Rae, Who Wrestles





Hey man, this isn’t about you.
· I
· AM

· · LORD


Daniel Triumph.

For more oddball poetry featuring Janna Rhye, try Wavering draft 3

P.S. if you see any spelling mistakes, please tell me, I can’t spell check this poem at all.

Stories from the Greatest Knight in Modern History

If you’ve been on this site for a long time, you know that I love not just classics, but also the forerunners in the Novel genre. Some of the first Novels ever written were Robinson Crusoe, Gulliver’s Travels and Don Quixote. Both were preceded by a plethora of Greek Novels that I’ve fallen in love with, like Callirhoe and Daphnis and Chloe, and even works I’m not so interested in, such as The Golden Ass. As fun and interesting as those Greek Novels were, they were very archetypal, that is, typical of the technical comedy genre.

The more modern novels like Don Quixote (written in 1612 by Miguel De Cervantes), hold premises that to this day remain unique. Don Quixote is an old man living in a world that has recently grown out of medieval Knights and Kings. He decides to become a knight, and bring back chivalry, donning his grandfather’s rusted armour, mounting his horse, and recruiting his neighbour Sancho Panza. These extra chapters were written by a guest writer, and edited by me and some of my friends.

Writer: Andrew Triumph
Editor(s): Daniel Triumph
and Maya Singh

Don Quixote Punishes a Thief

Don Quixote and his squire Sancho Panza were complimenting their latest adventure just as the sun passed its highest point. On their most recent quest to right the wrong, help the needy, and loot any fallen foe to get in their way, Quixote had encountered an especially tough opponent, one who had no knowledge of Quixote’s noble intentions. It was this ignorance that had led the man to a swift defeat when Quixote hit him on the head with his lance.

Honoré Daumier  1808 – 1879

After the skirmish, Quixote found that the tough part of this encounter was not defeating the enemy, but rather the recovering of the sack that had been dropped. The loot in question had fallen down a hole. Thinking quickly, Don Quixote ordered his squire to retrieve their prize.

Sancho Panza usually had his ass do all  of his work. The ass dutifully went into the ditch, but the mule couldn’t pick up the sack, nor could it get out of the hole on his own. It was because of this that Sancho was forced to not only retrieve the sack, which Quixote had claimed to contain stolen goods, but also his heavy mule.

Being the kind of man he was, Sancho resisted his duty immediately, saying that they had done enough knightly justice by punishing the offender, and that it was up to the victim to retrieve his own goods. This protest was swiftly refuted. Quixote explained that, because the thief had fallen to him, a knight, the stolen goods were now rightfully his. He added that due to both the knightly code and as reward for their good deeds, the stolen goods were now rightfully his. Though Sancho knew little of the knightly code, he knew much of his rights as a squire. He knew that the spoils therefore rightfully his.

It was this reflection that motivated Sancho to fumble down the hole, grab the bag, and climb back up. He had to catch his breath before falling down the hole again. When Sancho had reached the bottom, he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to move his mule. While Sancho pondered how he could possibly move so stout a creature, the ass trotted out of the hole.

Once Sancho climbed out, he noticed that Quixote had already started down the path ahead. Sancho mounted his ass and caught up. While they rode, Sancho dug into the contents of the bag. In it, he saw a couple of silver reals, a poorly made wooden sculpture, a pendant, and a pair of cotton gloves.

“Are you sure it was a thief?” Sancho asked.

“Of course!” Quixote replied, “his apparel made it obvious.”

Sancho didn’t remember seeing anything strange about the stranger’s was clothing, but this explanation satisfied him. He took the reals out of the sack and put them in one of his bags, then he handed the sack to Quixote, who took it and examined the contents.

“I admit that he mustn’t have been a good thief,” Don Quixote said as he put on the gloves, “none of these items are worth thieving.”

Don Quixote Fights a Witch

The sun had begun its decent and the clouds were spread across the sky as Quixote and his squire rode into an overgrown field. A lonely figure stood in the center, surrounded by a sea of grass. It was waist high. Sancho found the scene quite relaxing; pink dusk contrasting green grass, a forest separating it from the horizon. The scene, as well has his previous tumble with certain holes, were enough to make Sancho quite drowsy.


