Translate

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. -.-'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, 28 May 2013

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


)0(

A Ranger's Tale

)0(

“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.”

)0(

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..."

)0(

"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.

)0(

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.

)0(

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.


)0(