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.

Monday, 20 May 2013

Spark And Fire, Cause And Effect

We are all travellers searching for a home, our home, an unique home. That's what my Oka taught me before... Aera, where is your home?
~Kagetsu no Hyo'Ah


A Ranger's Tale


"I have to go somewhere. Alestrial, may you be happy forevermore."

Guy Cody never looked back once, a lion’s solitary back turned against a longing Cinha maid. Alestrial reached out her hands, she ended up with naught. Their parting place was one made in irony, the silent beauty and fluttering dragonflies reminding Alestrial Eliaden that the golden roses currently in bloom will wilt away soon enough. She tried saying something, she could only form words unspoken in her mind.

'Tis like our secret garden six years ago, verily the same place we pledged ourselves to each other’s warmth.


"I, Hugue Lloris, thereby pledge my blade at your beck and call, fairest Maistress Alestrial Eliaden."

If Hugue’s declaration had scored any positivity amongst surrounding watchers, they merely rolled their eyes in contempt. This was merely a stranger’s boy laden with dubious background, this was a boy besting others much more eager to prove themselves. His ease in disarming opponents was alarmingly quick, all comers resented his tactic of sneaking out a hidden dagger on them.

"Cheater! Rogue, knave!"

Hisses and boos erupted as Hugue betrayed only a smile, he knew a ship of fools greeting him from one mile off. Nobody dictated a ban on hidden weapons, the spectators wouldn’t mind seeing one of their own doing the same. Thus, it was now down to Alestrial Eliaden making the decision.

And I know she will rule in my favour.

"Rise, Hugue Lloris," smiled the Cinha lady wistfully, a noisy crowd swiftly silenced, "Your request is now granted."


The uproar finally pacified, Alestrial did not know what Hugue has done to stifle them for good. Jarvis Dukes had sent hours before his finest maidservants before her, she only felt an obligation to duty rather than love. Her trip smoothly paved, Seaside’s finest villa was hers alone. Jarvis minded not Guy’s abrupt presence, he paid little heed on Yeras’ occasional escapades. Yet, rumours of a young lion clashing head on against Lerry Dukes’ sole heir apparent have yet to fade away from the household.

"Lloris..." murmured Alestrial, her eyes staring at phantoms emerging from shadows of the past.

"You seemed troubled over my family name," inquired the seated lad as he surveyed his mistress gazing beyond open windows, a tone showing nothing but respect.

"It's nothing, Hugue," smiled weakly the Cinha girl, "Just that you reminded me of someone I know before."

"And he is no longer around?" inquired Hugue, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, yes indeed, fairest Hugue,” answered Alestrial as she took a sip of tea, “By the way, how old are you?"

"This end of winter will mark my twenty first year, Milady."

"So I see..."

Alestrial dismissed Hugue soon afterwards, an evening slumber descending onto her where demons from the past still haunted her life.


"Father! Why?"

For the first time in my life, I hated the man whom I call father. Even if I am merely adopted, a False Noble in truth, this fact means nothing to me. They say Louthes has always devoted the best for his only daughter, I know this daughter they speak of should be a son. In protecting me from any and every harmful words from knaves both rich and powerful, my father was only affirming that he won’t have anyone as a legitimate heir. That’s why a Lord of his standing can throw forth a callous reply denying any logic of black and white.

What has Naran ever done to warrant cruel taunts excused as straightforward jest? There was a perfectly fine girl waiting for his return and our friendship doomed everything promised by life. No one, both greatest and the least, should ever shoulder a wrong not committed by themselves. This is a teaching handed down from my mother. Not a mother by blood, but rather the lawful wife of Louthes Eliaden.

Emma Watts Eliaden, fairest of all ladies, a Kalaran rose of gold blessed with thorns.

I hate that manner of eulogy, but it is something I need to get used to from everybody around me, stranger or acquaintance. Nobody came to her when she was breathing her final last, only through my father’s call did one entire circle of nobility flock to mourn.

"I have a dream and this dream still stands. I hope to earn enough for Kelyn, to seal my promise made. I know she will be waiting for me and no other man. I only have this much currently, I hope Milady you will still grace my biggest day with your mere presence by then."

Naran once told me his dream, this was a simple dream. Guy believed in something like that as well, that’s why he is now proving his worth behind Merseyside’s plainest walls. Kelyn has moved on, she has found a man equally good. But that was only because Naran had already committed suicide weeks ago, a dead man found hanging on a bough nearly shattering those he loved.