Honoré Daumier  1808 – 1879

“Don’t fall asleep!” Quixote warned his squire, “For you won’t wake again if you do.”

Just before Sancho could get any words out of his yawning mouth, Quixote explained, “You are under the witch’s spell, it will drain your soul from slumber.”

“What witch?” Sancho asked.

“That witch there!” Quixote exclaimed under his voice.

“I don’t see any witch.”

“She has gotten to your perception already. Stay here, and I will sneak up to her before she can hex me away.”

Sancho nodded and pulled out a loaf of bread. He watched Quixote dismount his horse and crawl towards the figure in the field. Now alone, he took the opportunity to break wind.

It was on his third bite of the bread that he could no longer see Quixote’s figure among the grass. He had eaten half of the loaf when he saw Quixote rise behind the figure in the distance.

“In the name of Dulcinea del Toboso and all that is right, I smite thee, most vile and wretched being!” Quixote lifted his lance with both hands and brought it down hard upon the figure. A great spray of dust arose, the figure’s head fell off and plopped to the ground.

Bewildered by this sudden act of decapitation, Sancho hurried his ass to Quixote and the headless figure. As he approached, he saw what had been supporting the figure — a single leg that, until now, was hidden in the grass.

“It’s a scarecrow,” Sancho said.

“It is now,” Quixote explained, becoming quite tired of Sancho’s persistent ignorance, “have you learned nothing from our encounter with the Giants? The witch must have turned herself into a scarecrow just like how she turned those Giants into windmills, right before my lance’s strike.”

Sancho ate the rest of his loaf.

“This sorcery has been her very undoing.  She will not be able to turn back to her ungodly form to continue her evil deeds for she will exsanguinate if she tries to change back without a head.” Quixote explained all of this slowly to make sure Sancho did not become too confused. He took the sorcerer’s twine-bound head in his arms and gave it to his squire to stow away as proof of his chivalrous act. “One less witch to torment this land.”

With both the world and Sancho’s mistake righted once again, Quixote set up camp and they fell asleep.

Alexandre Gabriel Decamps 1803 – 1860

Andrew Triumph

Thank you for coming to read this post from my blog’s first guest writer!

Please come back next Thursday for the next chapter of The Solune Prince.

The Solune Prince: Mental/Physical Resisance

The Solune Prince

 Novella 1

Chapter 4
Mental/Physical Resistance

“Why did I say anything? Nerves?”


Chloe exited the castle. The city had been built around the stone building’s backside, which meant that in order to get into the city, she had to exit from the front, walk half a kilocubit, and re-enter through the impenetrable main gate. In concept, it was an effective way to keep the citizens safe from bandits and raids, but in everyday life, it was nothing more than a detour.

To assemble a research team, the university would have been a good first stop. It was not where Chloe went. Her default response to meeting new people was simple—don’t. She was aware that such an approach was flawed and impossible given her task, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t procrastinate. Chloe, instead, headed for the home of someone she did know.

The door opened after a few tolls on the bell. A pale man with dark hair and bright eyes opened the door. He was more than an entire head shorter than Chloe, so eye contact was a chore for both of them.

“Good morning, Chloe.”

“Did you just wake?”

“Yes, but not because of you. I live with the earliest bird in the tree. As a result, I enjoy waking up an hour before even the sun on a daily basis. Even off days.”

“Right. Where is she?”

Finch, Chloe remembered, had married somewhere between three and seven years ago. (Her memory for such things was limited.)

He said, “Well, while it is a weekend, she should be leaving…” he looked to the sun, “A little while ago. Alice!”

Finch called out behind him, and an athletic-bodied, bare-chested woman skipped to the door, her upper half jamming itself into a top that seemed too small.

When she had dressed, she said, “Hi Chloe, I have to go! Visit me some time?” And then sprinted away.

They watched for a few moments as she ran towards the heart of the city. Alice was undoubtedly one of the friendliest, most competent, and certainly the physically strongest of the Solune city guards. The strength came from her heritage; Alice was of the Plainkind, a people who were particularly biologically deviant. Mhm… larger teeth, wider torsos, and musculature that is simply and unfairly more naturally powerful. What an unfair race to be put in our midst.

