Monday, March 30, 2009

Athanor! Athanor! the Festival of Nationhood!
Day for Tyatora's streams, hills, and woods.
Today! Today, memories of ancient days heard again, once more!
Today, Today, Sweet Festival of Athanor!
We look on gladly into the future, and back to happy days of yesteryear,
Days, past and present, Days afar and near.

Today, today, we celebrate!
Mighty cities open up their gates!
The streets in town filled with tunes of songs.
Distant be the clash of our township's silver gong!
Merry be the people, who dance upon beach and coast,
Athanor! Day of gift-givers, of gay guests and hosts.

Athanor! Families today shall reunite,
Come round, come hear, as we spin yarns in firelight.
Oath of Peace renewed 'tween foes and friends,
Son and sire, dame and daughter come to make ammends.
Older men seem old no more,
Like gone their many scars of war.

As the Festival of Athanor brightens their face!

Navmar, Volmar, alin-olkvo shedey,
Defratmar sofiltineyi Athanor!
Yeelra alin-olkvo!
Yeelra defrat!
Defratmar sifoltineyi Atahnor!
Navmanr, Volmar, alin-olkvo shedey.

Near-away, far-away, the good people celebrate!
Today the Fest of Athanor!
Happy are the the people,
Happy is the day!
Today the the Fest of Athanor!
Nearaway, faraway, good people celebrate!


Friday, March 27, 2009

Another fantasy-poem. This one isn't too sad.

The Eastern Whales, the descendants of Tranalri,
Who sing under ancient stars, and under open sea,
In search of Hidden Tralvinurr,
The place once of their ancestors, a place of old lore.

None, in all the many realms of the deep,
Know where Hidden Tralvinnur lies,
Where time itself seems to have fallen asleep,
Who's timeless sea-beds age defies.

And so the Whales are singing,
bellowing heavily in the waves,
In hope to hear the reverbration,
That all of Whale-race craves.

That echoes across the sea so vast,
And fills the crying shades of blue,
And Hidden Tralvinurr sings back,
humming the whalesong, great and true.

The rocks of Hidden Tralvinurr,
Will echo out the whale-tune,
When it hears that song again, once more,
Under the glowing palor of the moon.

Perhaps the Whales may find their place,
Where krill and herring come in numbers great,
Rebuild their slowly dwindling race,
And restore the broken Cetamor State.

On the Ocean throne of Anidralut,
A mighty whale-king may yet again arise,
And retake from the pirates, their stolen loot,
That the whale-song may again shake the waves and skies.

But of yet, the kingdom of the Western Whales,
Again, has gone asleep,
Dormant through the winters,
Till awakened from the Deep.

And when the once-fallen land, Tralvinurr, has awakened,
Deep will be the singing of the whale-song.
The foes of cetaceans may be shaken,
And broken the manacles that had held the Free Lords so long

The Eastern Whales, the descendants of Tranalri,
Who sing under ancient stars, and under open sea,
In search of Hidden Tralvinurr,
The place once of their ancestors, a place of old lore.

Delayed Kuantan photos

Friday, March 20, 2009

Aha! I've finally found the deep secret of pasting photos! I'm such a technological dinosaur. Anyways, here are a few of the beach pictures we took in Kuantan during Chinese new Year.

Pyramid and Shovel

Tropical Paradise

My Brother

Running Water

Sunset Beachgoers

Empty Beach

Seaside Stroll

William the Conqueror: Autobiography

Sunday, March 15, 2009

They called me William the Bastard, for that was what I was –a William and a son of two lovers. My father, the Duke Robert of Normandy, used to tell me he met my mother dancing by the stream. They fell in love; I was the result, born in 1027, anno domini.

Normandy is a rather small bit of land on the coast of Northwestern France that my ancestors had managed to haggle out of the French king some generations ago. I know almost nothing of what really happened (history has always bored me), but somehow or rather my father became duke, and got all the smaller lords and barons in Normandy under his thumb.

That’s me in the picture! When I was seven, my father Robert decided to go on a pilgrimage. Perhaps he had done a great deal of wrong things, and felt a need to make up for those before he died. He explicitly said in his will I was his heir, and I was to take control if he didn’t return.

He didn’t return.

So when I was seven years old, I became William, Duke of Normandy. The problem was, though, that the other lords and barons that had been controlled by my dad weren’t happy with me in power, and war broke out in the region. Suddenly almost everyone was out to get me, so my few loyal relatives kept me in hiding. It was a rough childhood. I hardly understood during the first few years why I had to leave my comfortable castle for dank caves and cooped-up cottages. I learned much and saw much during that time, and swordfights and quick-wittedness became ingrained into my mind and heart.

