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, 30 September 2013

Pride of Mortal Men

"The sword is meant to kill, not to love. Spear and lance are meant to make war, not peace. Shield is always worn by soldiers, armour is never for the helpless folk."
~Brynn Steele


A Ranger's Tale


“Moggray, why do you look so sad?”

I stare at the foolish girl who has yet to understand the impending doom. Quite decent looking, but I’ve seen better. This is a daughter belonging to Leric Rahm, an enemy of our Empire. As the cold autumn wind starts assailing the silent park, I’m reminded of what a soldier should do. Lying, cheating, and stealing just to obtain one hard earned victory, that’s the greatest bullshit ever.

“War is upon us, Yriss. Run away swiftly as you can, for bloodshed knows no tomorrow.”

“Huh? Moggray, you’re speaking funny!”

Oh fuck, there comes the signal for war. A screaming hawk soaring midair with talons impaling a dead hare… Moggray Tonn, you’re gonna die alone and without a coin, I’m sure of this.


The hardened veteran from Teesside sat up from his bed, orbs of greying steel taking a glimpse or two at bustling life outside below. He had believed the thrice damned war was already over nineteen winters ago, one man’s wish could never change the world. He remembered the horrors brought forth by war, blood spilt and helpless screams taunting his inner world.

Hey, Moggie! Yar late! No bitches left for ye, sorry to break it to ya!

With a roar shaking the surrounding peaceful calm, the Northern Lion threw a nearby vase out from the window pane. Spiteful bitterness cursing those causing Yriss Rahm her tragic fate, Moggray Tonn’s sole enemy became himself. He loathed the fact that he’s now lodging in a brothel, he detested seeing girls around Yriss’ age selling themselves. All for the sake of what, the jaded lion questioned his own reflection within a bronze mirror tall and mocking.

“You and my love have arms and honour, the girls and I only have tits and nothing else.”

“If you got a problem with that, it means you have a problem with reality,” grumbled Moggray darkly, Gemma’s words last night not lost on him. Having nary of a problem with that old hen, the ex-Gaffer’s struggle was a fire burning against his ilk. Or was it a fire incinerating himself instead?

Sorry, boss. I tried, but Yriss… I’m afraid she’s already...

An aging soul baptised by a deluge of self-derision, this was one of Southgate’s very few sombre moments. Moggray understood his second only too well, that Southgate Garatt was extremely easy to read even by a stranger’s standard. Frustration bringing trouble till no end, Moggray decided to take a bite downstairs. But not before a thoughtful jape surely sardonic.

Hopefully with no tits bared…


Morning was a blanket of rain, stoves of stone made merry meal after meal. So long empty stomachs exist, breakfast will not be far away. Teesside always had to endure cold and rain, its folks forced to learn the meaning of strength. For Southgate Garatt, a growling stomach means a happy stomach…

“You’re eating like some professional glutton, Southgate love. Some things never change,” sighed Gemma wistfully, “Some people to be exact.”

“Can you blame me for your cooking skills?” complimented the stocky brunette, his mouth still partially filled, “You’re especially good with bacon and eggs. Which is what I’m eating now.”

“Fuck it, Southgate,” Gemma threw her arms up in resignation, “Since when should I love some common swine incapable of basic manners? Go wash your own dishes after you’re done. I’m off to check on Joyce.”

As Gemma walked off to a corner, Southgate discovered how much Pleasure Bode remained the same since that fateful split.

Pleasure Bode. There, I’ve named it. And please don’t ask me when I’ll demand payment. Take it as some deal too good to pass up.

“Fuck you, Parns,” snorted Southgate in good humour, “Whatever happens to Teesside’s iconic smuggler all those years back?”


“I’m not lying!” protested a young girl pretty and with raven hair reaching down her back, “His cock is that big!”

“Who has a big cock? I’m interested to know,” chimed a voice all too familiar, “Care to enlighten this old hen here?”

As the girls shuffled out nervously, young Joyce was left to her own devices. Giggling sheepishly, the girl of sixteen winters displayed a jangle of nerves. Gemma was always a kind matron to everyone, even Joyce’s occasional escapades failed to faze her. This time round, however, she was talking about some free loader. And Gemma normally wouldn’t entertain unwanted bums.

“Ah… it hurts, old hen!” exclaimed Joyce, a painful wince indicating the force Gemma used to twist her ear.

“Does it hurt? Good.”

Her pain promptly relieved, Joyce could only rub gently her red sore ear. Gemma opted to look on with arms folded, her glances flirting with the main square’s mundane surroundings. Everything was simply arranged, there were no expensive flowers cultivated or exotic ferns dangled around. Only plain vases made from clay and cheap budding flowers lined a set of wooden terraces, the one other prominent sight being a stone pavilion worn out by merciless years.

“I’m not talking about those two geezers,” whined the lass, “I’m talking about Ithi’s love!”

“Ithi? What has she done this time round?” Gemma raised an eyebrow upon voicing her concern, “Did anyone commit some untoward act? I swear that girl can be gullible at times.”

“Most of the time,” corrected Joyce, Gemma reciprocating her favour with a glower hard as granite.

“I don’t like tales being told, so spit it out, little girl.”

“Well,” Joyce began blushing fiercely, her index fingers fidgeting with each other, “It’s just an accident. I swear I didn’t peep at Ithi and that man conducting business for free.”

“Good then,” nodded the old hen.

“Huh? You mean…”

“I’m not fine with horny men taking advantage of Ithi,” Gemma cut off whatever statement Joyce intend to make, a casual severing gesture more than suffice to send home her point, “If it’s other men, I would snip off their berries and hang them on an apple tree. Not that young lion though.”

“You mean Guy?” gushed a puppy eyed Joyce, “I mean…”

“…he’s taken, Joyce. Even Jenn knows that.”

“But Jenn is our watchdog, not one of us!”

“A bitch accustomed to enjoying her heat. I know that sounds insulting, so do you mind checking when her next litter is due?”

“I hate you!”

Gemma chuckled mirthfully, the sight of Joyce sticking out her tongue filling her with plentiful mirth. Joyce was her own daughter, which mother would dare say she doesn’t understand what’s going on?

“Joyce, I know you like Guy Cody, I also know you want his cock.”


With noon creeping near, the sun was finally out. From late morn till early dusk, this was to be the only constant period where folks are able to enjoy sunshine. Ale both pale and dark flowed freely, boisterous merry making resounded with impunity.

‘Wait, so you fucked her?” gasped Biggan, a green grubby hand slapping a serving wench’s shapely butt.

“Stop that,” snapped an irate Guy, his hand tightening its grip on a half full tankard, “I know you have a big gun, but no point showing off your horny glory.”

“Erm, did I?” asked the annoying Goblin, an innocent façade barely disguised.

“No point letting others beholding your gun,” hollered a lazy drawl, “As somebody understanding bitches, I can assure you nothing good comes out of this.”

