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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturday, 29 June 2013

Renewed Spring, Brand New Struggle

Land is always surrounded by Sea, Love is always besieged by War. Land will always set itself apart from Sea, Love and War will always walk down the aisle.
~Eliador de Lioncourt



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A Ranger's Tale

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Fionn of Cumhaill, do you remember our time contending beneath the Fianna’s banner? I, Arondight of the Lake, hereby entrust Ceres unto an oath sworn many a year ago, for tidings of war now beckons.

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NE 241, Spring

Alestrial Eliaden woke up abruptly, tears and sweat present with nary a drop of blood or a single bruise. It was a dream, a nightmare she should not live through. Jarvis Dukes was already dead and so were Yeras and everybody else. Forcefully fed by reality, she could never be sure on whether there's such a person named Hugue Lloris.

"Hugue Lloris is merely a mirror you desired. A reflection corrupted not by the Serpent myself, but rather this world itself. So will you believe in a liar when he says you're still innocent and unblemished, right here, right now?"

"Ales!"

The defiled maid turned to the right of her mahogany bed, a tearful Yeras Wynda embracing her tightly. The foolish little girl was already dead, rape had murdered her. Spoken rumour from lips undeniably true confirming Alestrial’s darkest fear months ago, Yeras Wynda was now reduced to a slave, toy, and every man’s whore. Anything more, her sole living pillar opted not to speak another word.

"Hush, Yeras. It's alright. I’m on your side…"

"Yeras," an apologetic voice crept out from an opening door crafted from finest of pinewood, mother of pearl and precious stones completing the dazzling gate. Stiffened shoulders as tension’s proof, Alestrial knew this was no voice belonging to an Elf.

“Luk,” nodded Yeras.

“Yeras, I’m sorry, but… our liege requests an audience with Lady Alestrial of House Eliaden.”

Eyed with steely hatred from his Cinha object of reference, the well groomed androgynous brunette never filched. Yeras got up in response, a brief curtsy mocking all that Alestrial Eliaden had stood for.

“Yeras!”

A now changed auburn haired girl paused in her steps, the following instance she was gone.

“You look better this way. Never imagine myself saying…”

A slap taking him off guard, the unnamed lad could have done what the stunties did to her. But then again, having survived the worst, the lady of Eliaden doubted actual Hell to be any worse. Forcing a stare at him eye to eye, no one told the Cinha girl she was free not to do so.

“A pair of beautiful jewels,” hailed his audible murmur, “Could have been the finest pair of darkest pearls, yet now a pair of hardest agates.”

“Agates are different from black pearls, dearest gentleman,” her bitter tone dripping with venom, Alestrial’s verbal barbs became her only solace, her only comfortable cell.

“Not just colour, fairest Milady,” a wistful smile greeting a raging volley, “Agates are said to be one of the hardest stones. By the way, this is Lukas Brun at your service.”

“Save me your hypocrisy, Young Master Brun.”

“I’m never one.”

There it was once again, Lukas’ apology shamelessly brazen. It was by fine luck that he did not choose to curtsy. Alestrial would have pushed herself and him down the window, plummeting death the best promise given to herself.

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A richly decorated room containing exotic animals breathed life into exquisite drawings hanging on the walls, purple orchid prints surrounded an Elf naked waist up in open daylight, "Miliege, Lady Alestrial of House Eliaden is here."

“Good,” waved the decadent monarch, “You are dismissed, Lukas. Return back to your calling.”

As Alestrial took her seat opposite a smirking Elf, she felt pain for the mindless boys wholly naked. Whether they were truly homosexuals no longer mattered, the fact that corruption understands no satiation was more than to bear.

"Raven locks shorn at shoulders' height... indeed such a look really compliments you,” Eliador’s grin never straying far, “Better than that noble little girl if I say so myself."

Golden hair in medium length styled flamboyantly, the top half was spiked back in an elegant manner as a figure lithe and athletic did nothing to hide a predator's aura. A long sleeved shirt in white adorned with a frilly front complimented seamlessly a red sash tied at the waist as a pair of dark brown trousers and matching leather shoes portrayed forth an actual gentleman truly vicious. Alestrial noticed a row of white daggers lined, this wasn’t a mortal being. She had heard old wives’ tales telling stories on those preying on fresh blood and living flesh, Eliador de Lioncourt fitted nicely a monster’s living portrait.

And his grey eyes of icy storms… yes, I am right on him.

Fingers abruptly snapped echoed like weeping cries from the dead, all his pretty boys bowed reverently. Obedience with nary a dissent, they took their leave while staying naked. Untold silence prevailing for eternity, every detail in the serpent's lair was not lost to Alestrial.

Because this room is no different from that one he's caging me in.

"What do you want?" queried the jaded lady at last, her identity no longer noble, "You stripped away everything from me except my life. Do you want my soul after robbing my chastity?"

"Chastity… why, my fairest lady, this is a strong word easily abused," grinned the fair Elf mockingly, a bite taken from a bunch of deep purple grapes, "Histalonia understands no such term just as no Histalonian can understand such a norm."

A vengeful heart threatening to rip itself off her pulsating breast, Alestrial would gladly let this be. Every tendril of sanity loathing him, mysterious tales behind the Homm'Nua became a reality of fear. Finally realising her folly the previous autumn, Alestrial Eliaden was wholly convinced that tales of fairest romance and fairer folk to be children’s tales.

Swiftest movement like a violent breeze pinning the defiled Cinha maiden aback, the unpredictable Elf suddenly resembled that grass viper Hugue Lloris talked about. His breath stank not of decay, his form reeked corruption. Back forced against the nearest wall, Alestrial Eliaden knew a second bout of violation could be on the cards. She’d rather a half decaying Naran Lloris dominating her delicate pink lips and naked writhing form.

"Have you seen my precious little gems?"

Damning question whispered assaulting her off guard, Alestrial understood what his meaning.

Captivating jewels deprived of life, captivating gems captivated… may the Holy Quintet smite you, Serpent of Histalonia.

Without waiting for an imminent reply most expected, Eliador de Lioncourt proclaimed his mocking judgment against every being under Heaven’s rule and walking this known world.

"If my trysts are to be the mark of greatest sin, how much of the world is indeed sane?"

Alestrial's soul gagged before Eliador’s venomous question, no other answer could ever be accepted. Her reaction verily music to this Elf's elongated ears, resistance had never been more futile. For a flashing moment, she wished to remain as the Dwarves’ harlot.

So shall I start first with your manly manhood? Definitely you lot have opened this girl up to a brand new world…

Pressure squeezing against her wrists, Alestrial still recalled her tormentors’ wailing pain. In spite of maidenhood plundered, the Cinha lass remained horrified towards Eliador’s death punishment meted out. Mayhap this was a deliberate demonstration, perhaps the Homm’Nua were really a sadistic bunch complete with demonic teeth. With nary a prior sign, a serpent's slender form suddenly glided away, a golden doorknob grasped firmly. No sooner a relieved breath was inhaled deeply, Alestrial received a numbing shock in courtesy of the Serpent of Histalonia.

"Surely you heard my words on killing a bunch of mongrel dogs back at the Dwarven longship, no? How will you judge me if I'm to tell you right here that Eliador de Lioncourt is never one to lie over statements of similar kind?"

"I'll gladly call you a liar because a deceitful tongue can destroy a nation far greater than murderers taking countless lives."

"Good for you then," Eliador de Lioncourt answered with a slippery smile, frigid orbs akin to massive tempest nullifying any a vibrant spring’s warmth, "Because you could have ended up a whore worthy of a thousand men compared to your friend capable of merely twenty."

"You bastard…"

If Eliador took notice of such an insult from his most prized trophy, he bothered no effort in giving her any assurance.

Cursing like sellsword, you are indeed born a False Noble, Milady Eliaden…

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“Bitch…” muttered Amelia Lillien darkly, a green eyed glare narrowing against a beautiful maiden whose snowy mane fell unto her smooth bare shoulders.

As if detecting her grumblings from afar, the fair lady placed a finger on her lips. Feeling intense heat creeping up her heart, Amelia slumped herself onto the cold wooden floor. If there were signs pointing to hysteria, nobody made their dissent heard.

“Vagrants’ Hearth,” smiled the devious girl, “A humble inn, but more than suffice to hold our meeting, ah’ni”

If a partial blond seated opposite was really her target of mirth, he merely gave a derisive grunt. Lars Alterfate was not amused towards Sarel’s petty show, his sympathetic gaze lingering briefly onto the dead girl’s back. Yet, he could see reason behind this sneering jape. This was a well maintained place, fire crackling always ready to warm weary feet during winter. The flooring was done in simple manner, planks of higher grade hardwood nailed together. Its rafts being made of identical material, the roof’s thatching was flaxen hay. Stools and tables made from finely cut granite entertaining none, Vagrants’ Hearth was now a hearth for vagrant dead.

“Enough of your games, ah’mou,” he snapped suddenly, ruby eyes now aflame, “You’re not like that!”

“As Nanaya no Geun’Jin or Grand Damsel of the Church?” smirked Sarel, her visage forcing Lars to question whether he should just devour her on the spot.

That’s the last life you’ve taken here!” shouted the raging man beast, silver gauntlets grabbing the collar of Sarel’s revealing top, “Don’t fuck around with a Demon Hunter, bitch!”

“Bitch?” a mocking sigh was given in reply, her ruby orbs twinkling with malicious mischief, “Why me? Or maybe why them?”

“Geun…” the Demon Hunter tried his hardest to rein in that furious animal, a bestial of thousand beasts roar threatening to merge as one.

It’s not her fault. It’s not Geun’s fault that she becomes like that. It’s…

“Your fault,” answered Sarel a-matter-of-factly, “All Lars ah’ni’s fault, Aera ah’neo didn’t wrong anyone.”

Deceased memory erupting to life once again, Lars understood the irony justifying Nanaya no Geun’Jin’s taunting truth. He remembered why things had gone this way, Aeranath’s wrathful howl still haunting his sleep. Kagetsu no Hyo’Ah was the glue binding every broken shard, she was the balm soothing his wounds.

You love me, don’t you?

“Yes, I do,” whispered a shattered Lars.

But I love Aera.

“Yes, I know that,” smiled a broken Lars.

Sorry, Lars. I…

“You don’t have to apologise, Hyo,” a resolute Lars snapped himself back to sanity, a commoner’s regal stature reverted.

“Lars, please… save ah’mou… my… no, our ah’mou. Minatani’s ahmou…”

Minatani, a first person formality referring to family… Lars Alterfate had failed horribly, Lars Alterfate got defeated totally. Nobody could save Nanaya no Geun’Jin now. At least not him, that is. A little wonder why he believed Guy Cody’s dream to be a frivolous thing of beauty.

Even a hero has to take a piss, it’s called to relieve myself. Any shit with that, Goldwanker?

Goldwanker… fate surely has its merry quirks, noted Lars mentally. But for now, he had to try saving one single soul because Hyo’Ah died without saving anyone. The Demon Hunter knew verily why Sarel invited him here, some half famous gathering for adventuring folk. Garyth Parkins was a renowned soldier of his time, impetuosity untimely cutting short his time.

Both as a warrior and mortal… way to go, Lars Alterfate, you might have created a potential enemy through this.

“Let’s talk about an alliance,” her grin remaining wide, Sarel leaned forward in a bid to tease her prey, “Sort of, anyway.”

“A fucking alliance with a pair of fucking tits,” retorted Lars, ironic humour not lost on the Grand Damsel’s ears, “So who’s that lucky bloke?”

“I’d like to fuck you otherwise,” the seductress drew herself back as continual goading kept her giggling, “A pity…”

“A pity Aera Darko might be harbouring some normal fantasy at last,” snorted the partial golden blond, “Won’t be surprised seeing him shagging some False Noble chick.”

Silence permeating a turbulent ambience, fire and ice clashing together. Both understood what each other wants, Edwood would be the biggest prize yet. Napishtim foresaw an absolute value in a victory every craven Senator remaining blind thereof, the Red Lions were to be Sarel’s only pawns. To Lars, victory means one entire world, inner senses telling him of she-who-is-mocked.

Lady of Eliaden… stupid bitches getting bitched, only intelligent people ain’t them.

“Is this the place? Are you two my partners?”

A lone hulking figure loomed before the Demon Hunter’s view, his youthful countenance setting off warning unspoken. As he stepped beyond the porch, aura most volatile assailed Lars’ supernatural senses.

Oh, monster and freak. Lucky me and luckier Geun…

“Name’s Arondight,” surly introduction promptly given before being asked for it, Lars Alterfate managed to find time and space for a jester’s jab nevertheless.

“Well met, finest Ser Arondight. Lars Alterfate at your service, surely you don’t mind letting this lowly squire here off your hook.”

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Background notes:

Ah'mou is the formal Cinha term for younger sister. Yes, this is East Asian rip off speaking here.

Histalonia is a massive island situated in between the Eastern Seas and Northern Seas, i.e. Eastern Seas being the oceanic territory adjacent to the Kalaran Empire and the Northern Seas being the same for Slarvea. Reviled for whatever moral vices running rampant, Histalonia managed to hold Causacean politics together through military neutrality and political diplomacy. Also Histalonians possess olive complexion, large beautiful eyes, and lustrous black hair. Try imagining them along the line of Hispanic/Middle Eastern people.

A/N: Inspired by the Iberian region. The naming is a combination of Hispania (His) and Catalonia (-talonia).

(Orang gatal’s) Final A/N: Histalonian women do have sexy curves. A certain article published by New Nation SG site must have messed my brain up a pretty good bit although I still subscribe to NN’s warped sense of humour.

Word of Maker: No Aeranath/Guy Cody this time round, paiseh. Original intent was to include their respective POV, but I would just end up risking too many shit, i.e. unwanted scene-to-scene lurching=Al Hussein x 10000000000.

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