By the time I was nineteen, I had finally managed to get the military help of the French king, and with that I proceeded to crush the mutinous barons at the town of Caen. Now I, like my father, had got all Normandy under my thumb. I sat down to rule Normandy. Some would say I had an iron grip, but I doubt there was any other way to rule this unruly land. I was harsh, and I was a fierce warrior. That kept me as Duke.

Perhaps it might be important to mention a little of my family relations in order to explain this part of my life better. You see, I was related to the king of England through my great-aunt Emma (May she rest in peace). So when the King of England died (May he also rest in peace), I discovered I had a better claim to the throne than the heir the king of England wanted: Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex. I wanted England for myself. Yes, I had Normandy, but why shouldn’t I have Normandy and England with it?

I also reminded Harold of a promise he made some years ago before the English king’s death. By a wind of my good fortune (and a wind of ill-fate for Harold), King-to-be Harold’s ship got wrecked on my coast, and I decided to play a little game. I brought the heir to my palace, and treated him to good meals and good soft bedding. Then I promised Harold that I would bring him back safely to England, if he swore to give me the crown of England upon his king’s death.

Poor Harold did not refuse the bargain. My ancient ancestor had haggled Normandy out of the ancient French king’s lands, and I had haggled England out of Harold’s hands. Notice the resemblance?

However, when Harold returned, and the old English king died, Harold refused to just hand me the crown. He made himself king, and dared me to come over and take the crown off his head. I prepared Normandy for war. England was to be mine!

While I was getting ready and waiting for the right time to strike, Harold was fighting other people who also envied his throne. Harold bravely defeated them all, with the exception of me.
In 1066, we met in battle, for the first and last time. I had already landed on Hastings, southern Britain, with seven thousand knights, footmen, archers, and mercenaries. Harold had an army of spearmen, and a few archers.

The Battle of Hastings lasted all day, but my horsemen and knights overrode and crushed Harold’s line of infantry. Harold got shot in the eye, and died. I had fought King Harold Godwinson and won. I conquered Britain and had myself crowned King. I was ruler of two whole countries!

People no longer called me William the Bastard. Now they called me William the Conqueror, as I am known in those pieces of tree-scrap parchment you call “books”.

I proceeded to set up my government in Britain, established a stable tax system, put down all the little rebellions around my new lands, built brand-new castles, and returned back to Normandy to supervise both of my kingdoms. Now, after all the excitement of victorious conquest, I felt bored. So I continued going into wars and getting out of them; I suppose I never felt whole without at least some form of fighting every now and then. Some might say it is in every Norman duke’s blood instinct to go to battle (and hopefully, win).

Alas, in one such battle, I got wounded. An arrow got stuck in my shoulder, dangerously near my heart. My physicians tried to pull it out, but to no avail. Now, at my deathbed, in the year 1087, I have gotten a solid, stout priest to write for me this brief account of my life, so somebody in the far future may read and be inspired.

And I’m so vain.



Saturday, March 14, 2009

Ahh, my first tag. Alas, i have actually made a tag! This one will be all about old times and memories. Hope the tagged people (and untagged ones, too) like it!

1. Name one object that brings up good recollections of your very young childhood (4 years and below).

I remember having this stuffed orca toy. I called it (or him, to be sentimentally correct) "Dimmy". We got that two-foot killer whale at a garage sale once, and I used to carry him everywhere I went in the house. He had one-eye when he bought him, and his dorsal fin leaned beautifully on one side. Dimmy felt so real to me, a fellow friend and adventurer in my imaginary explorations and endeavours. He remains the fondest of my childhood musings, the little black-and-white, angelic cetacean that was such a quiet companion for me.

2. How old were you when you first started using the computer or TV?

I started tv when I was two or so. I started using the computer when I was 6+.

3. Did you enjoy any form of vegetables/fruits you were willing to eat when you were 4 and below, but hate now?

Nope. I don't really hate any kind of food. The only exception would be durian, but I didn't like it then, and I certainly don't like it now.

4. Were there any foods you disliked when you were young, but love now?

Yes. I recall celery and onions were. I don't take onions raw, though. Such cowardice.

5. What was the first fad you had? (e.g. Transformers, animals, Barney, Bob the Builder, Star Wars, Hot Wheels)

That would be my fascination with dinosaurs. I dropped it after a couple years or so, but that was one of my longest lasting fads.

6. Did you enjoy your first day at school (or kindergarten)?

Hmm, I can't recall. I know it's mean ot get other people to answer a question I can't, but. . .

