And he can't hold off the temptation..

Temptation to blog, I might add. It has been almost one month since the last post (which drew quite a bit of, well, attention to my 'standard of English' ) and I intended to starve myself of Internet for a month, effectively trying to do an Internet fasting period. Lord knows how I suffered. Yet, life hasn't been all dreadful to me here. The longer one stays here in this isolated college, the more life's simple things seem more obvious.

Being the romanticist I am, sometimes things that were taken for granted can jump out at you and make you breathless. Even more so when one has been living for nothing but studies and the ultimate aim of just surviving it all. Speaking of surviving, the Advanced Subsidiary examination was.. daunting? Too early to say still, since we have only covered 5 papers, with 4 more to go. The last two papers for me were disastrous. Sickening and not at all up to par. Makes me cringe everytime I think of the stupid mistakes I made. Bleargh.

I can't wait to go back to Kuching. Speaking of which, some of my friends are going over for a little trip to see Kuching for the first time. Estella and I shall be their tour guides of sorts.

I miss Sarawak laksa so damn much.

I miss my friends at Kuching too. The crazy dudes and dudettes. The good old days. Alas, some things are not meant to last. Memories that linger between the undefined boundary of oblivion and eternity float like a petty wooden boat in the middle of a raging sea. Raging sea of clashing emotions and regrets.

4 more papers to go. I will get through this.



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He panted and tried to catch his breath. His heart beat like a violent war drum, unceasing and ever forceful. His vision was clearer. Everything appeared to move slower and even Time itself seemed to lag. The adrenaline rush had been a boon. Had it been otherwise, he might have been slain, just like that, in the midst of the Plains of Norgrod.

They had been ambushed by a marauding platoon of Krugs. Those vile creatures - warlike, barbaric and vicious, living a life of savagery, sworn enemies of the Empire. Nobody knows where they came from. The mystics at the arcane sanctum of Arnorminas knew enough that they had a primal instinct for dominance and went to war under the guidance of a shadowy patriarchal figure. The people knew enough that when they came, they left only a trail of destruction behind. The soldiers knew enough that in battle, they have to rely on their wits and muster every ounce of courage and strength to survive. For these Krugs are born warriors, their eyes shone with bloodlust, their armours thick, shields broad and axes deadly.

It was a fact he had to learn the hard way. The lesson was reinforced and hammered into his head once again when he looked down. Only then did he realise the agonising pain in his upper arm. Had it not been for the rerebrace and pauldron, his whole left arm would have been sliced clean off his shoulder joint. His right thigh bled from an arrow that managed to punch a hole right through the coat of chainmail. He groaned, reached down and pulled it out. This one wasn't poisoned, he thought as he examined it. Not many in the army had his good luck then.

The rest were treading carefully around the bodies and discarded weapons. None had fallen. Good. They were not supposed to fall like toy soldiers that easily. It was what the training was for. Some recovered useful materials. The others piled the dead Krugs into a heap.

"Burn everything, do not leave anything behind. These Krugs are resourceful." he ordered the men. "We shall move out by nightfall. Those of you who are wounded, patch yourselves up and rest lightly. We have to move quickly. The fire would draw the rest from the mountains, if indeed they are intending to push southwest into the outlying villages. We do not want our heads rolling on the fields now, do we?" That drew some laughters from the men. Spirits were high, their morale undented.

That night, under the rare soft beam of the full moon, they marched on ahead, leaving behind a burnt, smoking pile. They held their heads high, fearless, even as the distant sound of the dreaded wardrums closed in behind them.