Chloe had come to know a certain Plainkind very well almost a year ago during the Legendary War; the war which had opened the walls to outsiders for the first time.

Chloe caught herself daydreaming. She turned back to Finch and said, “Ah, can we sit maybe?”

“Sure, I happen to own a kitchen table.”

They sat and caught up, as they had not spoken for so extended a period in nearly a year. Finch explained that he had recently left the guard to study kemia and physics. Chloe told him about her trip, and the Lussa, and then finally her current mission.

“Oh nice. Isn’t that the whole thing you’ve been complaining about this past month?”

“Yes. I’m wondering if you know of anyone I could bring, anyone academic.”

“You could check out the university.”

“Yes, but who for?”

Finch considered. He really didn’t know anyone. “Oh, well, you could always try my cousin Alexandre.”

“Yeah? What field?”

“Kemia, but more recently the hormonal differences between the kingdom’s various ethnicities. We are all quite unique, it seems. Especially the N’Tarial, and Riley like myself.”

“Oh. Is he married? Okay with leaving town for a few months?”

“She should be fine.”


They ended up having tea, and then eventually lunch before Chloe finally stood to leave. Before she went out the door, Finch added, “She’s just out of prison a couple years ago though, so she can be a little rough around the edges.”

“Ah…” Chloe lost what little momentum she had at this. I guess it would be right to assume that she is going to be something of a hassle.


As usual, the university’s flora was entirely overgrown. The grass was knee-high, and vines draped over trees and buildings. There had been a set of large stone letters that read ‘THE SOLUNE ACADEMY’ but the rock was new entirely covered in lichen and leafed plants. At least it is still readable. I can understand everything else, but why not clean off the lettering?

The paths that lead from building to building were where the health and safety concerns really began. The cobble had a thick layer of moss, and it would detach and slide if you stepped on it incorrectly. The liberal and academic solution was simply to put up a sign, ‘slipping hazard.’ Luckily for the faculty and the students, there was someone more conservative and practical who had added ‘shovel walkways’ to the list of janitorial tasks.

The only thing that kept the path up to municipal code was the footpath of stone that ran through the moss, wide enough only for one person, and cleared weekly.

Chloe sighed. I love it here.

She headed first to the administration building. Then, because it was locked and unlit, she went to the biokem building to see if anyone was there. Also locked. The lounge building maybe?

There was only two people in the lounge. What is going on? Chloe surveyed the building. Lunch tables, some longer seats, a café area, and a woman who looked like she was from the Djeb. Chloe looked around and saw a calendar.

Oh no, it’s Secast, ah, it is the weekend. Of course everything is closed!


Chloe spun around so fast that she lost her balance and fell forward. She was caught by the Djeb woman.

“Oh, ah, thank you.”

“Sure! Are you a student her?”

Chloe looked at her. The Djeb had sand coloured hair and down-turned eyes. Her skin seemed a touch darker and thicker than even an a moderately outdoorsy Solune. She was, all in all, not that much different than other Djeb people Chloe had seen—not even that much different than the Solune when, she thought about it. The woman also had the universal Djeb neutral expression, one of both constant joy and concern.

“I am Alumni.”

“Oh! Even better! Would you like to do an interview with me?

Chloe squinted at her. “Not right now. I am, ah, I’m looking for Alexandre Dirge, but I do not think she is here today.”

“Oh, probably not.”

“Yes… You would not happen to know where she is, or how I might contact her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ah, is there anyone I might leave a message with?”

“I’m not sure.”

Chloe wasn’t quite sure if the woman was being evasive on purpose. She said, “You, you’re a little frustrating to engage.”

“Why’s that?” The Djeb smiled.

Chloe frowned, “Do you need something from me?”

“Yes—but wait, aren’t you busy?”

“Ah,” she paused, lining up her contractions before speaking, “not if Alex isn’t here. If she is not, I won’t be busy until next day.”

“Wonderful! My name is Senica, I’m an anthropologist from the south.”