7. Have you ever enjoyed reading? What was the first book you ever read by yourself (or were forced to read)?

Yes! The first book I remember reading was this little book called "Little Hedgehog helps Out." It's a one-sentence-a-page book about a little hegehog assisting his family clean the house and get dinner ready. I distinctly remember examining the last two pages in that picture-book to decide what the hedge-family was eating.

8. How heavy were you when you were just born?

My mom said I was 9 pounds, 13 ounces. Apparently that was huge. "The biggest in the hospital," as my Grandmother proudly says.

I'm out. I tag, Yellowman, Tim, Ben, David (from Edison), and Jian Lin.
Tag five other people after doing this tag.

God bless,

Pining Phoenix

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Haven't written such a long poem in a while.

In the grassy, green, slopes in realm afar,
East of Crinsehr, West of Tyatora,
North of the Coastline, south of the pits of tar,
Lies the land of the Phoenixes of Pierah.

The Phoenixes of Pierah,
Who came from distant land,
Growers of peach and aloe vera,
Far from Leprechauns and men.

A wondrous race of bird were they,
Those fire-birds of wingspan great,
Whose feather like red roses in May,
Whose beak like carven stone of agate.

And so these orioles of flame,
Came upon these open slopes,
Upon a land without a name,
A land of freedom and new hope.

They settled there,
And grew their aloe vera and peach,
they colonized their kingdom fair.
out of man's and giant's reach.

For a thousand years their people rule,
lived upon the hills and dales,
In the kingdom of mountain and pool.
There they were, scarlet wings, plumed tails.

Then the men of Korasarrh,
Came into this wondrous land,
They came to raid; to break; to mar,
With the power of the lances in their hands.

The phoenixes now rose, united as one,
and sharpened the blades their ancestors had born,
Rallied they, Flame-Birds of the Sun,
Who now wore the armor their forefathers had worn.

But alas, the phoenixes were broken,
Crushed by charging spear,
before the axes of the Korasarrh men,
And many, for their loved ones, shed tear.

The phoenixes left the Land Without Name,
dispersed to the distant corners of the earth,
Sad were they, to leave the Kingdom of the Phoenixes of Flame
The land of their heritage, the land of their birth.

Now, today, they hide by cover of night,
englow the fields with their burning fire,
They emit a sad, mournful form of light,
In the fiefdoms and shires.

Tonight, you might hear a sorrowed phoenix pining,
Weeping for the pain that throbs within her heart,
Perhaps see her feathers shining,
As she spreads her great wings apart.

Their song is heard now,
Loud and piercing,
One that saddens men, birds, and cows.
One that sends the ground to quivering.

Shaking mountain,
Halting wind,
breaking fountain,
roaring din.

And such is the pining of the Phoenixes,
wailing and sad.

Tyatora III

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Yay! I've developed and drafted the races of Tyatora.

Now I need a history (desparately). Hmm. . . This will take a while.

Tyatora is, err, 324 years old. It was created as a confederacy of the various races I mentioned, directly after the Colovician Wars*. The seven leaders of the seven races met at the town of Tillari, and forged a unique alliance, or the Treaty of Tyatroin.

The Treaty was created mainly as a military precaution, a joining of several weak states to form a stable economy and standing defense force in a battle-ravaged land. Tyatorans see this date as the foundng of a nation, a creation of a people. This date is the first year in the Tyatoran calendar.

All years upon this are described based on the number of years away they are from the year of the Treaty. For example, if you were to see the date, "246, N.T.," it means it is 246 years after the year of the treaty. As for the mysterious "NT", the initials stand for, in the Tyatoran tongue, Nigh-aget Tyatroin, or, in English, "Upon the Year of the Tyatroin Treaty."

I think that's all I'll do this post. I won't go into people, events, and places yet. I'm trying to make a framework with which I can use to create more tales and stories on. I hope to make individual records of how each ethnic species came to the land of Tyatora soon.

*The Colovician Wars were a series of wars that occured off and on over one hundred years before 1 NT. It was sparked off by the human earl named Colovici, who incited several wars to wipe out the other races of the continent. Immediately, good human barons, Firk-nott warrior-priests, and gnomes allied to destroy his army. He won the first war, but lost the other five wars he launched. He and most of his men were wiped out in the Battle of Ghimlass. However, his immediate posterity established great castles and forts of resistance, and it took many more years of fighting to destroy these mighty strongholds. By then, the entire continent was tired, exhausted of the raging wars that had gone on for more than one hundred years.