Eliaden who buried the pitiful creature disemboweled in a tiny mound marked with tiny rocks. Every smallborne adored her, every smallborne attached themselves unto her. Yet, every smallborne could not understand her, every smallborne distanced themselves from her. Apart from him that is. However, understanding equalled not to empathy, words tolling in her mind akin to timely advice heard.

"Everyone will be betrayed one way or another, but only once with that very knife called self."

"A trade off in marriage, a political marriage…" whispered Hugue, his words went unheard with a mirthless arc drawn, "Are we not slaves to any life chosen for ourselves? Foolish little girl."

"Hugue," said an unwitting Alestrial, her pride hidden away from the Kalaran youth, "As my bond, will you dive straight to the bowels of Hell, only never to return if I command so?"

"They say a commoner pledging himself to a noble through merit of oath sworn is called a bond,” answered the golden blond as both remained rooted on the meadow ground, “I've pledged my blade to your service out of self-volition and you gifted me your best ever answer.”

“But you have not given me yours,” came a noble girl’s reply, her heart aching still.

“Should a truthful man be deemed a wonder?"

"Thank you, Hugue," smiled Alestrial, tears of hurt shielding her soft brown eyes, "Your assurance has indeed granted me my greatest reprieve."

"What about my previous bond then?"

Such was that one question unanswerable and most unavoidable, not even the Holy Quintet could help Alestrial out. This was a world where no one is ever freed, any merest mortal from the humblest to greatest had never meant to be a god. A corner of his lips shifting upward ever so slightly, Hugue's storm grey eyes were led astray to a dead hare entering a viper's jaws. Alestrial's sights arrowed onto the will of nature done as well, her soft brown eyes were adorned in stupefied shock.

"A grass viper, the most common kind of all vipers. Be wary, Milady, for rumour has it that six out of every ten children playing can easily fall afoul."

"You do have good knowledge on snakes," complimented a shaken Alestrial, a sudden cold wind tearing through the stagnant air.

“They say knowledge is the key to power, hunger is the gateway to intelligence. You don’t look well here, Milady. Let us depart, for the night is near and darkness full of fear.”

Staring into telling depths unknown within Hugue Lloris' storm grey orbs, Alestrial believed Hugue Lloris to be her other bond dependable. It was verily his smile shattering her facade in acting strong, she agreed to his proposal in holding a melee tourney for this reason itself. Sadly, another Guy Cody he wasn’t meant to be.

But at least his hand feels equally warm… is summer over yet?


"There is no point differentiating between a lion's savagery, sins of a wolf and venom from a serpent's tongue. Every person has the right choosing or not to be a savage sinner filled with venomous deceit."

Yeras Wynda stared incredulously at Lukas Brun, his surprise visit turning into shock. She tried asking his current joy, he ended up proving himself as another man. This was a Lukas Brun alike some familiar stranger, this was not the Lukas Brun who would sleep naked under every hot summer night. Lukas Brun used to enjoy snapping at her playfulness, Lukas Brun used to enjoy sharing a bath with her.

“Yeras, do you know you’re a pain in the ass without any manners?”

“Huh? What you saying?”

“Forget it. You’re a stupid girl who will always fancy sharing a dip with a gay.”

“Not any gay, but only you! I hate you!”

She remembered her first tantrum thrown while naked, Lukas was the first and only man to see her bare. From top to bottom, from her breasts to intimate region, Lukas had seen them all and turning back was no longer an option. She was, after all, a carefree lass only remembering an escape from a forced marriage arranged. Attempts in accepting the cold hard truth begot a shaking of head from Lukas Brun, Yeras’ amber eyes now wore a pair of painful gaze. What happened to the young owner of The Drowning Bear? What destroyed everything in the face of youthful zest and all things bountiful?


Lukas dismissed whatever defence Yeras tried mustering up with a slicing gesture across the neck, she knew only too well what it means. A passionate heart raced like a bleeding bull out to gore, her mind was assailed by fire and blood once more. She never screamed out loud this time round, her anguish cooled by Lukas’ most pleasing bargain.

"If you want Guy Cody, I can give him to you on my own terms. I know a lion not so unlike another northern one, I know valour's merit seven fold upon seeing one."


‘Tis a tale of one noble son lost in pride and success, ‘tis a story full of despair and suicide. All know his last name still, his father disowning him. Alas for a father’s love, alas for a father’s sneer.

‘Tis a tale of young Lord Springall and his friends wining with ladies fairest, ‘tis a story full of feasting, rape, and ruin. All knew their heinous deeds, his father disowning him. Alas for one Viscount hanged, alas for two friends and a father raped. For ‘tis the rumoured word hailing from a court of spring sometimes said to be Demons’ hallowed ground.

A court of spring where Viscount and the rest sated their raging lusts, ‘tis truly a ruined garden named Spring Court.

Odour of death undetectable by mundane means, Aeranath's senses had more than vaguely guessed correct games playing behind his back. Because he was no stranger to Sarel Aphros herself, he was no stranger to anything. A passing tale became something taking root in the Ranger's heart, damning story retold a grandeur unchanged, yet fallen. Recalling her words four days ago, this was indeed a recipe for his customary jape.

"Alas for asses banged and tits getting sucked, ‘tis the finest place to enjoy far finer trysts."

Never one to prefer little boys and pretty men, the True Apostle only enjoyed the company of attractive whores and their heavenly goods. Memories in the Spring Court burned fiercely in his mind, reaction in between the legs was literally nothing. There had been a mass orgy prior to arrival, he only cared about his partner who was an innocent looking Half-Elven girl. The golden blond was paid handsomely, she pleased him massively. Aeranath remembered a good time dished out by his might, her perfect tits swaying and groped throughout the night.

Not to mention Claudia moaning like an innocent whore. Or was it Claudine? Bah, just fuck it…

“I hope you’re prepared for this.”

Aeranath opened an eye with seated posture unchanged, for why would he need to? He who was defeated before glared down at his better, the whimpering cub now coming of age. Making himself at home under the open sky littered with stars above, Aeranath refused to stand up before Guy Cody. There was no roof, only broken pillars with entwining ivy. A fertile ground flatly smooth, naked girls wasted so commonly seen were absent from the scene.

Two combatants in the middle of a ruined garden fair, one lone wolf versus a lion brave. A duel awaited commencement, the horn for battle blaring loud. A Human boy gripping a pole swathed in white, the last True Apostle rested across his lap a sword remaining sheathed. Two pairs of orbs painted in flaring blue, two intentions harbouring mutual intent far from pure. Murder destined to be their only game, mercy shown otherwise would be nothing more than cruelty to self.

Aeranath owed and hated Sarel Aphros, Guy Cody thanked and loathed Sarel Aphros.

And neither cared any much till their fatal duel done.


"Hey, you hearing me?" hollered Yeras Wynda, her attitude inviting contempt from surrounding maidservants.

"Why, of course!" smiled Alestrial radiantly, relief finally giving her hopeful cheer, "Glad seeing you're back to your best again."

"Of course I've always been my best!" huffed the redhead, her chin held up high.

"Yeah," sniggered a nearby brunette maid, “And freaking out is the best of them.”

"Excuse me, miss," glared Yeras, "I don't remember such a thing."

"Of course you won't remember!" giggled the same servant, "Because it took you..."

"Enough of that!" reprimanded Alestrial sharply, "Your old master is about to be my father-in-law, your young master my husband-to-be. Will you truly enjoy much that very day where the likes of you shall be mocked by public shame?"


"No buts," Alestrial cut off any attempt in answering back, a dismissive flick from her wrist hammering home the point, "I will call for you all once the need arise. For now, please take your deserved rest."

As every comely servant brought from House Dukes exited the pavilion, complaints and curses formed through their lips berated a future Mistress Lord. Yeras offered them nothing but a raspberry and turned back to face Alestrial.

"Wow, that's truly great, Ales! Bossing stupid people sure feels nice," gushed Yeras.

"That's social status for you," grinned Alestrial playfully, Yeras' nickname given to her warming the heart. No one had ever gone so far like Yeras to make their feelings known, not even Guy Cody could come up with this idea. All only addressed her by the first name, let alone her father and servants back home who truly adored her. Verily soon, this illusion painted in memory shall be nothing more, childish hand in marriage six years old doomed as a ghost consigned.

What then about that girl? She was undeniably a Cinha maid like her, beautiful grace unrivalled belittling her. A beautiful face never before seen hummed a mundane tune on the spot, unattainable dreams preached the only perfection. Blind faith hidden within blooming into roses of gold, Alestrial Eliaden wished everything to be a never ending story. A never-ending story of freedom and love, a never-ending story of companionship and adventure, such was a little girl’s dream in spite of naivety being a fire consuming all.

Alestrial Eliaden, oukaimida. I’m now trusting Aera to your care, please protect him till the world’s very end. Promise me, Ales…


Background notes:

Viscount is the only honorary title in the Kalaran Empire where only merits of the highest order will deserve it.

Trinity College mentioned in previous chapter is a centralised institution boasting of the finest scholars/intellectuals. There are three sub-colleges within: School of Structuring, School of Debating, and School of Warring. The School of Structuring (mentioned in the last chapter also) prides itself in developing architecture, School of Debating is all about literature, and School of Warring specialises in military history.

Balloting mentioned by Lukas in Guy’s flashback in the previous chapter is basically a systematic form of casting lots where cadets graduating from Merseyside (also known as rookies or recruits) will write down their chosen Division on a piece of paper beforehand.

The tale retold by Sarel Aphros at the beginning of Aeranath’s POV is entitled The Viscount of Heated Spring. Despite the tale being cautionary and dark, its title is uncharacteristically satirical. The School of Debating has recently concluded that the writer was indeed mocking at the excesses so common amongst nobility, hence staying anonymous for fear of reprisal.

Spring Court is merely a place discovered by chance via a young couple on a tryst five years ago. Since then, this has been a place of lurid repute where mass orgies will be held.

Red Leaves is the highest grade of tea leaves where the tea brewed will leave a mildly sweet aftertaste. Nobility enjoy this tea the most, but it is prized even more by healers/physicians due strong therapeutic effects in calming down anxiety.

Ocean’s Blood is one of the finest red wines gracing any shore in The Known World. Produced solely in Histalonia, it is typically dry while leaving a sweet lemon aftertaste. Due to Histalonia’s violent history in marine warfare, Ocean’s Blood can be either interpreted as a mocking tribute (for nobility and smallborne) or military respect (for mercenaries and soldiers).

And now on some Cinha national education:

Oukaimida is a formal greeting term.

Bonko is a derogatory term for idiot.

Opan is an informal address to any elderly man.

Rickshaw is an actual invention that isn't really old, i.e. I don't remember anything on rickshaws existing during dynastic China prior to Qing dynasty. Yes, me=Word of Maker.

Local currency is classified under three levels of monetary value-tou-ryong (round copper coins), gin-ryong (rectangular silver pieces), and kin-ryong (hill-shaped gold ingots).
[Note: Ryong is the Cinha root word for dragon and that in spite of these creatures being non-existent LITERALLY, a dragon is still viewed as the paramount of awe, fame, and woe.]