Her arrogant swagger unmistakably true, the one eyed Half Elf pulled a wooden stool away from some unsuspecting patron. Paying little interest to the resultant guffaws and a cursing woman forcibly held back, Guy’s object of displeasure made herself at ease.

“Why such a dirty look?” smirked the impudent redhead, “I prefer my boys to be tame.”

“Because you delayed our voyage by two cycles!” snarled a lion with patience frayed, “Listen, bitch…”

“No more of this nonsense,” licking her lips flagrantly, the voluptuous Half Elf knew how to play her game, “Or I’ll fuck you thrice tonight. Is that your threat? You make me want to fuck a lion.”

“Hate to break this to you, big tits Lara, but you’re lucky that pretty ass girl ain’t snooping around,” grinned Biggan as he joined in the fracas, “Guy’s a gentleman without manners.”

“Bah!” scoffed Lara, “That royal good girl is waiting to be bad and we both know how hard our bravest lion gets whenever his Lady Karen shows her ass.”

If there was any reaction from the sandy blond apart from fiery loins stirring, he merely suppressed it with a guttural growl. He remembered Aeranath, he recalled how that thrice damned Ranger whistled suggestively behind Karen. Lastly, he recounted those damning words.

Is it a sin to appreciate a fine piece of ass? I’m a man, same goes for you. Unless you’re gay, there has to be a positive response somewhere.

“Enough of your bullshit!” snapped the Kalaran youth, a sheer force of will being the only factor restraining his pulsating heart, “When can we start the sails? Answer me or begone!”

Begone to your bed naked and with my ripe tits hanging? Sounds tempting to me.

Gifting a sardonic smile upon such daring thought, Lara von Dirkwind chose to hold her tongue. Never withholding secrets concerning her sexuality, the only truth overshadowing her greatest infamy was an unrivalled skill in knife fighting. This was a confident pirate whose tight fitting garb of crimson corset and maroon pants complimented a fanciful pair of high heeled boots. Despite her prominent hourglass shape, many a foe had found his grave leagues under the sea. So much for an Half Elf content to play the harlot unless decided to act otherwise.

“Give me one more cycle,” winked Lara’s good eye, “Or rather less than one.”

With an assured posture, Lara spun gracefully away from her seat. If there was any response towards her swaying rear, only Biggan’s lustful sigh made his intent known. As for Guy, he did not like a single bit on what he’s getting. She claimed to be a pirate, a seafaring brigand. Yet, the sandy blond lad sensed something amiss. As if not only seafaring folks are capable of such profession, mused the lion, sapphire orbs never leaving his target.

Aubrun tresses caressing her bare smooth back strangely resembling Alestrial, a crimson bandage exposing an eye of clearest blue mocked Guy without fail. This was exactly what drives Guy Cody up against the wall, a seductress reminding him of his only love and only adversary. Searing pain then shot cruel barbs into his mind, memories of him branded deeply in his soul.

When you’ve lived long enough with something in hand, that’s where you realise life is all about laughing at whoever living it out. Good luck and good riddance, little boy.


“Lord uncle, the man you’re looking for is here,” bowed a reverent Jase Steele, “Thus I have fulfilled my duty, herein I now…”

“No, stay here,” answered an impassive Knight Lord, “I, Louthes Eliaden, bind you to.”

“As you wish, lord uncle.”

As heavy footsteps resounded inside his head, Louthes Eliaden did not even take a glance behind. He knew who his visitor is, certain things never change. A young nobleman and an equally young noble lady, separating the two stood a smallborne youth. That was more than two decades ago, yet age had failed to dull a Vanir’s edge. Emma should deserve better, noted the patriarch of House Eliaden in self-mockery.

“Moggray, when was the last time we met?” smiled Louthes, his customary hard look softening for a brief minute. If the veteran soldier felt any emotions welling up, he chose not to show. Folding his arms and seating himself without invitation, such casual attitude had Jase Steele and Konnor Ripels bristling in anger.

“Three years ago, it seems,” replied the Northern Lion nonchalantly, “By the way, nice room.”

“You find it nice?” smiled Louthes before Moggray’s scowl, “It’s just a simply furnished room in a bustling inn.”

Emma would love that, she’s one for simplistic beauty.

Realising the futility behind reminiscing, Louthes exiled his wistful thought. As a glass of Bordeu was poured out, Moggray proceeded to pour his own drink. A glass of plain water. If there was anything holding Jase and Konnor back, it would be their liege’s absolute command that no arms must be drawn, no matter the circumstances. Silence accompanied the duo sipping their drink, then came serious matters at hand.

“Moggray, I don’t like to beat around the bush, so here’s my deal. Tell me where the Ranger is, you know who I’m talking about.”

“Ranger?” scoffed the scarred man, “There’s no Ranger here, have you gone senile?”


“…don’t test my patience,” smirked Moggray abruptly, his face assuming a dark glower afterwards, “I’m also hunting for that son of a bitch. It’s either you believe my word or you can call me a swindler.”

“So he really did sneak away without notice,” mused the Knight Lord, a strong hand rubbing his chin, “What about Karen Tenias then?”

“Granad’s little girl is hidden somewhere unknown. I wish you good riddance in finding her.”

“You know what your decision constitute to? Moggray, I know…”

“…Granad’s character. Don’t we all?” scoffed Moggray with a shrug.

“Lord uncle, Lady…”

“Lady Karen is in safe hands, little boy,” wagged Moggray’s index finger, “By the way, you got airs of a warrior.”

“My father is Brynn Steele, does that ring a bell?” boasted Jase.

“Brynn Steele, hero of the masses, a butcher to the rest,” sighed the middle aged soldier, a hand ruffling his own shoulder length hair, “Sorry to break this to you, lad.”

“Please don’t be,” said the ginger lad proudly, his chin raised up, “So long as…”

Before Jase Steele could finish his sentence, Moggray roared like a wounded lion. A strong hand seizing the boy’s throat in a reverse grip, the other smashed him hard onto the cold wooden floor. For the first time in his life, Jase was utterly shaken. Not just physically, but mentally as well.

His face… ‘tis of a lion, not a man.

As he finished those words in his mind, the ginger lad felt suffocating pressure suddenly eased off. Getting up on his feet while coughing, Jase could not muster a sliver of courage to face his worst adversary. This was a lion walking amongst men, a beast grievously wounded. Old soldiers never die, such was Brynn’s teaching to his men.

“Enough!” a commanding shout reverberating throughout the room, order was swiftly restored. Louthes might already be a retired military man, but fires of war still burned brightly in his eyes.

“So I take it that our talk has finished, no?” replied Moggray, his muscular back facing Louthes, “Sorry for facing my ass towards you.”

“Moggie!” hollered a familiar voice with a stranger’s tone, a heartbreaking whisper following through, “I guess this is the last time I’ll call you that. Emma was right in choosing you.”

