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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, 24 February 2014

Both Lion and a Lancer

"A lion is guardian, its might and strength everlasting. Blessed is the one earning its loyalty by merit, woe unto those trying to subjugate its pride."
~Encyclopedia Bestiary





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A Ranger’s Tale

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“Ah… I’m so tired,” whined a tanned Cinha girl, her Causacean counterpart raising an eyebrow.

“But I thought you’re used to hard labour, Lol.”

“The name’s Lolyx, not Lol,” snapped the peevish lass, the irony behind such a reaction not lost unto her, “You got a good life comparatively, Ceres.”

“I was only in charge of the kitchen,” frowned the attractive brunette, her auburn locks ruffled.

“That’s because my family is piss poor and my old man couldn’t pay off his gambling debts,” Lolyx stuck out her tongue in reply.

“Lolyx?”

“Yes, what?”

“Do you believe everything is too good to be true?” Ceres continued whispering, her dark brown orbs focused on a flock of crows passing by.

“Yeah, I know why,” frowned a puzzled Lolyx, “I mean that Sarel whatever was willing to offer us this tavern despite neither me nor you asking for anything.”

“But it seems weirdly nostalgic,” smiled Ceres wistfully, “As if this will be our home.”

“Bah, only for you,” scoffed Lolyx, her eyes betraying a nasty glint, “That stupid ass Lars better come back home as soon as possible.”

“Let’s just get some sleep,” sighed the fair redhead, “Annie Nan will scold us if we happen to doze off again.”

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This wasn’t a fair fight, Guy Cody knew as much. The problem had never been about Bart’s handicap, but rather his unnerving calm in spite of this. Losing count of minutes passing by, the young lion could only maintain his narrow glare against that smirking bat. As he paced about attempting to find an opening, the Kalaran lad started analysing the situation. Only to find nary a clue with Bart betraying nothing bar his own back against the wooden railing.

Fuck that scoundrel, he’s purposely standing ground on the Sea Conch.

The Sea Conch, a ship named after that legendary war horn owned by Gibron the Seafarer. Said to possess a commanding aura equivalent to a thousand leaders of men, this was another hero enrapturing Guy’s childhood innocence. To think a fat bastard like Parnaby Davow is able to come up with that name, noted a sardonic lion both young and bitter.

“Heroes are not gods, Sand Guy. Please take note if you really want to be one.”

Gnashing his teeth before Lars’ mocking advice haunting him, the lion of Teesside released a snarling roar. Blind Bart taunted him with a dare, he’s now determined to make this single duel count. Gripping Gae Buidhe tightly in both hands, a golden streak was deflected even before the tip could reach its quarry’s throat.

Glowering against an adversary true, Guy could not fathom where Bart got his daggers from. He remembered Lukas mentioning something about Histalonian knives immensely prized for their perfect balance, surely that androgynous friend of his was no liar. However, that did not answer Guy’s unasked question.

Please don’t tell me he conjured shit out of thin air…

Then more daggers flew at him, all seemingly thrown simultaneously. Managing to parry just one out three unleashed, the lion was wounded. A cut across the temple and his side, the raging beast in him started calling for blood. Never before had Guy felt this way until he recalled a certain individual, his damning form standing tall above a sea of charring dead.

I’m gonna settle the score one fine day, just you wait.

An abrupt assault suddenly took place, a flurry of strikes trying to knock Bart off balance. Whistling in an impressive manner, Bart never imagined the young upstart pulling off such a daring move. A normal opponent would opt to play cautious, but not this one. He’s a risk taker and none of those the pirate lord killed before were guilty of having that trait.

You know my back is facing the railing. That’s the correct call, boy.

Fortune favours the bold, Garyth Parkins’ philosophy remained alive and kicking in Guy Cody’s life. Recklessly bold, yes. But this was why he’s willing to play a game of dice pitting hope against despair. Blocking the noise released by seagulls oblivious to the fight below, Guy understood one thing right from the start. One minor mistake and he might as well bade his life farewell.

