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, 3 February 2014

Blood and Honour, Lions Against Men

A/N: Before I kickstart this new chapter after such a short period gap, allow the troll to wish everybody a Happy Chinese New Year. Don't worry, I won't emulate Amos Yee b/c it takes a daring (?) S'porean to understand other better (?) S'poreans.
Notable fatalities: King Lear, Hamlet, MacBeth, the list goes (?) on.
Moral Crusaders vs Moral Terrorist(s), who shall come out victorious?


"What separates man from beast? Is it how we look in the mirror or something of opposing nature privy only to self?"
~Erik, Lord of Berserkers


A Ranger's Tale


The skies were of clearest blue with nary a cloud, the seagulls’ call being every seafarer’s constant companion. Mayhap only the navigator keeping count of days passed by, this was merely a voyage for many, yet an endless journey for the rest.

“Have you seen Joyce?” queried a worried Southgate Garatt, paternal instincts kicking him in the gut once again.

“No,” shrugged the navigator, “We’re in dead middle of the Endless Straits, so rest assured that we won’t see that frisky lass swimming naked.”

“I beg your pardon?” snarled the stocky brunette, a strong hand shaking his intended target like a worthless cur, “Kymm Lios, you better shut your mouth before I do it for you!”

“Try employing another navigator afterwards then,” grinned the roguish lad, his tattooed torso bared, “You don’t hire living beings from inside the Endless Straits.”

“Try me.”

“I’d rather try that girl…”


“Kymm is referring to weasel lass, not frisky lass,” quipped a bleary eyed Lara, a slender hand covering her yawning mouth, “Don’t make so much noise early in the morning!”

“Early? It’s already noon by my own guess,” retorted Southgate.

“You’re two hours off, Stonegate!” beamed an annoying Bigan in triumph, “I’ve finally invented something capable of telling time via a shadow cast!”

“Dumbest motherfucker. The School of Structuring already did that,” muttered a derisive Kymm.

“I heard that, virgin,” grinned the Goblin, his smiling mug insinuating something about to happen, “I managed to insert a workstone after assembling the necessary structure. Sorry for killing your bird by accident. Parts do fly away due to unintentional accidents. Tasted like chicken though.”

“What? You ate Budgie? Come back here, you son of a green bitch!”

“Dumbest motherfucker,” growled Southgate, “Whatever ‘necessary structure’ means anyway.”


“More! I want more!”

Well, his look is a real bummer. What’s wrong with asking?

“More of what?”

“More of your stories!”

Wow, I’m so clever to tell him what I want. Dad was right in encouraging me to ask for anything.

“Fuck the stories! I only cook up shit for fun.”

Huh? Wait a holy sec, I need to get this clear.

“Erm… good sir, what is fuck and shit?”

“Shit is something everyone does since birth. As for fuck… well, you’ll grow up to be a man sooner rather than later.”

Well, I guess that’s a good enough answer.


Guy woke up in an instant, his sapphire orbs greeting the skies beyond and his paramour inside. He did not understand why Joyce’s existence is capable of getting Southgate hot under the collar, but surely trouble was his second name by birth. At least I’ll die a happy man once getting caught with my pants down, mused the self-deprecating blond.

You’re pretty good for an unschooled cub, do you not know that?

Damning memories skewering his soul, this was a certain seductress cutting his heart apart. If not for her, he wouldn’t be here. If not for her, he wouldn’t have little to no qualms in shagging any lass outside his beloved Alestrial. Yet, who was the one starting the proverbial fire? It wasn’t the Grand Damsel, but that man.

That man in his dream…

Any sombre thoughts entertained moments ago collapsed under the weight of his fiery loins, the culprit none other than a dainty hand brushed across his crotch. Blushing furiously despite the apparent, Guy Cody wished he could jump into the sea right now.

If only sharks ain’t real…

“Joyce! I know you’re in there with that boy!” frantic pounding shocking his senses like a winter spring, the young lion knew he’s officially screwed, “Come out this fucking moment, you get me?!”

Attempts in getting dressed verily futile, the sandy blond realised it’d take some time for his erected member to stay down. Then it happened all too fast, the door to Joyce’s room broken down.