“And I was right in letting you have her,” sighed a weary Moggray Tonn as he turned back for the one last time, “Even though I know shit was anything, but happy. And one more thing before I go.”

“Do speak then, my comrade,” Louthes detested the final word, his ire directed against nobody bar himself.

“Take care of Brynn’s little boy. It’s one thing to have a ruthless father, quite another to understand why.”


“Three more days and your comrade will recover in a jiffy,” quipped the Poulter, “Don’t know whether I should call this good news though.”

“Thank you very much, good Poulter,” bowed Hye’Na, “Allow this humble servant girl to show you out.”

As the Cinha girl attended to her duty, Ross released a wistful sigh. Yeovil, on the other hand, betrayed no emotions. Less than a week had passed, yet everything seemed so different now. Twong would report back verily soon, Yeovil should be happy in seeing his old plaything return. Ross would laugh over Yeovil’s barbs and Twong frothing in anger, the only one amiss was…

“Don’t worry, Ross,” assured the portly man, “Young Mistress is a nice girl. I used to say nice guys finish last, but nobody ever said anything on nice girls finishing first.”

“But the new girl… don’t you think she…”

“Resembles our Young Mistress?” a dismissive wave was given in answer, “Only a Cinha, nothing more. Quite a fiery lass though, have to give her that.”

“But perhaps this is what Young Mistress should be,” tears welled up from Ross’ brown eyes, Yeovil offering his handkerchief in reply.

“I’d like to say that’s what our late Lord Lady should be as well,” chewing on his lower lip, Yeovil decided enough is enough.

“Ross, I need a puff or two. Excuse me for a while, I’ll be back within an hour.”


Night befallen, Teesside became deathly quiet. Children were now asleep, their parents put to rest their daily chores. Louthes sipped his Bordeu with nary a word, his gaze turning on numerous torches lining the dark alleys below. Remembering clearly why he undertook the Governor’s post, every image seemed like a jester’s laugh.

“Louthes, you don’t have to do this. Even if you desire a Governor’s post, why choose Teesside?”

“Because I want to do something worthwhile, because I do not want my life to be a waste. Don’t bother stopping me, Brynn. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Something worthwhile? Not wanting my life to be a waste?” chuckled the wearied knight, “Why yes, Brynn. I wasn’t lying to you back then, neither am I a liar now. Come in!”

“Lord Jase, firstborn of House Steele is here, Milord,” bowed Konnor Riples, “I hereby…”

“The both of you, stay,” gestured Louthes, “Take a seat in front of me.”

As the duo tried making themselves comfortable to no avail, Louthes poured them a glass of plain water each. Irony not lost unto them, both Jase and Konnor nevertheless accepted their liege’s offer. Moments passed and the clock kept ticking, all three present stayed silent. Then the most unexpected party broke the haunting silence.

“I just can’t understand it, Milord!” exclaimed Konnor.

“Why I allow Moggray Tonn to be?” smiled the aging knight, “It seems to me that your life is tantamount to coincidence, Konnor. Things do have a knack in falling into place where you are concerned.”

Taken aback by his master’s softening stance, the young Home Guard could only nod dumbly. Jase, on the other hand, stayed his tongue. Flashing a glance at the young scion, Louthes knew the time has arrived, that the moment of truth is now. A sip was all he took to rally courage faltered via time, mayhap his beloved Emma was right in those words.

“One fine day, we all will depart. Before then, our time must halt more than once. Living is not about how many you have, but how much you gain.”

“We used to be closest of friends. Me, him, and Emma,” a gasp in unison was heard, Louthes took no heed, “Moggray was literally special in a certain sense.”

“He’s a smallborne,” commented an impassive Jase, his assumption meeting approval in the form of a nodding head, “Do go on, lord uncle.”

“I don’t like to tell stories, so I’ll cut short the chase. When Emma reached her eighteenth birthday, a choice had to be made. Between me and Moggray,” the Knight Lord paid scant attention to his two charges’ shock, momentary pause being the only reprieve available.

“Lady Emma chose you,” assumed Jase.

“Moggray threw it willingly,” came the unexpected reply.

“But that’s because he shouldn’t vie for Lady Emma’s hand in the first place!” protested Konnor.

“He knew it way before you’re born,” smiled Louthes sadly, “Why I relate this story to you is very simple.”

Jase and Konnor felt their hearts tightened up, they foresaw where their short term future lies. Their liege maintained eye contact for a brief minute, his words verifying their suspicions.

“Konnor Riples and Jase Steele, I hereby relinquish my duty towards your fathers. From tomorrow’s sun onwards, you two shall fight under Moggray Tonn’s banner.”


Background notes

Tomorrow’s sun: Formal term for the next day, i.e. the sun symbolizing dawn.


Saturday, 28 September 2013

This is how you spell ASS-U-ME

Note: After some consideration, I decided not to do any analysis on Zhou Yu's advice pertaining to Cao Cao's imminent invasion. You see, there's such a thing called history being written by man (unless someone wants to wander into that unwanted territory called the Bible). In short, there are conflicting accounts where Account of Lu Su is concerned (read: Lu Su's version actually stated Zhou Yu was holding fort at Panyang, hence the one proposing outright resistance was no other than Lu Su himself). Because Sun Quan can be absurdly biased at times (which ultimately heralded the start of Sun Wu faction's decline plus Lu Xun's unfortunate death), not even Lu Su was spared due to unwanted complications arising from the whole Sun-Liu alliance (yes, Lu Su was the one suggesting the deal ffs). Therefore, I'm of the opinion that it was Lu Su proposing the fightback, NOT Zhou Yu.

A/N: After going through whatever said by Word of Yu, it seems to me that Sun Quan was out to give Zhou Yu extra credit via a major rehash of my last post.

Gonna talk footie again here, let's just have a brief glimpse on what happened so far. Basically, Cao Cao managed to annex Jing Province and the next target in line was Sun Wu. Without getting into messy specifics tantamount to retarded intellectual infighting, let's just say that everyone in Eastern Wu started twerking the panic button.

So what really went right for Cao Cao? Mainly the fact that he seized control of Jing Province.

So what went wrong for Cao Cao? Plenty. Firstly, he had yet to secure the loyalty of the locals. Secondly, he failed to figure in climatic factors amounting to 50% of his forces incapacitated. Thirdly, let us go back to point 1. In short, limited loyalty=limited manpower available. This is especially glaring since Cao Cao still had to deal with potential uprisings in his backyard. And to think Mario "Ba-lol-telli" Balotelli managed to torch his bathroom accidentally.

Lessons learnt in football
Whenever some gaffer comes into the dressing room, we need to know that tactics will only work once the players feel comfortable with what the new authority in trying to sell. It's just like how a child trusts his father. Cao Cao's biggest failure was down to assuming everybody in Jing Province will automatically see him as the rightful one. Sure, he's one of the three Special Ones, but not the Correct One to the Jing locals.