Six lashes was all Guy Cody could manage, seven quick flicks delivered Bart from whatever danger otherwise. The seventh slash missing its prey by merely an inch or two, the blind brigand nevertheless stayed focused. Motivated by the scent of blood was one thing, relinquishing his absolute advantage in defence quite another. Yet, the boy shall bend his knee before his condescending leer.

With his head missing and his broad mine to fuck.

Never one to throw in the fight, a flashing image branded itself deep in his mind. Playing buff poker had never been so exhilarating before, a bunch of cadets from the Wearside Division promptly floored. It’s all the young lion needed to display an offensive intent without constraint, Pallister Scholes was right in complimenting his drive.

People called you a worthless piece of shit, but I’ve seen people far better and less focused.

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“Stop your gaping, boy,” sighed Moggray Tonn, “You’ll catch sea gnats laying eggs on your tongue.”

Jase Steele promptly shut his jaw, his gaze nonetheless remained fixated on the fight.

“What do you think of him?” smiled Moggray, Jase’s reaction betraying his thoughts.

“I… I…”

“Stop stammering and say something humane,” snapped Moggray without warning, his grey eyes suddenly turning hard.

“I’d gladly wish Lady Karen a blissful union otherwise. Alas once a smallborne, forever one.”

“That’s good enough, Jase,” answered the Northern Lion, his grin growing wider, “That boy already has some other girl in mind.”

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The aggressive barrage never paused even once, a ceaseless storm forged from gold and steel forcing Bart into a passive stance. If not for the ability to materialise knives envisioned from the depth of his mind, he would be feeding the sharks all by himself.

The gods must be blind to grant me Denial of Oblivion.

Despite the furious pressure sustained at breakneck speed, he never wavered a single bit. No matter how many daggers he broke, a boy shall always be one. All he needed was a lucky break. And it will come soon enough, smirked the pirate blind.

A vicious slash received a parry diverting it to the left, Guy shifted his steps to the right. One fluid turn of his trusted spear and Bart took a glancing thrust across the bicep. Finally gaining a vital head start, definitely Bart would collapse from a shrivelled wound soon enough, no matter how minor.

Both combatants sensed the clock winding down, hours converted to minutes and minutes turning into seconds. Everything became a blurring myriad, Bart could only see a lion and Guy Cody a giant bat. Ferocity knew no bounds, agility deprived of sight proven unfathomable. The wind responded to the violent conflict ongoing, both combatants’ hair thrashing along the flow.

Then it all took place in a blur, the lion of Teesside suddenly felt the wooden deck vanishing into thin air. His body became lighter, the wind chilling his spine. His ears went deaf from the roaring waves down below, fear soon seized a stranglehold onto him.

Then he gripped tightly with one hand a sturdy railing.

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“Shit,” grimaced Bigan, “Gody’s fucked.”

A slap promptly knock the wind off his sails, the back of his skull humming a painful lullaby.

“That must have been painful for you, so shut up the fuck up Noisy Gun,” snorted Moggray before turning his sombre visage unto the unnerving scene unfolding.

If Moggray Tonn managed to maintain his stoic form, Jase Steele chose to sell himself to turmoil. Attempts to muster any semblance of courage proven futile, he took a stride forward before getting brutally tripped. Standing on his feet became a torturous chore, the only child of Brynn Steele realised his ankle sprained.

“Pain is good for little boys who don’t know their place,” cooed a squatting Lara, her eyes never departing from a half kneeling lad of noble birth, “Keep watching the show, I tell you.”

“A show of sharks and men,” scoffed Bigan, “You’re a sick whore. Beautiful yes. Sick, confirmed yes.”

“Let’s make a bet, shall we?” reaching out for Moggray’s shirt collar, Lara von Dirkwind plastered her heaving bosom against the veteran’s chest, “If that cub fails, I will make my move.”

“And what if this cub is truly a lion walking amongst men?”

“Then I don’t have to do anything,” winked a winsome Half-Elven rogue.

“None of us have to, but I won’t call it good news,” frowned the Northern Lion as he kept chewing his lower lip.

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The young lion got his breath knocked out, getting winded was never the best way to resume a fight. In battle, mercy shown would mean self-cruelty. Either Bart had gone suddenly crazy or he hadn’t got enough of playing. Neither answer seemed palatable to the young Kalaran.

“You seem calm for a cub prepared for slaughter,” quipped Bart while digging his nose, “Tell me your secret.”

“The secret is very simple,” retorted Guy with a bloody spat, his hand raised in reply, “If you want to torture me straightaway, my hand would’ve gotten a knife.”

A maniacal guffaw accompanied an equally maniacal bandit, Guy Cody stayed stoic nevertheless. After a brief moment of silent reprieve, Bart offered an unexpected question.

“What did you see before I threw you overboard?”

“A bat. A giant one.”

“And I saw lion in you, boy. We indeed belong to the same kind.”

“Fuck you,” snarled Guy, “You can try seeing me send orders to rape a girl, whore or no whore.”

No sooner those words left his ashen lips, the young lion doubled over in burning pain. Scratching his goateed chin with one hand, Bart willed a dagger to appear in the other.

“You’ve got three tries, boy. You can refuse once, twice or thrice. Won’t be fourth time lucky though.”

“Try me four times then and we shall see who dies,” growled a wild lion walking the brink of death, Gae Buidhe currently serving as his crutch.

No sooner the sandy blond voiced his damning intent, a silvery flash tore into his left thigh. Rendered numb in one leg, Guy Cody continued relaying his vehemence through a sneering dare. The second dagger struck true, its blade buried till the hilt at his shoulder. As both hands rejected a truce to loosen grip, knife number three managed to cut in cleanly at Guy’s abdomen. Nausea immediately assumed the form of death, Guy Cody could nearly taste its bitter fruit. He desired a swift death, here and now. Yet, he understood somehow that Bart wasn’t all that willing. Out of nowhere, however, something clicked in him. A recent fragment belonging to the past made its return. And with it heralded a glimmer of future.

Gae Buidhe feeds, Gae Dearg takes away. If you desire something or someone, surely a relevant price must be exacted. You’re blessed with an immense willpower, maybe that’s why you’re so batshit crazy.

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“Wha… what the fuck is that?!” exclaimed Bigan, his stubby finger jabbed towards Guy’s direction while Moggray and Jase enrooted themselves with fearful awe.

“As if I know,” drawled Lara, her smile divulging admiration and mayhap something so much more, “The cub has finally grown an impressive mane.”

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The wind suddenly turned twice as violent, the lion of Teesside relishing a dirge reaching its crescendo. How much had Gae Buidhe consumed, he perceived not. How much was required to unleash Gae Dearg, he understood fairly well. That playboy Lars was right in calling him batshit crazy.

The spear remained unchanged in form and length, yet from refined gold it became a burnished red. If Gae Buidhe represented mortality, what then about Gae Dearg’s meaning behind fatality? Guy Cody failed trying out the latter on Aeranath last time round, this blind murderer would fill in nicely.

A dagger was promptly flung swiftly, its point aimed at his forehead. With the sharpest flick of his wrist, the Crimson Thorn of Fatality cut open the space before Guy’s sapphire gaze. A crimson crescent lashed out at the dagger, an otherwise deadly projectile ended up shattered. In a blinking of an eye, the horizontal arc narrowed itself into a fiery arrow. Bart barely managed to evade the lethal lance, its wrath claiming instead a hostile crossbowman perched upon the opposite stern.

Caring not for his own man receiving a shattered skull with brains showering the rest below, Bart continued fighting the duel he craved so much for. His nerves wracked with ecstasy, never before did he ever had to fight such a difficult opposition. His leer soon transformed itself from sadistic to enthusiastic, now was the time to feel alive.

Damn all the bitches and riches. My time and destination has finally arrived.

His previous composure unflappable suddenly collapsing, such was the choice made by self-volition. Languid movement moments ago morphed into a flurry of foolhardiness, his defensive poise abdicating its throne in favour of a daredevil fighter.

With one moment gone, both repelled each other. Come the second moment passed, Guy Cody stood his stubborn ground. The third was punctuated by crimson lashes and blood red bolts, by the fifth a giant blind was finally mutilated beyond recognition. This was a victory for the supposedly weak, a lion meek nary the truth.

Then Guy Cody finally fell face down, for not even a lion living amongst men could wish to vanquish every foe.

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“How long in the blue fuck must we wait?” grumbled a tattooed boy no older than thirteen, “Boss, I’m so…”

“Hungry,” completed Kymm Lios, “You’re my underling, Alaud. Don’t force me to repeat the same ol’shit.”

“Hey!” hollered Alaud abruptly, “I hear food!”

“Hear that rapping sound, boys?” shouted Kymm, his boisterous gang reciprocating the upcoming challenge, “Moggie’s tellin’ us to bust major ass! Woo!”

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“Here’s your home, Guy. Make yourself comfy, don’t feel shy!”

I looked at the man calling himself Uncle Parky, his face is surely lined with scars. I tried telling him time and again, he said I should try getting some sleep once we reach home.

Home… why do I feel my real home should be at somewhere else? This looks like an inn, only without many girls.

“Oi, Nan! Crazy Park is finally back!”

Wow, that’s one noisy man. I thought people his age tend to be quieter. Wait, who said that? I know somebody did, but I just can’t…

“Yer basterd o’a willie, finelly willin’ ta come home?”

Okay, make that two noisy adults.

“Nan Annie, meet Guy Cody. Guy, just call her Annie Nan.”

Trying a straight gaze at that old woman is pain, I just don’t like her stern look. Human, yes. Nice, no. Then come my most dreaded moment.

“Yer Crazee Parkee’s neh’few? Dat man’s batsheet loonee, lern frum ya’dadee instad. ‘appen ta’ kno ‘im. Gut’d fer bee’nain Gerod…”

I don’t understand a word that sad woman says, but I know who is Gerod. He’s…

Wait, who is Gerod exactly?

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“What’s in that skin bag?”

I glowered at that retarded kid, definitely curiosity won’t bring him back to life.

“Piss.”

Well, guess what? Brat’s look is fucking priceless. Willing to wager my best wine here on every whore willing to pay him for a shag or three.

“It shouldn’t be piss,” frowned the sandy blond little boy, “I thought piss is the water coming out of us.”

Moral of the story: Not every curious kid is stupid. I’m gonna have fun with this.

“Oh, but we sellswords do drink piss and eat shit.”

“Liar.”

I find him sticking out his tongue somewhat grotesque, it must have been how I disembowelled some sick fuck bounty who got his kicks from castrating little boys.

“Ceres is teacher. She explained piss and shit to me.”

A teacher? Must have been an attractive spinster.

“Tell me how old this Ceres of yours is, so that I can pay her some money.”

Oh fuck, boy doesn’t look happy. He must have been to some whorehouse without getting educated.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, but I don’t like your tone,” retorted a little boy mightily pissed off.

“You might as well say you don’t like my expression also.”

I hope he gets my answer because I hate playing petty arguments with petty little folks. Go eat shit, Ziron.

“Expression? You mean face? But I only don’t like your tone!”

Someone here must have gone full retard, it’s either me or him. I’m willing to give myself that benefit of doubt though. Guess I should really pay this Ceres a visit.

“Ceres is only thirteen and she’s a teacher. She doesn’t work in that inn full of girls because I don’t like the men there.”

Okay, something’s definitely wrong with his education. Decent people don’t let their kids wander about. Can’t say the same for these decent folks, what a shame.

“Here, take this.”

Entrusting my wineskin to someone incapable of appreciating liquor must have been my craziest stunt thus far, but I don’t care. Hyo’Ah was right in questioning my common sense till death did us part.

“Take this piss and sell it for some money. Get me?”

No answer given, only crickets chirping in the cool evening sky. But then again, what else do I expect from a kid who happened to take a wee little swig? The night is gonna be long and full of bullshit.


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