“You mean the west, where the Djeb is?”

“Nope,” Senica grinned, “the south.”

That does not make sense, there’s only a mountain to the south. Chloe decided, despite the contradiction, not to get into it. Senica was already irritating her enough on her own, she would rather not keep her talking.

“I came here to do some research and ask people some questions.”

“I, ah, Senica, I am not in a good mood.”

“Oh, well… okay.” She looked a little dejected, but recovered quickly; a good skill for someone conducting surveys to have.

They parted ways. Chloe went homeward.


On the way back, passing through the market, she saw someone with short black hair and pale skin. Finch? No, far too tall… and feminine. Who…

The woman was arguing with a stall keeper. Chloe got close enough to hear.

“Look, I’ve even used these before. I’ve worked with the guard too.”

Chloe saw that she was at a smith, a swords booth.

“It doesn’t matter, you need a permit.” Then he added under his breath, “This is why I hate coming to market.”

Chloe, feeling bored, failed and frustrated, decided to step in and see if could help one of them; she just wasn’t sure which one. I just need… an outlet, a distraction. Maybe I can solve this, or at least try.

“What is, ah, what’s happening here?” She slipped up in her first sentence, and the Riley noticed. She also noticed Chloe’s nervous tone of voice.

“This Riley wants to get a hard edge sword, but lacks the permit. She’s not allowed to purchase a weapon, no one can without a permit!”

Chloe thought for a moment, and then said, “No one?”

His eyes widened with recognition, but he quickly returned to his unhappy expression. “Well, there are exceptions.”

“Not exceptions. They are clear and in the law. There are no exceptions in Solune governing. And,” she turned to the Riley. Her speech was beginning to speed up; she was reaching her limit. “What of you? Who are you?”

The Riley spat on the dirt. “I am Jutt. Soon, you would call me Dr. Dirge.”

“Are you Alexandre Dirge?”

Chloe’s system released a hit of adrenaline, and her senses sped up. She took a good look at Alexandre. She really did look like a feminine Finch, but her hair was a little longer, and oddly kept. It was as if she patted it down in the morning, but as the day went on, the split ends tangled together, making it all look rugged and pointy. Her face was more pale than was usual for a Riley, and her expression seemed to be stuck in one of scorn. The biggest difference, however, was that she could look Alexandre squarely in the face. She was almost as tall as Chloe, which was quite strange for a Riley. It was also quite an advantage, as Alexandre used her height to throw aggression laden looks at her as they spoke.

“Don’t worry about it, Prince.” Alexandre turned to leave.

Wait! No, I need to say something more forceful than wait. “No.”

Alexandre glanced back apathetically and stepped away. Chloe, who was both taller and broader, grabbed the Riley’s wrist.

“I have been looking for you. You are a student of Kemia, right?”

Alexandre tried unsuccessfully to wrench away.

Chloe sort of lost herself in thought. I am stronger than someone who wishes to wield a sword. I wonder why? Perhaps that is why she wants one, because she’s weak? Wait… Chloe remembered what Finch had told her. Why was she imprisoned?

“I’m not working for the castle.”

She wrenched again.

“No, not the castle, I am going on an expedition to study the Lussa, I, ah, I’m assembling a research team.”


Chloe let go. Alexandre skulked away, rubbing her wrist only when she thought she was out of sight. Chloe still saw. She turned back to the blacksmith and said goodbye, and scanned the market.


She stood in the middle of the bustling market, and entered a state of deep thought.

Daniel Triumph.

Table of Contents

Next week will be an unrelated story.

The Solune Prince: Decision, InConcision

The Solune Prince

Novella 1

Chapter 3: Decision, InConcision

Morning came, but far too slowly. Chloe woke up mired, she felt as if she had slept a fraction of the hours that she’d spent in bed. When she woke up, time seemed to be moving faster than normal. She was used to mornings like this, days with less-than-ideal sleep always seemed to mess with her perception. Nothing had come from her tainted rest, in fact, she couldn’t even remember what she had dreamed. So much for deliberation.

With a sigh and an empty mind, Chloe went down the three flights to the basement. The trip did nothing to rouse her mind. She ordered food from what was effectively a ‘castle residents only’ canteen or diner.