"Your choice of friends will affect many including those you profess to love."

A kind decision bringing about a brutal ending in return, I still can remember his suicide note left behind.

Murderers, every one of them around me, every single word whispered from the lips. Even if they like me are smallborne affirmed since birth… Milady, if you see this letter, it will only mean one thing. Tell Kelyn to find another man better than Naran Lloris, this I only ask that much.


An apathetic Guy Cody eyed the clock tower as a march dedicated for the dead proceeded on. Kalaran Empire was indeed an Empire in all things good, the clock tower being one of its icons. This was something invented by the School of Structuring, whatever knowledge relevant privy only to the highest echelon. But then again, the same standard applied to every creation coming from the Trinity College.

Then there was the wake going on right now. A good number tearing up to the brim, far more of the rest cared for not their lead. Guy suddenly recalled the Red Lions’ principles written in black and white, dastardly cadets running afoul was not something new. Mayhap there existed a certain truth behind Lukas' advice prior to him leaving Merseyside for good.

Do anything, but don't get yourself caught. Word has it that Moggray Tonn is one hell of a stubborn jackass capable of whitening any actual jackass’ anal face, so I guess Teesside is worth a balloting shot.

Perhaps it was down to an innate gift of insight, maybe it was just about punishing experiences dealt and equally harsh lessons learnt. But no matter what, everything was clear before Guy’s sapphire gaze. Someone has increased the stakes, there’s nowhere to escape. Within a moment's flash, Guy spotted the name of she who was waiting for putting to rest.

Evania Tonds. A beautiful name trampled by not so beautiful monsters.

"Do you desire vengeance for a filly not of Alestrial's person?"

The sandy blond swivelled behind, a wizened visage grinning back. No lion would buckle under any fear, yet Guy Cody could perfectly sense something amiss. The world around him was no longer in motion, birds frozen in the middle of flight being the first sign captured. Chimney smoke rising moved no more higher up, everything alive became statues of living flesh and bone. Had not Guy Cody being part of this world, all would have seemed far more in place within tapestry art.

"All hail the Lion of Teesside," bowed the elderly Human slightly, his emerald eyes not leaving the target for a single second, "Guy Cody, I presume."

"What do you want?" asked Guy warily.

"You surely know how to ask pointless questions, you really remind me of my protégé not so bright," came the replying sigh, "The name's Ziron by the way so that you don’t have to address me improper."

"Quit playing mind games with me, old fuck."

"Oh my, you’re not the idiot others assume to be, it seems," quipped Ziron, a wistful smile vanishing swiftly just as it started surfacing, "Unfortunately, I'm not out to retell stories unworthy of recount."

"Let's get straight to the point then. No one asked you to talk cock."

Ziron chortled quietly in his heart, Aor was not lying when the First True Apostle said this is a favour in disguise.

"Do you wish vengeance for the girl? Evania Tonds was a victim of her own foolish decision, her suicide is proof of the most cowardly murderers."

"Don’t know, don’t care," Guy Cody knew he was deceiving himself, he merely hoped for this surrealistic drama to end.

"Not even an idiot desires a life of self-loathing," answered Ziron matter-of-factly, “Are you worse than a retard?"

"You know what I seek, old man."

"And it might not be all that you can live for," Ziron tried hiding his inner pain while mouthing those words, he hope the boy won’t bust the lie.

He senses I know Aeranath. Indeed I shouldn’t underestimate the impact of a Blood Pledge.

"Shut the hell up. You're in it with that devil, I know it!" snarled the sandy blond lion, his knuckles cracked and whitened.

Well, shit happens in life. Aeranath, you've created a fine masterpiece for yourself…

"And do you perceive yourself as 'him'?" Ziron found no mirth in his own reply, there was nothing similar discovered in his previous mental jab.

Factual reasoning sung a taunting dirge as Guy Cody released a primal roar. Gae Buidhe unleashed in a blinking of an eye, Ziron was way faster than the swiftest steed. Disarmed and robbed of his golden spear, the young lion became the undeniable loser. Staff gripped in his right hand and the left holding Gae Buidhe, no display of mercy was shown on Ziron's visage. Guy expected a killing blow knifed into his neck, he ended up with damning words whispered instead.

"Do you remember what caused your first outburst? Alestrial Eliaden stopped you via merit of gentleness, but she’s not your source of actual strength."

With Gae Buidhe's tip easing away from the living vanquished, Ziron tossed it casually in front of Guy's wide eyed stare as a form fading away conceived forth information unasked for.