“Oh hi,” grinned a sheepish Guy Cody, a hand raised in response to Southgate’s bulging stare.

“Mmm, Guy… heh heh heh…” giggled a still sleeping Joyce, “You’re so strong and forceful.”

“Wait! I can explain this!”

If the young Kalaran thought he could slip away through a momentary miracle, Southgate Garatt was about to prove somebody wrong.



“So let me get this straight,” asked an impish Bigan, “You managed to…”

“Shut up, green jackass,” snapped Southgate.

“Don’t call me a green jackass!”

“Oh, and ‘tis acceptable for me to become Stonegate?”

“That’s ‘cuz you looked like a stone statue nine times out of ten!”

Jase and Konnor could only balk before a comical brawl unfolding before their gaping visage, Moggray Tonn chuckling akin to no tomorrow. If Guy had any reaction from an overzealous fight, he merely tried looking somewhere else. Only to discover an irate Joenne staring down at him. Swallowing his saliva nervously, Guy tried getting away to no avail. Getting yanked backwards forcefully, Guy Cody finally understood any rumours pertaining to Joenne Nances’ absurd strength was no laughing matter. Even though he suspected that was down to his current circumstances.

“Pervert!” screamed Joenne, her shrill voice piercing every listener’s ears, “I hate you! You know we all like you!”


“What’s that reaction, Konnor Riples?” retorted Joenne with a finger pointing at his direction menacingly, the young Home Guard of House Steele becoming her next potential target, “I know you because Ales always mentioned your name.”

“Lady Joenne,” coughed Jase in a civil manner, a curtsy accentuating a deliberate show of pomp, “May this lowly scion be so daring to ask who are the ones you’re referring to?”

“I… well, I mean everyone here likes our moronic friend,” clearing her throat, an embarrassed Joenne tried putting up her bravest front, “Right, moron?”

“Sorry, this moron here is not impressed,” frowned Guy, his arms folded together in non-amusement, “I’m also…”

“Answer me,” requested Jase Steele, his glare pointing barbs against Guy betraying a majestic air belonging only to a war commander most able, “Is it true that Lady Karen likes… this smallborne?”

Under ordinary circumstances and equally ordinary people, Jase’s demand would have invoked fear from every watcher. Unfortunately for him, ordinary folks would never get themselves into unarmed fights and armed battles within the same mention. Mayhap Lars was right in calling him both lion and a man. Then it took place all too suddenly, a massive boom resulting in a mast broken and killing a nearby sailor. Joenne could only stare with horror, a dead man’s skull split open like a grotesque melon casting a binding spell on a noble lady. She had seen nothing like this, was this truly what war is all about? Before she could even attempt an answer to a question numbing her mind, her throat got seared by fire and flaring pain. Then came darkness forevermore…


If Blind Bart was capable of sight, no one would have batted an eyelid over the fact that he’s able to sense actual things even from three miles away. Unfortunately, his youngest crew member got himself into trouble. Making huge strides impossible for a blind man, Bart grabbed the poor boy by his neck. If the rest had any questions waiting to be asked, they chose to keep quiet because a silent man is the wisest man.

“Brat!” snarled the wiry pirate, “Did I told ya’ to fire yar crossbow?”

“Baw… bawss…” stammered a frantic lad, his knees undermined by fear.

Nothing was uttered hence after bar a bloody fountain, gurgling sound hailed from an open throat akin to music to Blind Bart’s ears. Tossing a youth nearing death overboard, a swarm of sharks gleefully accepted their present bestowed. He needed not any instructions to give, every single word was explicitly stated beforehand. Wreck their ship, take their gold, fuck their bitches, and kill the rest. If anyone knew the secret behind Bart’s supernatural sight, that person was no longer deemed alive.


“Shit! How many men we’ve lost?” hollered Southgate as he hacked down yet another pirate.

“Don’t ask me, moron!” roared back Jase, his keen blade biting deeply into its latest kill, “Konnor… Konnor! Where are you?!”

“Come and get a dead man and your rightful due if you dare!”

Jase’s heart skipped a beat upon recognising the speaker and his tone. Surely Konnor…


“Eiyo bawss!” exclaimed a gleeful man old but strong, his fellows tossing a shrieking lass onto the deck “We gert par’cell!”