Most important lesson learnt here is this-If you're new, it means you're new. Players don't care whether you're King Midas the Italian or King Midas the Scot. So long as they believe you'll turn them into gold as well, then that's it. GG, kthnxbai...

So what should a new gaffer do during his first day at work? Firstly, Cao Cao never reassured the Jing people in the long term, let every gaffer learn from this cock-up (and to rub on the wound, it's not as if no one advised Cao Cao to play populist. Jia Xu did say so ffs). Players desired results, yes. But players are also human beings, they're not prepared to fight a battle with someone they dislike bossing them around.

Moral of the story-If you want to be a disciplinarian, go full rage mode only after you're sure everybody knows what you're doing. There's a weird parallel between this logic and why Zhang Fei got brutally assassinated by his disgruntled men. Go figure, guys.

How burning the fleet can affect football
Interestingly, the only details we've seen on Zhou Yu's exploits during the Battle of Red Cliffs is the fact that he accepted another general, Huang Gai's proposal to set fire on a few empty boats. Whatever written by Luo Guanzhong was merely drama, Huang Gai basically offered a plan which Zhou Yu accepted. However, due to Gongjin being the commander back then, it could also be concurred that Zhou Yu had thought up this plan as well. Only catch is that Huang Gai voiced it out first. iirc this isn't the first time we've seen this in Three Kingdoms history. In Cao Cao's war against Ma Chao, Jia Xu pulled off a Huang Gai. During the Hanzhong campaign, Huang Quan played the same blinder.

Lessons learnt in football
The gaffer should be bossing the team, every player is part of the team. If so-and-so player mentioned a harebrained plan that might really work, please don't be a dick. Whether said plan will be executed, gaffer should have the final say. But please, the dressing room is no kitchen unless your gaffer happened to be Gordon *insert correct answer here*.

How to burn correctly...

Lessons learnt in football 1
Bar the fact that Koei's Romance of the Three Kingdoms is based on Luo Guanzhong's bullshitting, we need to understand one very basic thing in war. Firstly, do NOT assume you're gonna have the upper hand. Cao Cao expected Eastern Wu to be his bitch, Heaven above got other plans. In the initial skirmish, Zhou Yu obtained the upper hand (i.e. drawing first blood). Yet, that was down to Cao Cao's naval forces suffering from pestilence. Back during those days, you don't have penicillin available (figure of speech ftw, I think I now sound like somebody in blue). In short, the Jing navy were in unfamiliar territory, unfamiliar territory breeds unfamiliar troubles. Basically, that means they're not used to the climate.

So what has this got to do with footie? Very simple. If you have the upper hand in quality, be very sure that shit do happen, plan in advance.
Example-Dean "The White Tower" Whitehead is now a staple force in terms of reinforcing our backline. If shit happens, it means he will be out for like... wtf, half a season? Maybe, maybe not. Championship football can be a bitch at times, that's why we get to see Swansea going so high up before Brendan "Dodgers" Rodgers decided to abandon his white Dornish lads. So if Boro kenna this touch wood moment, who to fill in? Richard "wrong Michal Carrick" Smallwood? Can he handle the heat? Can he withstand 10 human battering rams? Can he work in tandem with Jonathan "Woody" Woodgate? No 33, here's your perfect role model...

Lessons learnt in football 2
In naval standoff (or just about any other type involving Weapons of Mass Disruption), key to victory or defeat will always hinge on defence. You can score 3 goals in a row, but if you leak 4 in return, you still lugi. Basic $$$ maths will always teach you the difference between profit and loss, I actually still remember this from my primary school days (albeit I also remember a lot of shit which the relevant parties will always forget within weeks. Mr Tay Tai Ming, please do NOT try to recall whatever you told me about Shebby Singh).

Defence is never about how capable your backline is. It's about how you organise and rally. In short, who should be this bloke? Who should be the field backup? Who should be Fangorn himself?

Lessons learnt in football 3
Many people enjoy castigating this fella being slow like a turtle (unless said fella is a Carrington Welsh) or that fella not having the balls to be selfish (unless we're talking about CR7 since he'll never be generous). However, crucial factor is not down to how fast you are or whether your surname is Japanese. It's down to two things, two lagi simple basic things.

Basics 1-Where to fortify?
Defensive players will find this easy, but what about offensive players? You can try asking Joey "that Anglo-French guy" Barton on where to fortify, he'll give you an answer amounting to something like this. Try asking Neymar the same question and he will ask back in non-English format. In short, it should go something like this:
Defensive players should have a decent sense of positioning. Unless you're Jonathan "Woody" Woodgate, it means you're likely to be srsly ****ed once you become the last man tackling.
Attacking players, this is about where you should be positioning yourself. Unless you're Lionel "Hey! Do you have these?" Messi, it means you're likely to be srsly ****ed once you don't know your final destination. In short, I'm talking about how/where you should link up from the defence/middle.

Basics 2-When to gun?
Attacking players will find this easy, but not so the defensive ones. You can try asking that Portuguese Cruise Rocket 7 on where to gun, he'll give you the correct answer. Try asking Sami "die WTF?!" Khedira on where to gun and he will tell you how Rafael Nadal learn from him. In short, it goes something like this:
Defensive players, you shouldn't be running about unless you're a German, Italian, British, black, or some Slavmobile. Either you know when to pull the trigger (e.g. Grant "Lead Biter" Leadbitter) or when to call a pass (e.g. Dean "The White Tower" Whitehead). This is all about linking up ball possession ffs.
Attacking players, I don't need to say anything here. If you have a gun without ammo, it means either you got shortchanged constantly or you're just flat out stupid.

Starting and creating momentum
Opponent is playing a flat 4/5 across the middle, what to do? In actual history, the great fire merely created much needed turmoil. In short, all you need to do is this:
Try asking yourself how you will like to disrupt the opponent.

This is NOT about who you field in the team, it's about whether you want to draw first blood or bidding your time in the middle park. If you choose the former, make sure you have someone fast enough upfront with another someone good enough with the ball behind. If you choose the latter option, make sure your middle someone is intelligent enough to make a vital call. Vital call as in either we're talking about swinging a mace (i.e. disrupting opponent's tempo) or having a Bladesinger (i.e. creating link up chances). Note that this is NOT merely about positioning, but also when/where you should run.

Moral of the story:
Different approach will decide different ways of scoring. In short, goals win you games, not dummy talk.

P.S: To be continued, going to tidoh asap since got church tomorrow. Plus still need to do my Bible Study Fellowship homework. With that being said, allow me to (re)choreograph the Battle of Porto.

Tuesday, 24 September 2013

Since Mr Fong is clamouring for footballing tips...