Go to the First District where you can try asking where the Dancing Flame is. If your perception is truly this sharp, you'll know what my statement mean.


Old Lalas had never witnessed before a horrendous scene like that, his horrified eyes of reddish brown fixated on a crazy murderer grinning like that Crazy Jack caught two years ago. The veteran successfully mobilised his men within minutes, every man failed to prevent a massacre happening in the Dancing Flame. This dark knave in question was ruthlessly efficient, scores were murdered indiscriminately. Chief Constable Lalas Awn was no fool, he knew hundreds more beyond the porch could have been easily slaughtered.

I really fucking hate this job now. Lalas Awn, you better resign straightaway if this crazy motherfucker doesn’t kill you.

As if reading his thought, the stranger strode towards Lalas and the rest. One step forward versus three steps taken back, this was one man against twenty. Lalas had been around for the past decade as a part of this city’s Watch, he was no stranger to an occasional Ranger or two wandering around.  Be it executing fugitives or banking in gruesome proof of bounties claimed, the forty year old bloke had seen it all. As he tried readying his quavering men for battle, that one lone wolf shrugged nonchalantly, a cold blooded butcher uttering a cold blooded statement.

"Well, you understand one thing? There's no sin in calling a bastard a bastard," a devilish smirk accompanied a shocking act, a bloodless female head severed was punted across the bloodied floor. Lalas felt his head turning light, this was his first time facing such a predicament. He never bothered looking back, he did not want to see whatever reaction from the rest.

"This is the Watch of Bargen City, I hope you’re prepared to face truth and justice."

The Ranger cared not for empty threats, he merely raised a middle finger.

"For truth and justice? You don't seem that poorly weak to me.”

Lalas swore that if he had a Goblin’s Cocktail in hand, he would have flung it across without second thoughts. Never mind if he got burnt due to some loopy technology created by those greeny pyromaniacs.

"If you want to bust me, go ahead," wagging his finger before the Watch, the Ranger retained a certain cocksure air, "The name's Aeranath. It’s every man’s rightful task to make the watchmen’s job easier, no?"

The local Watch tensed up immensely while Lalas attempted his best in swallowing a pill of shock. Irrational words spoken from one deprived of rationale, one trickling second was an hour too long. Possessing no qualms in leading his prey around in circles, a wolf's freedom belonged only to itself. Death was the banker, a game of Dead Man’s Hand about to reach that final round. Yet, the banker would never be the winner with Aeranath knowing the first rule all too well.

The banker only has the right to deal and decide, the gamers are the ones playing out their cards.


Guy could not believe his eyes. The Dancing Flame was baptised in a sea of flaming white, the irony behind its fate not lost unto him. Random sermon years ago coming to mind, the preacher back then was warning her listeners dire consequences caused by unlawful worship and mass orgies. The Kalaran lad was never an imbecile, he was never blind to every virtue extolled by the Church.

The Soldier, The Poet, The Scholar, The Craftsman, may worthy deeds be done for the world.

One single Father to rule them all, one Holy Quintet to rule and judge, may the worthy rule the world.

Everyone had heard of Moggray Tonn's disdain for the Church, but only in recent nights did Guy Cody try contemplating whether sinners will go to Heaven and the blameless departing for Hell. He used to believe whoever tending the herd, his only relative destroyed any falsehood before he was even ten.

Fuck all of this! Fuck the Quintet, fuck the Church! Why didn't they help my brother and his wife? All they left behind was a child, their only firstborn child. The boy had nothing, do you think my failure as a comedy? I may be an uncouth soldier before, but I’m still a man, dearest Patron. One more sneering word and I will wrench your jaw apart. Nobody, and I mean nobody, should ever judge my nephew's worth!

"Yeah, fuck the Quintet, fuck the Church, fuck that bitch," snorted Guy derisively, "And to think I used to blame Uncle Parky for that episode."

"They're all dead," rang out a mocker’s voice akin to a death knell, "Not including the Watch of course."

Guy spun around to face that one person masked by surrounding darkness, he knew the owner of that thrice damned tone. Ranger versus an ordinary soldier, Fencer against a Lancer, wolf and lion alike sized each other up with neither taking a foolhardy move. Guy drew up a cruel grin, his battle stance ready to strike. Aeranath chose not to make a move, his left hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. With a silent snarl and a furious roar, the young lion of Teesside ripped open a wound across the wolf’s shoulder. As if ridiculed by Fate should it really exist, Guy cursed his lacking luck as potential success otherwise was cruelly brought to naught.

