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.

Wednesday, 31 July 2013

Beckoning Tempest-A Lion's Pride

"Remember clearly why you have to live, others surely won't. For even the noblest of heroes have to survive firstly and foremost."
~Garyth Parkins
Year of Birth-NE 200
Year of Death-NE 241


A Ranger's Tale


“So how’s…”

“The patient? Fine, if I say so myself. At least he lives to fight another day…” snorted the poulter in reply to Ross’ concern, “Tell him not to start a fight he cannot win, that’s my advice to the old fart.”

Ross could only stay her tongue as the middle aged man departed in a huff, knowledge of Twong’s temperament being the cause. Looking back at the poultice lodge, the kindly matron pursed her lips. With nary a single word uttered from his mouth, Twong could only rely on wild gestures and incoherent grunts, his struggle against another man’s probing hands proving to be absolute comedy. Indeed only two individuals understood this grouchy old man. Ross was one, Yeovil the other.

“Old fart hates getting touched no matter where, figured you should have known it years ago.”

In spite of his customary barbs, Ross giggled out loud in the middle of a garden finely manicured. Out of the trio, Yeovil was the second oldest after Twong, yet no one else knew his shady past. When she’s merely servant lass of fifteen winters, this rotund man before her laughing eyes was still in jail. If not for Louthes Eliaden reaching a decision to pay his freedom price, Yeovil the Sword would have faced the hangman in public view. Twong at that time was already House Eliaden’s oldest servant and Houseman, the addition of an outlaw angering him to no end. Louthes was content to enjoy their bickering fights, Ross would always be amused by his constant japes amounting to calling Twong a bald old jackass.

“So how’s the girl?”

Caught off guard by Yeovil’s abrupt question, Ross could only nod dumbly. Snorting his approval, the portly man departed with a curt, yet civil salute. Shaking her head in resignation, the kindly maidservant smiled wistfully as Yeovil entered yet another unpredictable bout. Previously, he had thrashed half a tavern. Before then, he entered a joking fest with a group of unnamed youths half way through. Mayhap there’s really a truthful nugget when Louthes received a warning in cynical jest.

This is Yeovil the Sword, number one cutthroat plying his trade on the Endless Straits.


“You sure you don’t know a thing?”

Hye’Na shook her head timidly in front of Yeovil’s iron stare. When Simple Melys sent word that the Head of Home Guards was searching for her, she was still wondering whether it’s due to her snacking secretly in the pantry. Never had she witness the jovial old man displaying such menacing look, a paranoid suspicion suddenly surfaced within her quavering from, that he might just rape her on the spot. After all, flattering compliments were drawn to her like bees to honey, it seems that being different do have its own unique factors.

“Hey, sexy lady! You look pretty lonely here! Wanna have some fun with us?”

“Wow, I really envy whoever the lucky bastard scoring with you… oops, excuse my rudeness, ha ha…”

“You really look like our recently departed Young Mistress… must be because you’re a Cinha as well…”

“Good,” muttered Yeovil, his expression lightening up. As he got up from the wooden chair, he gave her slender shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Stay away from your saviour, for he’s a dark one and reeks of blood.”

Abrupt gale suddenly assailing her covered back, the attractive Cinha maid realized she forgot to close the window. It was daytime and she couldn’t risk getting caught for pilfering food. It wasn’t her wrong to be born with a heavy appetite, getting out as soon as possible became her first priority. Aeranath found her a job and lodging, may the Sanshinki damn her if she let him down.

As she locked the oaken door, she snuck a final look back. ‘Tis a mere simple shack made of stone and wood, Unmei no Hye’Na wondered whether Yeovil was right in judging the unknown Ranger.


“Why did you admit you’re part of them?”

I looked up at him in annoyance. Who's he to boss me around? Not even Ceres does that and she’s pretty much the fiercest girl I've ever come across.

“Because I want to be truthful, that’s why!”

A roaring laughter disturbed the nighttime sky, that man’s visage showing plenty of humour. I never saw someone so weird before, this isn't about manners. Yeah I got myself into stupid situations and my life is full of problems, but does he have to be so blunt? Ceres once said laughing is good for you, laughing at other people is not.

Then he ceased making noise, his towering back facing towards me. Without turning back once, he walked away from my life. When we first met, he called himself a bastard. I don’t know what the word means, but I heard the grown-ups using it many times. Ceres told me not to copy their example though.

“Saints don't exist, boy. So long as you retain the courage to admit your flaws and face this cruel world, ten years from now you'll be a splendid man.”

A splendid man? No one has ever said I’ll be a splendid man. Not even Ceres or Abel. Yet, this bastard can cast a large shadow indeed. A shadow larger than greatest of all heroes…


“So the cub is now awake. Have you grown up a little more?”

Guy Cody looked at the speaker with wary eyes narrowed, sapphire flames simmering within his soul. That bastard remaining alive after all, the young lion desired not to know the reason why. Spring was nearing its end, his blood coursing like burning magma. Memories of combat training in Merseyside staying fresh in his mind, Guy could still remember it was summer back then.

If the Ranger felt any apprehension from Guy’s glaring look, he did not make it show. Lounging casually on a cheap leather couch, his posture was deceptively languid. He could have invited himself an attack, the Kalaran lad was not stupid enough not to notice a longsword sheathed resting against the shoulder. However, the most damning part was the fact that both are in his lodging room.

“Excuse me…” whispered a pretty Sudhlit lass as the hardwood door opened slightly.

“Excuse me, but what you want?” snapped Aeranath peevishly, “A shag with two real men instead of one?”

“Stop this bullshitting, fucker,” snarled Guy, “Ithi’s been through plenty of…”

“Trauma,” finished the True Apostle, “Is that what you want to say? You golden retard, that’s what whores are paid for.”

The lone wolf did not have to wait long for this young lion to crack under his taunting bite, curling snarl and a piercing roar ripped asunder the tense quiet air. Smirking like an actual bastard born, Aeranath merely rooted himself on the spot, azure jewels of icy fire scrutinising sapphire orbs of heated steel. As for the raging lion, he pinned his quarry against the greying wall, simmering anger lending strength to a forearm choking against the obnoxious fellow’s neck.

“This is a whorehouse, I can smell the bitches from five miles out,” Aeranath’s smile retaining still, mirth stark as bare naked sword dissipated like burning flames snuffed out by wintry cold, “Don’t tell me you paid for this kind of room.”

Yeah I paid for the room, you bastard.

Irony behind his thoughts not lost unto him, Guy Cody suddenly remembered a certain episode where he saved a noble girl from getting raped by equally noble lads.

“Fuck you! We paid for her lips and holes!”

“Okay, so what else’s new?”

“Not too shabby for a shitty county, I supposed,” withdrawing his smug expression altogether, Aeranath never bothered himself over his visage exposed in front of a flabbergasted Sudhlit girl, “Wooden floor, wall made of stone… so what else’s new?”

“Cheap bed, cheap lodgings, plenty of shit facing a piss poor bunch. Does that answer your curiosity?”

The gruff speaker turned out not to be Guy Cody, but Moggray Tonn. Majestic build greeting the True Apostle instead of further words, Aeranath offered a nonchalant shrug as his choice compliment. Locking stares against each other, a stifling silence soon made way for tension unspoken, Guy’s heart started to beat rapidly. Any pace faster, the sandy blond would doubt he’s able to survive any longer. Resting a casual hand on his sheathed sword’s hilt, the Ranger approached Moggray’s stiffening form with a lazy swag. Betraying only faintest of wicked smile, Aeranath drifted past the Gaffer of Teesside Division…

…and promptly continuing his stroll without intentional accidents committed.

“Boy,” barked out the Ranger as he took a glance back, his action gone not unnoticed by Guy’s sharpest eye, “Just want to give you some worthy praise.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. That will make me look stupid.”

Maniacal laughter erupting forth, the young lion from Teesside was served a callous reminder of that most damning day in his life.

“After today’s patrolling round, I’m gonna get married, Guy.”

“Good for you, Catts. Elys’ a nice girl, you’re an enviable bastard. Just remember to send invitation.”

“Sure, cretin. At least you ain’t dumb enough to compliment her bedroom skills. I’m the only one who deserves this right, hope you score some girl soon.”

“Been ten years plus one, you’re a splendid lad now,” came the derisive verdict delivered, “Try harder and you’ll be a wonderful man.”

Ithi was roughly shoved into Guy’s room as Aeranath stalked away from everyone’s wide eyed sight. Moggray was shocked by the Ranger’s whimsical tantrum thrown, Ithi blushing furiously after noticing herself somehow in a young lion’s grasp. As for the Sudhlit harlot’s only guardian, he could only afford a frown knitting his brows together, swirling thoughts wondering what had forced a curtly warm tone one decade ago into bitter cynicism.

Bah, fuck it, Guy Cody. Just fuck it and leave him be…


“Karen, I did say this is a dumb idea,” quavered a petite brunette, her raven haired companion trying to erect a brave front before a lustful trio.

“Well, not so a dumb idea since our customers do have exotic tastes,” leered a lean wiry lad, “They would pay a fortune for noble whores.”

“Hey! We’re the nobility!” snapped Karen’s friend, “This is Lady Joenne of House Nances and the noble girl behind me is…”

“Lady Karen of House Tenias,” growled the oldest of three, “How can I forget her face after what her good-for-nothing father did to my only child? To think this happened only two years ago…”

“I… I…”

“I’m sorry for my father’s deeds, right?” snapped the youngest member who looked merely twelve winters old, hot tears streaming down his reddened cheeks, “Try telling that to your old man’s cock! Ol’Jorg’s filly was supposed to be my only friend! Granad Tenias brutally raped her to death!”

“Uh, Karen…” gulped Joenne, “I don’t like where this is going…”

“Allow this humble boy come to your fairest aid then.”

“Huh?” before the wiry youth could register the change in situation, a brutal gash was drawn across his throat while disembowelled on the spot. The remaining two trembled before an androgynous brunette lad dressed in fine linen clothes, a pair of daggers gleaming red toyed about under dimming torches. No joy was shown nor grief, only an expression devoid of emotions. This was truly a puppet made of flesh and bone.

“So what’s your call?” came his deceptive whisper, “Coin or vengeance, life or death? I’ll only count till three.”

Jorg became the first victim as he roared in anger, a dagger biting deeply into his left eye. The unnamed boy could only soil himself before such brutal sight, his only kin weeping geysers of blood. Karen tried gripping onto Joenne’s hand, she soon realised her only solace had slipped into coma. Her heart racing rapidly akin to a mare desperate for escape, she could only rally a certain memory four years back…

…that of a boy towering like a man, a youth casting a very large shadow indeed over her near naked form.

“Forgive me, for Lukas Brun is no hero,” muttered the brown haired lad almost apologetically, his condolences sounding like a horn after slaughter. Hazel green gaze then turned its hunger onto a half-naked Karen Tenias, the inevitable about to befall.

“Most amazing grace not to call this city’s Watch! Heard you calling yourself Lukas Brun.”

The only child of House Tenias tensed up considerably, a familiar stranger greeting her. A man who saved her from getting raped by slavering Orcs, this was an enigma which aroused many questions left unanswered. A Ranger, sellsword, just another victim of her father’s cruelty…

…and mayhap even a non-mortal entity also.

“Got myself busted, huh?” sighed Lukas Brun, his battle stance readied. If the Ranger had any opinions on his latest opponent, however, he never made it show. Not even a slightest smile, that is.

“Let me guess…” mused the dark sellsword, a gloved hand stroking his pointed chin, “Both legs slightly apart with back crouched like a cat… no, this posture of yours is more streamlined… more like a swimmer earning his keep in the sea. So what’s your Truth? Mine’s a wolf, now your turn.”

If there should be any expectations, it would be a dagger flying into the face. Karen got up in response, she cared not for whatever flagrant nudity exposed. Before she could utter a screaming statement, a flock of crows supplanted her presence. Incessant cawing from carrion birds failing to dull a duel’s fatal edge, Aeranath grabbed the weapon by its hilt in middle of flight.

A split instance opening his target up, Lukas Brun dived in for the kill. Crimson fluid was spilt, the blood not belonging to the attacker. The defender never flinching, death was kept leagues away at bay. A grey gauntleted hand being sole sacrificial offering, Lukas instead received a longsword’s keenest bite.

“You took my hand, I can take your life,” with nary a mirth present, a knee was shoved into Lukas’ abdomen leaving his winded. Final statement exacted by the Ranger, his blood shed moments earlier was splattered across Lukas Brun’s beautiful face via a simple flick. Yet, the androgynous brunette refused to bend his knee.

“Good resilience here, dolphin. This wolf is called Aeranath,” flickering sneer accompanying an impromptu introduction, another party abruptly joined the fray.

“Lukas? What the fuck you’re doing here?”

“My, my… ‘tis an unlucky day to get yourself busted,” japed Lukas wryly, “Sorry there, pal.”

Silvery flash streaking towards a startled Guy Cody, only a strong hand halting its course prevented an outright gory death. Fingers handling the finely crafted blade accurately, Moggray Tonn’s rugged build truly belied an astonishing dexterity.

“Sorry there, son,” quipped the Teesside veteran, “Not used to having half a hand instead of one.”

If fair Lukas Brun possessed any answer to the Northern Lion’s sarcasm, nothing was said, for nothing got left behind.

“Slippery bugger slipped away,” grunted Aeranath, “Indeed only dolphins are intelligent enough to pick their own fights.”

“Enough of your childishness!” snapped the old lion, “We got three dead people up on our hands, I feel sorry for the smallest.”

“Don’t we all?” shrugged the True Apostle, “People die in war, one has to gut another to stay alive.”


“Erm… thank you very much, Guy,” blushed Karen, her current muted garb of brown creating a contrast with the simple baby blue dress torn off an hour earlier, “I never expected to meet you here…”

“It’s okay,” murmured the sandy blond, “I never expected people to see me in a whorehouse as well.”

“That’s not my meaning!” exclaimed the noble lady, “Even harlots…”

“…deserve respect?” chuckled the youthful lion, his sandy mane billowing along the sudden strong breeze, “No wonder Alestrial seemed particularly close to you… look around and tell me what you see.”

“Simple layout,” observed the raven haired beauty, “Everything you’ll end up imagining in a tavern.”

“And girls sold into slavery of worst kind,” growled the Kalaran beast in harsh reply, bluish fury flashing like a never ending storm, “Fucking hate this, guess you call it moral instinct.”

Karen giggled in spite of herself, the athletic lad realising what went wrong.

“Err… wait, I’m sorry… I mean…”

“No, ‘tis fine by me,” her sensual lips drew up a smile, “Do you remember that day when we first met? Or maybe I should call it night.”

“You look more like a dove than anything else. If nothing else, then I take my leave. Pardon me for not giving you  a farewell curtsy.”

Those were Guy Cody’s final words before his departure, Karen Tenias’ ever trustful heart reminding her why she chose to cast her lot with a commoner’s boy.

“I remember him standing over the fallen, Joenne. Guy Cody was merely a commoner's son and still remains so. Yet, I can never forget the moment where I witnessed a lion amongst men fighting for my chastity's sake despite being total strangers back then...”

Those words were spoken a day after said ordeal, this was also when the young Maistress of House Tenias ceased her self-indulgent ways.


“So how’s life, Gemma?” smiled Southgate Garrat wistfully before his aging old flame.

“Should I ask you how’s your family, Southgate love?” replied a slim middle aged woman decorated with little wrinkles, “Life as a whore is never easy, figured you should’ve known me.”

The stocky brunette could only suffer regret and heart pangs silently, understanding that some things are not meant to be only made his inner hell worse. Surveying the brothel he purchased for her, he really owed Parnaby Davow some massive debt which money could never resolve.

Don’t worry, Southgate. I got her well covered, I’m not gonna hound you for sum paid.

“So I heard you got into a fit again?”

“Only because Big Gun harassed Ithi and I don’t take kindly any horny bastard treating my girls any worse than they should,” hissed Gemma much to Southgate amusement.

“Funny to know I’ve been trying to evade you, but still guess I can’t forget the past,” a smoking trail was exhaled as the soldier enjoyed his final puff, irony behind his constant escape not lost on him.

“You got a wife, you can’t have me,” huffed the old hen of Pleasure Bode, “I made it bloody clear before, I’ll make it bloodier clear right here, right now.”

“Spare me please, Your Royal Lioness,” guffawing laughter breaking out suddenly, this wasn’t the first time Gemma saw her lover’s idiosyncrasy.

Your Royal Lioness… yep, that’s good enough to call him idiosyncratic. Might as well hurt his prideful ass now, who knows when we’ll meet again?

“I think Ithi likes him, I believe Ithi won't be the last to feel this way. Sorry, Southgate love. Lad is way better a charmer than you decades ago.”

“What? You mean Guy Cody? That’s a barking mad statement, Gemma. No offence intended though.”


Background notes:

A poulter is a physician working under any given noble House. Due to healing being an art much sought after, poulters are often pledged to their respective Houses for life with taking unofficial leave tantamount to high treason.

Sanshinki: Trinity pantheon of Furthest East, they serve as the Cinha's only deities. Its members are listed below.

He-Who-Must-Be-Given-Praise; Tsurugi no Gou'Ryeo-Depicted as a handsome youth tall and strong, he is the patron god of warfare. Legend has it that he led the first fathers of Cinha lineage to constant victory against the foul beings called Oni while riding without armour and armed with his fearful yedo, Ame no Habakiri.

She-Who-Is-Wise-And-Beautiful; Mirai no Silla-Depicted as a naked beautiful lady lithe and seductive, she is the matron goddess of politics and intrigue. Lauded for her ability in clairvoyance, she was said to be the mother of all civilisations. Her only weapon was a clear bronze mirror, Yata no Kagami.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Revealed; Rounin no Baekje-Depicted as a fourteen year old boy bearing an unsightly scarred countenance, he is rumoured to be the only son born from Tsurugi no Gou'Ryeo and Mirai no Silla. Shunned by his parents, he managed to strike a deal with them. In exchange for deity status, he cannot take any followers unless through their own choice. Known as the child god of every outcast, the necklace of precious stones held in his hand goes by the name, Yasakani no Magatama.