But before that, it seems that someone hacked into my Fb account. My GoT app boss fight still got 15+ hrs to go during morning, boss fight suddenly ended. Either this is some half arsed hacker who can only do one quarter shit right or this is a sign that my life will change in the next two months or so. Bah, whatever... worst come to worst, I'll die without $$$ and gf.





[During the fifth years of Jian'an, Ce died. (Sun) Quan assumed leadership and Yu led his troops for mourning. Hence after, he remained at Wu and presided over every decision as the Central Protector of the Army together with Zhang Zhao, the Grand Secretary.

{Accounts of Jiangbiao: Duke Cao had just defeated Yuan Shao and his might was growing daily. During the seventh year of Jian'an, he sent a writ rebuking Quan and demanding his son as hostage. Quan sought his vassals' counsel,yet the likes of Zhang Zhao and Qin Song remained indecisive. Quan then chose to seek his mother and Yu's advice.

Yu said: "When the state of Chu was first established by the side of Mount Jing, the area was merely few hundred li. Yet, by gathering worthy talents, its borders soon expanded swiftly, its prosperity lasting nine centuries and more. You, Milord, have inherited your father and brother's fruits of success, the people of six counties, plenty of grain, and soldiers willing to die. Our region is rich, the mountains giving us much ore and the sea giving us plenty of salt. Why then, should you accede to the enemy's threat given your unrivalled might? If you give in, you'll only be the Cao clan's second. By then, you will not be your own master, others can decide whether you live or die. At most, you will merely gain a marquis' seal, a score or so of servants with a few steeds and carriages. Is this really better than your current life where you're still the lord of the south? Let us not act, but observe first. If the Cao clan is able to set right every wrong under a righteous banner, it won't be too late for Milord to pledge your allegiance. If he's out to cause trouble, he must know that fighting a war is akin to fighting a fire. He will not dare to play with fire. Via bravery, you, Milord will await the mandate of Heaven. Why, then, must you send your son as hostage?"

Quan's mother agreed, adding thus: "What Gongjin said makes sense. He is of Bofu's age, but only younger by a month. I viewed him as my own son, you must respect him like how you respected your brothers."

Hence, Sun Quan decided to reject Cao Cao's demand}]

Is this about football? Sorry, Tobias. I'm not gonna say anything on Bournemouth b/c I've witnessed first hand on what had happened to every previous opponent Boro has played so far this season. I did analyse our opponents so far this season and all shit broke loose. Wigan was the only team getting 3 points last weekend and it would have been a miracle if not for Ipswich at the receiving end.

So let me talk about my beloved Boro instead.

Historical point 1-Cao Cao threatened to hold Sun Quan at ransom.
My point 1-So far, we got held to ransom by unfavourable results. 1 win so far will never cut the cake for me. Sun Wu, at that time, was in some major upheaval. Can you imagine Apocalypse announcing his grand entrance without Cable standing firm? If Sun Quan is Cable and Cable is Mogga, then current season form will be every SSB's Apocalypse. Sun Quan had never wanted to be hijacked, I know Mogga will never want himself hijacked. It's that simple.

Historical point 2-Sun Quan asked everyone what to do, either everyone true bodoh or (worse still) buat bodoh.
My point 2-I'm not gonna liken any of Mogga's backroom staff with Zhang Zhao, Qin Song, etc. Have you ever tried employing some économiste to coach Man Utd? Utter bollocks and I'm sure David Moyes would rather do a noble sacrifice ala Nightcrawler vs Bastion. What I'm trying to say is this: If you got your team into a sticky season form, who should be your number 1 help? Sun Quan's greatest ally is NOT Zhang Zhao or Zhou Yu, but rather himself. He knew what he must do, it's only down to a lack in self-confidence doing him in. If you're in Mogga's shoes, would you say "**** it, I'm gonna solve this shit even if it costs me a limb and more"? Try Google search for Bill Shankly's famous quotes, I'm sure there's a certain one making my words count.

Historical point 3-Because Zhou Gongjin says so.
My point 3-Firstly, your team got itself into a sticky patch, people are wondering whether you will be King Hughton II. Secondly, you know what should be done, but you're still trying find solutions to make everything count...

["When the state of Chu was first established by the side of Mount Jing, the area was merely few hundred li. Yet, by gathering worthy talents, its borders soon expanded swiftly, its prosperity lasting nine centuries and more.]
Above statement highlights the importance of having a sound transfer policy. You have only this much of a budget, you ended up signing players like George "BFF" Friend, Mustapha "Muzzy" Carayol, Kei "that black Yank" Kamara, and Jacob "will hype butter him up?" Butterfield. Muzzy costed us next to nothing, Kamara seems like some daylight diamond heist atm. Verdict's still out on Butterfield (due to Josh "Ao no Takumi" McEachran) while Albert "or-beh" Adomah deserves a fine mention.

Am I hyping up all our attacking players?

Am I all for black footballers being better and white chicks being hotter?

Hey, people! I'm yellow, not black or white, okay?

[You, Milord, have inherited your father and brother's fruits of success, the people of six counties, plenty of grain, and soldiers willing to die.]
Well, I know this comparison will seem totally balmy, but hey! I never said this is literal!

[Our region is rich, the mountains giving us much ore and the sea giving us plenty of salt. Why then, should you accede to the enemy's threat given your unrivalled might? If you give in, you'll only be the Cao clan's second. By then, you will not be your own master, others can decide whether you live or die. At most, you will merely gain a marquis' seal, a score or so of servants with a few steeds and carriages. Is this really better than your current life where you're still the lord of the south?]
Okay, I know ppl are still saying Middlesbrough is the shittiest place in UK to live in, that the entire club is the shittiest in whole of North East. But do I care? If you want see everything in literal terms, it's not my problem. Want to anti-fan-wank, go fanwank over the correct Utd team instead.

The key point here is pride. Now let's see how many SSB will start spamming #spiritofteesside on Twitter.

[Why then, should you accede to the enemy's threat given your unrivalled might?]
What is the Boro made of? When we invoked the term Typical Boro, it's NOT about lack in quality. What makes us Typical Boro? What should be the REAL Typical Boro?

[If you give in, you'll only be the Cao clan's second. By then, you will not be your own master, others can decide whether you live or die.]
Should this be our lot? To be mocked by SGB, SMB, and all them ****ing dirty Leeds? It's one thing to play inferior and quite another to show ourselves as inferior. A match only lasts for 90 minutes, our pride should worth a million times more.

[At most, you will merely gain a marquis' seal, a score or so of servants with a few steeds and carriages.]
It's a tough league, but should we say "hey, let's wait for seven more years lol!" or must we take seriously the fact that football is our only light?

[Our region is rich, the mountains giving us much ore and the sea giving us plenty of salt.]
I'm taking the first line again b/c I've accounted for the rest basically. Ignoring sneering retards over that "R" word, allow me to do an interesting analogy on mountains and sea.

Firstly, what is Teesside famous for? Steel, that's our local produce. It can't be eaten, but it can be used in other ways. Secondly, Mogga's a local lad. Sounds generic? Wanna laugh? Sorry, you all failed geography.
Back to mountain ore and sea salt. Interestingly enough, the geography layout on Jiangdong was all about having mountains stretching across the mainland border with the Yangtze River being the only way in. This is also why when Cao Cao wanted to go further south, everyone in Jiangdong pressed the panic button (will touch on this in later parts).

As for the sea, it's actually just next to Jiangdong. Know how to spell C-O-A-S-T-A-L? Good, you all pandai.

If we're to relate ore and salt with our current team (since linking this with our fans will be total folly atm), then what kind of players should be our ore, who should be our salt? Ore is a raw resource for making weapons and armour, salt is used to preserve food. Back during our super-great-grand-ancestors' time, only Bill and Ted are qualified to bring stuff like smartphones, tablets, and guns. Soldiers needed arms and armour to fight, every person needs food to survive. Without salt, there would be no means to preserve food, sustaining any and every person would be impossible.

To me, Boro's ore lies only in one area: Attack. Bournemouth was a roller-coaster ride, but if there's anything we did correctly, said thing would be our ore.

However, we also need the "salt" players equally. They belong to our backline. If I am to liken 90 minutes to a battle fought, then what truly sustains us will be our defence.

Eddie Howe had brutally exposed our weakness, I'm talking about how our backline react to continual pressure.

Not in terms of applying zonal pressure, but rather pressure at break neck speed. Championship football is extremely competitive, this kind of attack is what led us to concede what Mogga referred to as "Championship goals". So is there any remedy to the whole thing?

Let me have a hand at problem solving...
...or fail miserably while trying. Firstly, remember the Word of Yu:
[Is this really better than your current life where you're still the lord of the south?]

Number 1-Can it get any worse? I can't answer this question for every fellow SSB, but my own answer will be no, it won't get any worse. Why? Because we only have one thing to lose-top flight football.
What will we gain by promotion? Only one:

Number 2-If we're to think out of the box, should the fans be the team's salt or ore? I'm not encouraging blokes, ladies, and kids to waste their precious money, but rather what should the team give to every long suffering SSB? 3 points? Promotion? A fine footballing feast despite biting the dust 3 goals to 4?

Number 3-Let there be both steel and salt. I'm talking about trust in Mogga, a duty which only Mogga must be held accountable to. They tend to say midfield is every team's engine, the heart and brains of all things 90 minutes. Therefore, my question to Mogga is this: How are you going to allocate the salt and steel accordingly? How will you define your own salt and steel?

[Let us not act, but observe first. If the Cao clan is able to set right every wrong under a righteous banner, it won't be too late for Milord to pledge your allegiance. If he's out to cause trouble, he must know that fighting a war is akin to fighting a fire. He will not dare to play with fire. Via bravery, you, Milord will await the mandate of Heaven. Why, then, must you send your son as hostage?"]

Number 4-Let's not give up the ghost, shall we? Mr Eric Soh, you're right last Sunday when saying that it will be hard for us to get promoted, you're also right many years ago that the season is a marathon, not a sprint. If there's any reason behind Liu Bang's imminent victory over Xiang Yu, it's not down to how many you've won, but how MUCH you've won. Meanwhile, it's every player, backroom staff, and Mogga's duty to keep an open eye out for noteworthy things. For the season is dark and full of terrors.

P.S: Wait, why this seem so self-familiar huh? Why ah?

It all started with Bournemouth and an office joke.

Dun like to waste any breath for now, so here's what I mean by office joke. Yeo Ho-nam, White Lotus temple sure got meh?
Yes, the North remembers. So any possibility of Ygritte cosplay? :P

Every historian in all things Chinese history will tell you that China has 24 official historical texts with the rest considered either of secondary importance (e.g. Chronicles of Hua Yang by Chang Qu) or additional reference (e.g. Zi Zhi Tong Jian by Sima Guang). Note that while Pei Songzhi's annotations should be counted as such, said inclusion actually involves cross referencing and intellectual debate, i.e. this counted as canon.

So what's so special about GCZ (i.e. Great Commander Zhou)? Firstly, this is a much maligned character in reality. I can understand why Cao Cao got PC smeared (well, he's responsible for the Xu Province massacre after all, let alone how Xun Yu became that blood spewing Merlion at Shouchun). But what crime did Zhou Yu commit to warrant an unwanted smear warrant?

To understand how human stupidity works, we must understand that whatever Luo Guanzhong wrote was pure bullshitting. Granted Romance of the Three Kingdoms is considered one of the Four Great Chinese Classics, but we're talking about fiction vs history, idealism vs realism.

Do you think Guan Yu is a righteous son of a gun? Well, he's some son of a gun, but he's anything but righteous.

Do you think Liu Bei is some poor benevolent bastard? Well, he's a bastard alright, but a conniving one.

Do you think Zhao Yun and Zhuge Liang are upright characters? Erm, actually the answer is yes, might as well call one Jon Arryn and the other Eddard Stark.

We must understand that everything in this world starts with supply=demand. The Chinese are quite well versed in $$$ sense, there has always been a massive demand for romanticism. Quite a bit like $$$ grubbing Jews, but idealism wise, we're actually much closer to the Western civilisation, e.g. Arthurian legends and Old Irish mythology. Back during Luo Guanzhong's time, everything was under the Yuan dynasty rule. In Chinese history, there are two specific eras where the big brother upstairs is anything but Chinese. The last imperial age called Qing dynasty (ruled by Manchurians) and the Yuan dynasty (ruled by Mongolians).

Me: Mooncake festival is something started by the rebels in a bid to overthrow the Yuan government lah!

Yeo Ho-nam: You PRC, of course you know one lah!

Me: Eh uncle Yeo, I'm Singaporean lah!

Yeo Ho-nam: Ya lah! I know you everything also know one!

Me: ......

Take note that while this seems like a skit, said event is really true (although I can only remember the overall picture since it's like N months ago). While I'm somewhat incapable of being subtle, the key point is Yuan dynasty. You see, the people were under foreign ownership back then, it's only natural for them to wank on past glory. In short, romanticism on all things loyalty and positive merit became the vogue, no one gave a shit on how someone like Ned can easily roll his head on the ground. To be fair, we cannot judge them and call them stupid. Not because whether PRC or no PRC, but an absolute sense of helplessness caused by prior invasion years ago. In fact, East Asians DO have their bitter history of getting invaded left, right, and centre (although Japan's situation is a bit 50-50 due to military incursions not only into China, but the unified Korea before nation kenna chee).

In short, every race must have some heroes, the Shu Han faction became the tragic blokes (since only God can do this). Wei faction became the primary villain due to Cao Cao's political decision involving the waning Han royalty, Zhou Yu became the primary antagonist in order to make Zhuge Liang sibeh imba.

WTF? That's all? So that means we all kenna bluff by PRC liao lah!
At the risk of sounding anti-PC, my answer is yes. Every person's hero is another's butcher, every man's foe the other party's idol. If you care to understand to how human civilisation works, you'll definitely agree with me. Perhaps Prof Yi Zhongtian sums this up the best:

If the enemy uses trickery to obtain victory, it's called treachery. If the hero uses the same method, it's called being intelligent. In actuality, both are the same.

Thus we must understand the dangers of judging another person. Enough of pseudo-preaching, let's get back on track. Have you ever imagined yourself calling another guy that enviable son of a bitch? Such reaction will surely mean outright jealousy. To quote some explicit examples, maybe just see things this way:


So what makes Zhou Yu that most enviable S.O.B?


[Yu was blessed with good looks.]
《Record of the Three Kingdoms: Account of Zhou Yu》

Fiction-Zhou Yu was born a handsome guy.
Fact-Same as fiction, everything has undergone popular evolution.


[Jian's son Ce was of Yu's age, both being close as brothers. Yu allowed Ce to live in his residence at Daonan while paying respect to his (Yu's) mother, no differences were seen between the two.]
《Record of the Three Kingdoms: Account of Zhou Yu》

Fiction-Just like the Shu Han 3 amigos, Zhou Yu and Sun Ce are technically brothers.
Fact-We Chinese have this saying: It takes one hero to values another [英雄惜英雄]. The Japanese actually went one up better [断金の交].


[Hengjiang and Dangli were conquered with ease via Zhou Yu's military assistance. Hence after, Zhou Yu crossed the river to attack Moling, Ze Rong and Xue Li were routed as a result. Travelling downwards to Hushu and Jiangcheng immediately, Zhou Yu managed to enter Qu'e. Liu Yao escaped in defeat, (Sun) Ce's forces by then had amassed till scores of thousand.]
《Record of the Three Kingdoms: Account of Zhou Yu》

Fiction-Srsly buay chap-siao over whether Luo Guanzhong wrote anything srs on this.
Fact-Having a hand in taking down two major settlements=badass. Took down yet another important settlement while pwning a 2 by 1 handicap=lagi garang. Conquered two more territories=sibeh siao-on. Liu Yao pwned, Sun Ce now a military superpower=LMFAO!!!!!




[Ce welcomed Yu personally, making him the Central General Who Builds The Might. Yu was promptly given two thousand soldiers and fifty cavalry.

{Account of Jiangbiao: Ce also elevated Yu further in order to administer his household, whatever rewards given was more than any other officials. Ce announced thus: "Zhou Gongjin (Gongjin=Zhou Yu's style name) is indeed a perfect talent, he is always close to me like bone to flesh. At Danyang, he sent soldiers and supplies to reinforce our noble cause, whatever bestowed can never equal all he had accomplished for me."}

Yu at that time was twenty four, all in the lands of Wu called him "Youthful Zhou". Via revered repute in his hometown, Lujiang, Zhou Yu set off for Niuzhu, after which he assumed the Chief of Chungu. In order to seize the Jing Province, Sun Ce made Yu Central Protector of the Army while assuming the Governor post for Jiangxia. By assisting Sun Ce, the area of Huan was conquered without difficulty.]
《Record of the Three Kingdoms: Account of Zhou Yu》

Fiction-Same as previous answer.
Fact-People, let us eat our hearts out. Figuratively ofc.



[At that time, Master Qiao married off his two daughters, both of them beauties without peer. Ce chose Da Qiao with Yu marrying Xiao Qiao.

{Account of Jiangbiao: Joking casually with Yu, Ce said: "Master Qiao's two daughters might have forced into exile due to war, yet he's truly blessed to have us as his sons-in-law."}]
《Record of the Three Kingdoms: Account of Zhou Yu》

Fiction-Luo Guanzhong=I buat bodoh
Fact-Eh, musibot Ce! Why u troll every perfectly functioning man?


[After advancing to Xunyang and vanquishing Liu Xun, Zhou Yu managed to pacify Jiangxia and Luling. Afterwards, he held fort at Baqiu.]
《Record of the Three Kingdoms: Account of Zhou Yu》

Fiction-Luo Guanzhong would rather die than to write down the truth.
Fact-What I've said above serves to reinforce that-which-is-no-contest: Why would Zhou Yu be jealous of others? More likely others were jealous of him.

To be cont'd... (b/c need to kun liao, I need help to curb my potential OCD from 18th Oct to 25th Oct. WHY I CAN'T GO SEOUL WITH LAOBU AND SISTER????? B/C I BOLUI MEH????? I KNO I BLESSED W/POKKAI FACE, WANT TO RELAX A BIT ALSO TAK BOLEH, HAPPY!!!!????)

Sunday, 22 September 2013

Lore: High Realm of Teutonia (Part 8)

Cont'd from Part 7...

The Seelie will always rank their own by seniority, for everyone is an Earl without specific boundaries in power. However, they tend to have major leverage on trade and diplomacy. Trade because the Seelie are better in business dealing, diplomacy because of their learning with words. At the same time, they are able to recommend any individual for the Grand Administrator post.

Grand Administrators
This is a post in charge of overseeing municipal affairs on daily basis. If the Baron is tasked with protecting his fief, then the Grand Administrator has to look after his people. By appointing prefects to assist him, an eye for capable people is imperative. Depending on the fief's size, the Grand Administrator can choose any number of prefects.

Like their Seelie counterpart, the Unseelie also place importance on seniority. Yet, they are more accomodating towards younger members so long as they have exceptional talent in decision making. In terms of recommendation, the Unseelie are able to make decisions on which individual should be made a General or even War Commandant.

A General is an unique title in the sense that there can be no two Generals of identical naming. Indeed the nature of a General's title will suggest the type of military power involved. At the same time, any General title can be conferred to any exceptional military man. Hence, this is the only way for commoners to stake any claim on noble status. Generals are considered knights, no matter what.

War Commandant
The War Commandant is only appointed during times of war, only the Unseelie reserve the unfettered right to appoint whoever chosen. As the War Commandant, the appointee will have total power of command in terms of deployment and delegation. At the same time, this is a post having the undisputed say in deciding the number of any troops allocated. However, this post will cease with immediate effect once the conflict ended. This is why no War Commandant should be addressed Ser, i.e. prefix title for every knight.

Marquis Warden
This is arguably the highest post of military power even though a Marquis Warden can only command the forces in the name of defence. This is down to a combination of repelling external invasions and quelling any inner unrest raised by treacherous Barons should word escape the Schattengarde (which is something yet to happen). Unlike the War Commandant, Marquis Warden is a permanent title passed down from father to son bar exceptional circumstances. Total command in terms of man deployment is the key, the Marquis Warden must also assume responsibility of sending supplies and reinforcement during war.