Why can’t I kill that thrice damned fucker? What the fuck is wrong with me?

"What the fuck is wrong with you, boy?" whispered Aeranath, "Why don't you kill me, boy?"

Guy Cody retreated three steps behind, Aeranath took one foot forward. The sandy blond was trapped in the irony of his unspoken words, his hated foe’s comment being a mirror truest to the self.

"I... I could have killed you!" hollered Guy, "It's just that I'm feeling merciful now!"

Aeranath then howled with gleeful madness, Guy Cody knew himself the answer why. Killing Aeranath on the spot would resolve everything from hurt to anger. And killing Aeranath might not be so different from killing himself for reasons unknown. Guy could sense what is going wrong, he couldn't find an answer proper no matter how.

"What are you living for?" an abrupt verbal assault initiated had nailed the Kalaran Human for good, his jaw and knuckles tightly clenched. And all because of unexpected calm coming from a monster expected.

Tip of adversity's blade levelled horizontally, it took young Guy only one split second to feel the slightest sting piercing against his throat. He knew no fear against any enemy prior to this moment of reckoning, a pulsating chill careened into his hollow courage. Trying to mouth the source he now understood so well, not even a garble greeted a wolf whose fangs have closed around the lion's neck.

Spectre of death looming near, its commanding hand shattered a grave prepared. Forceful slam knocking the stuffing out of Guy, cold hard bricks became his bed and cushion. A moment utmost brief created for him hours passing by, a curse proclaimed by an azure glare was whispered into the ear.

"Toe the line drawn for you, little boy. You're not me, wolves and lions don’t wear the same coloured coat. Once you get busted breaking the rules, I'll be the rightful one claiming your head. Get me?"


Ceres, O’ fairest Ceres! Why do you leave me, why do you have to die by rape and ruthless force? I promised to protect you, swore to love you, wanted to cherish you. In the end, all my hands remember is a severed head and your naked body bare.

O’ Arondight, what is thy mortall name?

O’ Arondight, what art thou?


Brek Lagger was never one knowing fear, his buddies and him were renowned as Rape Elite. Everybody gave them respect, everybody worshipped them. Fellow youths looked up to them, older folks never chastised them. Every lass they desired, they would obtain. Either by sweet nothings or by force, it did not matter. That was until a hulking youth deceptively fast cornered the entire lot with their backers soiling their pants.

"The Rape Elite? Hah!" spat the grizzled man upon a faceless body smashed, "Indeed a name half of pomp and full of shit! Have you ever stared before the maddest of men?"

Brek smiled deviously as he knew that barbarian’s time would soon be up. His father had a certain standing as a martial instructor, Lagger senior had crept unknown behind that madman’s back.

A heavy broadsword tried cleaving off a monster’s head, a gauntlet of blackest steel blocked the blow. A feral bellow and a downward arc, no one saw how Sandas Lagger was reduced to half a man.

"Have you ever withstood the bloodiest death?" growled the crazed killer after Brek and his entire Rape Elite got decimated apart, "I have seen honour and chivalry, killing noble men living like thieves robbing women of their lives…"

O’ Arondight, thou hast avenge Ceres ages agone, yet cometh first this hamlet of knaves, then Gisborne.


Background notes:

Dead Man's Hand is common card game played by mercenaries where the banker is the only dealer and decision maker. Any loot obtained is considered fair game in terms of placing stakes. In particularly, attractive women obtained are extremely prized, hence reserved for every final round. One interesting fact about this peculiar gambling game is that the banker can never be the gamer.

It's a common tradition for a noble lady conducting any manner of tournament in order to select her personal champion.

Crazy Jack is a notorious mass murderer best known to target random womenfolk. Sentenced to hang swiftly after he was caught, Lalas Awn was credited for this fine deed of law enforcement. However, it remains a mystery why he never chose to rape his victims before killing them.

The Watch is a uniform system of law enforcement where it's role is to oversee everyday law and order. Given the nature of events in Chapter 1 though, it's pretty much a no-brainer that they will always work hand to hand with the local Red Lions.

Watchmen is the standard term for members of the Watch. At the same time, it's also used in a derogatory way.

Ziron is capable of some crazy shit despite being a half assed-existence. Whether Aera knew about it though is another question altogether.

Blood Pledge is a plot vital plot mechanic, so no spoilers from Mr Maker himself.

Info on the Church and Wolves: