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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.

Monday, 5 August 2013

Beckoning Tempest-A Wolf's Journey

"To win a war, you must win battles. To be the only victor, you must understand defeat. I've seen countless wars lost by one battle and many wars won by a single victory."
~Heihou no Tae'Geuk




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A Ranger's Tale

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Frigid wind whipping the fair Elf’s golden mane, his partner in tryst gazed at a naked back. Lukas Brun knew too well what Harbour Fort means to Histalonia, it was absolutely mocking to see his room overlooking a massive sea port. For one, it should be Eliador’s room deserving this bird’s eye view, not his. Secondly, said room belonged to Eliador prior to whatever arrangement.

The room was something of a beauty, drawings depicting war and romance adorning its pure white walls. Then he realised Alestrial Eliaden’s room might not be so different, mayhap even better. Then his thrice damned lover turned towards him, storm grey eyes mocking riches owned by fallacy. Making no move in shunning a bedfellow, the androgynous brunette stayed quiet as the greatest crime lord The Known World had ever seen sat down beside him. A brief kiss ensued as Eliador de Lioncourt broke off contact just as swift. Then he left Lukas’ hazel green sight with a plain yellow robe shrouding nudity lithe, his last words for the night striking a haunting chord.

Once a wolf, forever a wolf, such is the way of life. Have you ever seen one giving up its hunt? I know his desires, who he wants dead. One does not live that long without earning many a scar and failure.

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“He took Karen!” snarled Granad Tenias before an impassive Louthes Eliaden, the Home Guards of House Eliaden tensing up. House Tenias was indeed minor nobility, but its patriarch was also known to be volatile and violent at times.

“Unfortunately, I do not know where this Ranger you speak of is,” answered back the noble with an iron mane.

“This Ranger you speak so highly of,” corrected a female adviser standing behind, “For peaceful alliance’s sake, I beseech Lord Eliaden to conduct a search.”

“Peaceful alliance?” scoffed the lightly armoured veteran, “What peace is there between me and him? I hanged his brother-in-law for desertion, what peace is there between a loyal commander and a disloyal man?”

“Fine, then,” Granad sucked in his breath as he grabbed his adviser roughly by the hand, “My daughter shouldn’t associate herself with any dubious harlot anyway. This woman will do for now.”

“Mi…” protested the adviser before a stinging slap cut off her protesting words.

“You want to address me properly, make sure you please me properly first!”

“No! Please, I beg you…”

“Foolish men will always beget foolish children,” sighed the Knight Lord hours after his dastardly counterpart left, steely eyes wandering down to the bustling streets, “Thankfully, I do not have to say ‘begone!’ to Granad Tenias, At least not this time round.”

“So you’re saying Granad is a fool, but his wife isn’t?” questioned an impressionable youth armed, “Maybe that’s why…”

“Karen Tenias should just be like her useless father,” came the snapping reply, “She’s thankful that a busybody changed her life! Konnor Ripels, there are many things for you to learn, for you are just a boy drafted as my Home Guard.”

“I am sorry, Milord,” apologised young Konnor sheepishly, “I…”

“No apologies needed,” sighed the aging noble, his gaze hard as steel resuming its glare, “Wars happen for a reason, I know what Granad is dreaming of. My daughter’s hand is reserved only for a worthy man, no scoundrel should soil her chastity with his dirty seed.”

Konnor Ripels entered silence together with his fellow Home Guards, all who were older than him. As they followed their liege in rank and file formation, Konnor stole one final glimpse at a wooden picture frame turned face down by his master.

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“Congratulations for warranting a manhunt,” quipped Moggray Tonn, steel grey orbs observing a smug Aeranath, “Not only have you pissed House Tenias off, even House Eliaden received your middle salute.”

“And is that my problem?” shrugged the True Apostle, “I could have tested myself how fine is that lady’s ass, I never said anything about being Louthes’ obedient bitch.”

“Idiot!” flared up the veteran, “You could have followed Louthes Eliaden instead of walking all the way here! Granted you didn’t do anything to Lady Karen, but Granad Tenias is another fish altogether.”

“All the way here? Hah! I was merely walking no more than five miles out!”

“That’s the problem! Only five miles apart and Lord Louthes can easily flush you out! What are you thinking, implicating everyone in your merry little game?”

“This,” an answering smirk accompanying a middle finger raised, the Ranger cared not for whoever he riled.

“Fine then,” glowered the Northern Lion, “Do not say I never warned you.”

“Bye then!” called out the Ranger, “Remember to send my best regards to the boy!”

As the wooden door slammed shut before his azure orbs, Aeranath adopted an irate stance with a phantom materialising being his target.

“So are you the one ratting me out again?”

“After two weeks sticking around the lot?” replied a mirthless Ziron, “Get real, please. If I wanted to stab you behind in the shadows, I would have done so many years ago! Aeranath, do you know there’s someone keeping an eye on you?”

“If it’s the Church, then I’ll have to kill you first.”

Ziron smiled wanly in front of a threat easily discerned, especially if his charge was the speaker. He had taught a young Aeranath the arts of survival, a decision tantamount to encouraging distrust in a child. The True Apostle was a boy once, this boy turned out to be a man of many deaths.

Do not trust any man more than his worth, do not buy any woman’s words more than her value. Even a child demands payment due, every person is born a sinner.

Attempts in silencing his own words spoken to Aeranath countless years ago proved to be futile, Ziron, Lord of the Lancers, could only forge ahead. Was everything a mistake?

“Shit’s a mistake,” growled the dark sellsword, a bare hand ruffling his snowy hair in frustration, “That boy was supposed to be someone I can never be, I end up making him a potential hero.”

“He wants to be one,” commented the wistful mentor.

“I only taught him how to live an upright life!” roared a lone wolf scarred, “He could have fucking done so, but hell no he didn’t!”

“Is Guy Cody not an upright man?” asked Ziron.

“He will be once he decided not to kill people,” gritting his teeth in anger, Aeranath couldn’t be sure who should be his target of ire, “Only morons will believe heroes are not murderers.”

“Our talk is going nowhere, Aeranath,” dissipating himself in front of apathy personified, Ziron offered his last advice, “I believe you should know Eliador de Lioncourt is planning his next move. The Serpent is dangerous indeed, his wiles nobody can read. Not even me, let alone any living mortal.”

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“Wait… so you’re saying… that we have a…” spluttered Southgate Garrat, “Gemma, this ain’t a joke!”

“Why should I blackmail you when I could have swindle a rich man or better?” glowered Gemma, “And to set the record straight, being rich or an elite means you’re a born sucker.”

“So… who’s our…”

Before the soldier could formulate his imminent question, a massive explosion rocked Pleasure Bode. Patrons fled and the girls were left cowering. Southgate reached for his weapon, only for Gemma to hand him a sword.

“This is my father’s sword. Nothing valuable, only a mercenary’s weapon.”

“That’ll do, Gemma. Thank your father in heaven for me,” smiled the stocky brunette. Yet, before he could act, a familiar face graced his own presence down the stairs.

“Fucking idiot!” exclaimed Southgate, “Do you know…”

“What the fuck am I doing?” snarled a dark visage mired in darker rage, his finger gloved jabbed forcefully into Southgate’s chest, “I know what the fuck I am doing, so don’t boss me around. I’m gonna cool myself down somewhere, make sure I have a better room once I’m back.”

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“So the conversation didn’t go so well?” asked Guy Cody as Moggray Tonn took another sip of wine, “Gaffer, forgive me when I say you don’t really drink wine.”

The grizzled veteran chortled heartily, a strong hand slapping the surprised youth on his back. The sandy blond had just taken a break from training Gemma’s girls, Ithi was the only one staying.

“Stop!” chided the Sudhlit, “You’ll hurt him!”

“He’s no more a cub,” winked the Northern Lion, “He’s already a lion, a hero in the making. Ithi, you should be honoured instead of angry.”

Guy gave an irritated groan as he foresaw whatever implications to follow. The bards always enjoyed singing tales of heroes saving many and earning many beautiful women’s love. In particularly, Lannos the Thieving Knight was a favourite amongst the boys and detested by grown-ups, for it’s been commonly sung that Lannos accomplished many a valiant feat and had pleasured the finest of ladies.

Way to go, Gaffer. Lannos is a legend, Guy Cody is a living legend.

Then a blinding flash erupted, shocking all watchers to their very core. The wary young lion did not understand the angry man’s intent, but he knew only fools would pursue a wrathful beast.

If I’m part of the Red Lions, then what is he? Monster or a wolf?

“Look out!” shrieked Ithi, “There are men coming!”

“Oh shit, after one fucker freed, twenty more offered,” grinned Moggray viciously, “Guy, take your girl into the main hall, I’ll hold them back. I don’t see any bloke armed with guns or bows, this should be damned easy.”

Guy Cody quickly ushered Ithi inside, there was no need to add a cautious voice. Lukas was right in calling Moggray Tonn a stubborn jackass, Guy hoped he would be right in trusting his Gaffer.

“Twenty men, twenty shagging session? Gate got busted, so will you.”

If the twenty had any answer to the Northern Lion’s taunt, they merely replied through flashing steel and blood running their cutthroat veins…

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“Twenty men under my gold, twenty men dead…” growled a bestial Granad Tenias, his previous adviser ploughed into total submission, “The Northern Lion, huh?”

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“Milord, the firstborn son of House Steele seeks your audience,” announced Konnor Ripels, “Shall I…”

“No, let him in,” waved off Louthes, “And leave us alone as well.”

The young Home Guard bowed reverently, his voice clear as trumpet’s call.

“Hail young Jase, son of Brynn Steele, unto Lord Eliaden’s grace! Blessed is the bold by the Holy Quintet!”

“So what’s your business with House Eliaden?” questioned Louthes bluntly once the duo was left alone.

“Firstly, please allow this lowly boy to offer his highest family’s regards,” knelt the ginger lad, “My lord father, Brynn Steele, sends his iron respect.”

“Rise, young Jase,” offered Louthes his hand, “Sit in front of me and I shall hear what your father has to say. After all, Brynn has always been my better and superior in military affairs.”

Jase promptly placed a right fist onto his left chest, Louthes clenched his offered hand in return. Mutual respect sealed, Louthes poured himself a glass of wine. Observing the surroundings, Jase noticed a simple layout. With nary a decoration adorning timber made walls, furnishing was sparse bar a stone table and a pair of wooden stools.

“Vintage Bordeu?” proffered Louthes, “We, the men of war, call it ‘truce wine’ for most obvious reason.”

“Your offer is much appreciated, Milord,” curtsied Jase, “Yet ‘tis unfortunate to remember my lord father’s teaching.”

“Do not apologise, for great men will never do so for the sake of principles,” smiled Louthes, “You have a lot to learn and many more battles to fight. Here, sit and I will pour you some tea instead.”

“Water please, a hundred gratitude,” sat down Jase.

“Brynn is truly a good father,” sighed Louthes, “Fine, let’s cut the chase. Firstly, I need a favour from you. Be known that I’m not talking to your father.”

Jase laughed out in good humour, this was the first time he felt so much at home since becoming a squire to House Tenias. As he relaxed further, the elder noble made his request heard.

“I need your help in organising a search. I have somebody waiting to be tracked down, I believe he should be a familiar face.”

“A familiar face? Surely…” grimaced Jase.

“Yes, that Ranger,” affirmed Louthes.

“That cur!” gnashing his teeth together, Jase’s hands balled themselves in fists of ire, “Lady Karen ran away because of him, now he has created further trouble?”

“I assume you will agree then,” curtsied a sombre Louthes, “A hundred gratitude in advance from this unwanted soldier.”

“Why are you hunting him down also, lord uncle?”

Eying Jase’s emerald gaze, Louthes suddenly remember what Aeranath said to him.

“I’m under no obligation to bend over for you, Milord. Have I made myself courteous enough?”

“Because the Ranger insulted your lord uncle’s honour, that’s why.”

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“Aera, have you ever thought about love?”

“Love? I only understand how to make love, people call it fucking.”

They say you can never buy Hyo’Ah’s expression, I’m glad my tongue is the most valuable asset alive.

“Hentae! Why do you men enjoy thinking about sex and more sex?”

Because that’s what men are born to do, stupid girl. Thankfully, Lars spoilt my fun before I can say everything out.

“Hey, Hyo! Heard there will be a kei two ri ahead! Geun has already prepared our kitaka, let’s go!”

A kei? Sounds fun to me since there will be countless pretty girls. Unfortunately, I know Hyo’Ah will bar me from going there. Life’s a bitch…

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“Wake up, Aera Darko!”

If daylight was incapable of waking Aeranath up, icy water splashed on his face would surely do the trick. Reinvigorated in an instance, the True Apostle could only stare daggers against a long-time face.

“Brook nearby, we’re in a mountain surrounded by forest,” smiled the partial blond sadly, “I really wish everything can be just like how everything should be. You’ve gotten yourself dead drunk in middle of the night.”

“Spare me your bullshit,” snarled Aeranath, “If Hyo’Ah is still here with us, she’d say the same thing also!”

“So he’s our ally promised,” murmured an impassive statement brimming with volatility, “I expected better from a skilled drunkard…”

“No, he’s much better than all, Ser Arondight. There are no men like Aeranath, only the man himself. I, Lars Alterfate, can assure you that.”

The Ranger surveyed his predicament, instinct tempting him to start a fight or two. Yet, while terrain was favourable to him, he knew perfectly what a Demon Hunter is capable of. Coupled with an unknown entity supposedly mortal…

“If you want a deal, it’s a deal you get,” answered the True Apostle, “But after that…”

“You’ll get your death duel, I promise you that,” assured Lars.

“Your promise means nothing, my statement means everything,” muttered Aeranath darkly, his words not gone unheard by the last Demon Hunter’s ears.

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Background notes:

Iron respect: Any show of well wishes or tributes sent between military men.

Hentae: Cinha slang for pervert.

Kei: Any quarter-annual festival held during the middle of every season, i.e. spring, summer, autumn, winter.

Ri: Cinha measurement for mileage, i.e. a ri equals a mile.


Kitaka: The Known World’s equivalent of kimono/yutaka.

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