A/N: Currently, the incumbent Marquis Warden is Ser Jon Wood the Young.

Note: The Marquis Warden is NOT considered part of Unseelie.


Boliao note: Have this funny paranoia that Running Man is the reason why my sis and laobu want to go Seoul. 18-25th Oct 2013=me go thru this

Lore: High Realm of Teutonia (Part 7)

Cont'd from Part 6...


Der Langriess... a people filled with ancient heritage nobody knows of. It's been whispered that when the Causaceans first settled in the Greater North, der Langriess were already there. Held in awe and admiration, these are a people fair and strong, yet looking just like every Human. Although their pride perished in the subsequent conflict, the Teutonians argue that it was down to their other two Causacean brothers, the Kalarans and Slarveans. Claiming to be der Langriess' saviours, the Teutonians nevertheless dare not rile up this broken race. Ages passed by and no one could ever call himself a pure der Langriess. However, it seems that there will always be bastards held in highest esteem...

The Green Branch

In terms of light cavalry, the Reivers are feared rightfully for their lightning quick raids and armour piercing crossbows. At the same time, those living in uncharted forests are required to take up arms. These are the woodsmen armed with axes, otherwise known as the Tragen. Despising usage of artillery, no Teutonian noble will ever desire a rangesman's path. Yet, the Aegil Orden choose to rebel against this norm, these are bands of hunter-warriors providing vital tactical support within forest terrain. Last but mayhap the most fearsome of them all are the enigmatic Fianna. Only closest allies and enemies already dead have seen them face to face, it is rumoured that only the High Lord can request for an audience without prior notice.
Also it's noteworthy to say that every man and woman relevant is obligated to serve the Green Branch, something confounding even the Old Ways' finest scholars.

Hailing from the endless swathes of Middle Plains, the Reivers are a proud and warlike people. Many a time, folks would question whether the Pferdin are descendants of their hated northern foe, the Slarveans. Yet, there is no question on where the Pferdin's loyalty lies.

Arms and armour
With brigandine and open faced conical helm made from steel, the Reivers favour speed and mobility over protection. Every Reiver must have three weapons prepared: lance, crossbow, dirk. While it is noteworthy that apart from the knights, only Reivers are allowed to use a lance, a Reiver lance is made differently from a knight's lance. Lances used by knights tend to be heavier with the handguard being more prominent. Reviers on the other hand prefer their lances to resemble the shape of a long spear. However, death follows folly should one see it as just a spear. The tip is sharp, yet its form is that of a spike. Simply put, the thrusting impact will still be greater due to a wider base diametre. The dirk is perhaps the most interesting out of the three. Whilst 'tis true that a dirk must be the least requirement, there are also those with major repute wielding long swords instead.

Steeds ridden by the Reivers are extremely prized by nobles and the High Lord alike. Indeed 'tis oft said that a Reiver's foal can outrun the finest stallion. Whether it is true or sheer exaggeration remains a question, yet only a fool will question this. As a people used to nomadic lifestyle, the Pferdin always boast greatly about their riding skills, claiming that every rider is born from the mother's womb.

Thriving on flat terrain and gullies, the Reivers will never fight a war of attrition. Before initiating a charge, the first line of riders must prepare their crossbows beforehand. Riding just behind are those preparing to skewer the enemy, a loose formation adopted due to tactical want. In order to maximise this tactic's potential, the first wave must form a compact line with the latter wave close behind. Once the first volley is released, the foremost riders will split their numbers in half in order to facilitate the follow up charge. This is for frontal charging. However, Reivers are known to split their numbers efficiently, so that the enemy can be easily charged from the rear or flank.

Teutonia is a realm filled with diverse terrain. From fertile plains protected by the Inner Circle to dense forest and rocky high ground forming much of its borders, it is no wonder to see this proud kingdom retaining a fortress' bragging rights. If Reivers are warriors of the plains, then the Tragen are surely infantry of the woods. Rumoured to be the ones most akin to der Langriess, the Tragen had ended more than their fair share of unwitting fools through axe and ambush.

Arms and armour
Wearing only simple hunting garb and leather jerkin as protection, a Tragen is still nonetheless more than a knight's match. What is truly fearsome about this people is their axe mastery. There are two types of axes used, every Tragen must be a master of both. The first is a typical woodsman axe, simple in make, deadly in force. The second is the lighter variety, a throwing axe. No matter what, a Tragen's axe is the sharpest axe. Reasons behind such supreme craftsmanship remains undivulged, for this is the Tragen's only art.

Never one to ride steeds in battle, the Tragen are masters of ambush tactics. Navigating through forests is like walking on flat ground, they can stay unmoving for hours or even couple of days. Their ambush will always be swift and brutal, their keenest arms cleaving through steel, flesh, and bones.

The Aegil Orden
If the Tragen are known to be bears of Teutonia, then the Aegil Orden must surely be the hawks and eagles. Living in harmony with their hulking cousins, the Orden (as they're commonly called) are not considered as merely descendants of der Langriess. Rather, they also accept others having nowhere to go.

Arms and armour
Dressed in forest green and wearing wooden mask, those of the Aegil Orden can only count upon their famed longbow as the only mean. Unlike the militia rangesmen, the Orden will only arm themselves with the finest. Experts in bow crafting, a member's longbow is technically a flat bow made from yew. Their only armour available is a leather suit dyed green.

Relying on sniping and baiting alone is not enough for an ordinary bowman, but the Orden are anything but that. Living in the wilds with only bow and arrows for arms, these hunters have refined another aspect of war: setting traps. Be it baiting enemy forces to unwitting death or lethal sniping, not even the nobility dare to deride them. At least not in the open where every tree has its ears.

The Fianna
Everything about the Fianna is a shrouding mist of obscurity. However, they are known to reverse the tide of battles whenever called upon. Their numbers may seem to be the least out of the Green Branch, but it's also rumoured that for every one Fianna killed, five enemies will serve as company.

Arms and armour
Dressed in green and grey, whatever sightings seem to suggest their armour is made of chainmail, brigandine, or scale mail. Even then, such gear only covers the upper body with either short sleeves or sleeveless. With their heads hooded during conflict, lack of clarity only serves to heighten every opponent's fear. As for weapons, word has it that not only do they wield hunting bows and spears, but also swords despite none of them proven as knights.

Nothing is known about their steeds or how they are reared. One thing for sure though is this: Steeds belonging to the Fianna are not considered normal. This is because the Fianna are capable of navigating the most difficult terrain by horse. Or so 'tis what every folk says.

No one has ever seen the Fianna in war, but military commanders believe their tactics to be some form of enemy disruption rather than annihilation. Indeed it is always said that "the more men you have, the more men will die".

To be cont'd...