“Fark da par’cell,” grinned the leader, “Jus’ ‘member ter lemme ‘ave da last an’ finest sh’ot.”

Ignoring the victim’s heightening screams, Blind Bart signalled to his right hand man. Taking over the telescope from his superior, the middle aged sellsword nodded silently.

“Help me see if there’s anybody worthy to fight.”

“Aye, bawss,” taking a minute or two to complete his task, Bart’s second mate gave a salute even though Bart would never see this coming.

“Anyone?” continue whispering the pirate lord, his leer betraying a lust to maim and kill.

“Two boys, one dead and the other alive,” came an apathetic reply, “The one left standing seems to have slain at least three to four of our brothers with every damned survivor cowed. Guess they need either stick or cunt.”

“G’oad,” snickered the blind bandit, the customary pirate accent making its return, “Dismees’d.”


“...nawt?” Bart’s laughter sounded like a terrible spectre, a hand slapping his counterpart in a friendly manner, “Ah’ deares’ Neut, go ‘anjoy dat lil’ kow o’er ‘der. ‘Eef ‘er arss steel intact, ye bee ‘er first moite.”

Impassive visage giving way to a sadistic smile, Neut promptly stripped himself naked while barking harsh orders to his men. As for Blind Bart, he only had one intent.

Indeed I’ve seen one like me after so many years. Tell me, boy… what is your Truth?


“E… E… Ed?” stammered a nervous knave wielding a pair of knifes, “Ye go’s first?”

“Dun b’ fool’ reetard!” snapped Ed, “See wat sod did too sex o’owr fellas jus now?”

The battle remains raging still, time had frozen in place for Ed and his fellowmen. Here before them stood a lion amongst men, his stature akin to a towering king of beasts. Silence accompanied him, terror was their companion. In one hand gripped a golden spear, the other clenched into a fist. None could discern the dead man’s identity, everyone knew this was a fight unwinnable. In a blinking of an eye, Ed and his other two friends were brutally cut down. Only then did the lion revert back to man.

“Guy!” snarled Southgate, the sword Gemma bequeathed unto him decorated with blood and bits of entrails stuck on its surface, “You son of a bitch better do something about that smiling son of a scoundrel, get me?!”

An initial dumbfound expression soon gave way to a massive fury unrivalled, any semblance of composure ceding ground to burgeoning rage. Never before had he imagined this to happen even though fundamental logic decreed otherwise, surely the pirates’ living toy was already wasted. Keen sapphire orbs unable to tear themselves off a broken lass continually raped, woe be unto those incurring the wrath of a god. A god not of holiness, but one belonging to war and spear. Never dwelling at any paradise utmost high, but wearing a coat made from flesh and blood. How Guy wished for the courage to confront himself, for he truly dreaded the day where people ended asking him where is Joenne Nances. An innocent party killed, another now akin to the living dead.

“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.”

Was that an advice or mockery disguised as such? Never before had Guy tried answering simple questions wholly profound, let alone just one. Recalling being mocked an idiot devoid of worth, how he wished time would suddenly reverse its course and staying put. Futile regrets begetting futile lamentations, he knew what needs to be done.

“Let’s have a wager, cretin. I bet you’ll get laid less than two years after I and Elys get married, deal? Just don’t tell me that stupidest obvious, okay?”

Everything seemed to move in slow motion currently, the young lion of Teesside allowing instincts to supplant his humanity. With a roar shattering the heavens and dispersing flocks of seagulls, Guy Cody now only desired one single result.

Their boss…


Feeling a tremor shaking her heart, Karen Tenias paused to contemplate the reason. Being locked up like a prisoner in luxury was one thing, unease ravaging her inner self quite another. Attempting to seek an absolute solace nearby, she reached out for that one thing preserving her intact from that trauma. Ransacking whatever left of her belongings, the daughter of House Tenias prayed fervently to the Father for a positive outcome.

Only to see a damaged portrait torn nearly into half, a split sundering Joenne’s smiling face.

Why… O’Father above, please don’t let this be true. I beseech You to grant Guy Your strength, for chivalry is the mark of men blessed with a lion’s heart…


“Arr’, boy, yer fearful o’me?”

Bloodshed for now ceased upon Blind Bart’s behest, no one was idiotic enough not to understand his intent. Before his cooing taunt stood a young boy no older than the one he fed to the sharks, his majestic form invoking a guess creeping from heart unto lips.

“Lion versus a bat,” his sudden shift in accent taking every outsider aback.

But not this boy whose glare betrayed a lion hungry for vengeance.

“Oy!” hollered Bart, “Yer scrummy dawgs betta fark ‘er till ah’ ‘ear ‘er beggin’ fer ‘mer, geddit?”

“Oh shit, this doesn’t look good, Scargray,” commented Bigan, his default demeanor usurped by a grimace brimming with hate and distaste, “What about our guys stuck below? You gonna let them rot?”

A sharp rapping sound from his spear butt echoed throughout the high noon sky, Bigan’s ears stung badly at close proximity. Understanding Moggray’s message, Bigan flashed a hushing sign one like Jase would surely understand. Thankfully Brynn Steele’s only child learnt well thus far, at least a nodding head would ensure its owner whole.

“Come here, cur!” shouted Southgate Garrat, his anger displayed in fullest glory, “You raped, you murdered, you plundered. Your bounty is here, cur!”

Jase turned a shocked glance at Southgate’s direction, fear of reprisal seizing his heart with the tongue held to ransom. Before he could even attempt calming a hardened soldier rapidly breaking down, somebody else did the job for him. A hard fist to the gut was all Bigan needed to silence an emotional man from getting under his greenest hide.

“Oh my, someone is gonna get killed.”

Swift as a pouncing cat, Lara von Dirkwind appeared from nowhere, her abrupt assault cementing whatever assumed by Guy more than mere days ago. However, her target was none other than Bart, any ambiguity pertaining to her personal allegiance temporary put to bed.

Bart would have nothing of that though, a dagger flashing across the Half Elf’s neck. Only to end up slicing empty air and a mocking laugh.

Definitely a mistress of assassination arts, Lara’s actual target was positioned merely two feet away or so. In a world where sellswords and knaves ply their trade, only one law matters as the golden rule.

“Do anything, but don’t get yourself caught.”

With those parting words, Lara set about disemboweling revelers born with a member each. Brandishing her dirk like a playful tabby cat, Neut became her first kill. Irony behind death during anal penetration not lost unto the fiery redhead, an ice cool calm ensured her mission accomplished with nary a hassle.

Stunning flashes of silvery death beguiling every watcher, only three individuals stayed unfazed. Moggray Tonn, Blind Bart, and lastly…

Three men in the middle of rape, the first to die being he who raped Joyce from behind. Then the one forcing his way with her mouth and lastly that rapist ploughing her crotch. The first blow was done through a normal grip method, the following two twice as brutal with her dagger held in reverse grip. Two slashes from behind and one plunging downward, three slashes not gone to waste especially for her third man. Better don’t get myself castrated alive someday down the road.


“Eh, the omen sucks man,” drawled Conwer, his flippant attitude earning a slap from behind.

“Do not make a jape against the death’s decree, boy,” rang a raspy voice, a wizened Elf glaring back like a living embodiment of judgment true, “We are cursed and blessed at the same time to dance with mortality.”

Conwer tried devising a witty response, only to be silenced by an individual only slightly stronger built than him.

Huan de Weon, Meister Elder and fellow brethren in black, please allow Conwer to enjoy his moment. For war is nigh, our Elven arms soon to taste blood and life taken from others rather than our own.”

Huan de Weon had seen many battles won and lost, many a worthy man fought and died. Yet, this fellow Homm’Nua no more half a century older than Conwer was no less an enigma incapable of fear. He who commands awe from the Shadow Brotherhood, outright fear from the rest. A little wonder why Karen Tenias was fortunate enough to survive those foul Demons’ murderous lust.

Woe unto you, O’Homm’Eot. Kerstein de ever hungry, his sabre wrought of Elven steel forever starving.


O’Treachery, thou roarest in crimson and gold.
O’Ceres utmost fair, thy blood and chastity sheddest I shalt avenge.