It was a full breakfast, meats and eggs and a potato, fried in a slew of animal fats. It is good that we finally have cooks. For all of her adolescence, Chloe had simply burned whatever she wanted to eat, and then eaten it. A morning-lunch chef is far better.

When she had finished, Chloe decided to take a bath rather than meet with her parents, but the idea of drawing water for herself changed her mind. Perhaps a trip to the library? But all that walking… and more stairs too. It was extremely difficult to procrastinate when each of her alternatives required more effort than what she was avoiding.

Resigned, Chloe walked back up to the base floor and entered the throne room. It was located directly across from the foyer, the grand double-doored entrance to the castle. Usually, the entrance room was empty around this time, but since the walls had opened there had always been a few people lined up to see the King—even though he would not be in the throne room for some time. They were of all backgrounds; light, dark, darker; from the north, east, and west; all looking for a better life.

Chloe skipped the line and entered the stone-walled throne room. Having no windows, the room was dark, so she dropped the iron chandelier and lit it. She raised the metal lights using the rope and pulley system, and then finally felt the presence in the room. Someone else was there. Chloe looked around, and then the door opened behind her. An extremely tall woman entered wearing guard uniform. Her hair was neck length, the patches on her left shoulder kept unobstructed, identifying as Guards’ Captain. It was Chloe’s oldest sister, Natasha Glass Rhye.

“Astore, you have returned,” she said.

“Yes,” a voice came from the edge of Chloe’s vision, the edge of the light.

Chloe turned and finally saw him on the leftside wall. “You were in her? Why did not you say anything!”

Astore shrugged, “Why didn’t you?”

“The King is coming presently,” said Natasha.

She strode to the secondary throne and stood. Chloe and Astore waited near the door. They stood silently and waited. Natasha, the reluctantly early riser, was used to this. For Chloe it was very awkward; especially with everyone else there.

“Ah!” Chloe said. Astore! I should have made up my mind by now! Oh no, I wish that I had come up with something when I… and the dreaming… nothing helped. Astore turned to her, and she pretended that she had been yawning. Natasha, as a result, caught the fake yawn. She fidgeted, not knowing what to do. Her mind wasn’t yet active, and wouldn’t be until noon at least. I need more time. I will ask for more time. It will be fine.

The King entered. He spoke with Natasha about the allocation of guards. The plain-faced Captain was almost taller than her colossal father. The issue of recruiting immigrants was postponed for a different hour, and she left.

“Astore,” said the King.

“Lilllith is treating the trip as some form of expedition, mapping the lands as she goes. She will arrive in three or more days at her current pace. Also, I noticed a group tailing her. At their pace, they could be here comfortably by the end of the day. But, of course, they weren’t following me, so I doubt they’ll be coming here.”

“Who were they?”

Astore shrugged, “No clue, but they were all Lussa, and they looked like the sort that would rather kill than speak to you. And, I made sure they never saw me, even when I was speaking to Lilllith.”

Did you tell her about them? Chloe wanted to ask, but she didn’t yet have the energy to open her mouth.

“Did you tell her?” Natasha asked. Chloe felt muted delight.

“Yeah, she told me she knew about them and figured that they were part of the other side. Whatever problems the Lussa have might end up bleeding into our Kingdom. I don’t think that we should keep Lilllith here for too long.”

“Very well, I agree. We should send her and ourselves over as soon as we can. Chloe?”

“If I could have another day to—” The door hit her in the back.

“Fool, don’t stand so close.” It was her mother. “Oh, and Astore is here. So?”

“Three days.”

“Very well.” Gwenhime walked across the room and stood to the King’s right.

Rhye said, “Hmm. Chloe?”

Entirely distracted with the pain in her back and the door, she said, “Ah, I am fine.”

“Excellent. Be ready to leave the kingdom in three days.”

“The third of the month,” added Astore.

What. Chloe wanted to scream. She had accidentally consented to going before she was ready. She wanted to revoke it, take it back! Quick! But, like with her unspoken question to Astore, her mouth said nothing. She felt like a soft, violently oppressive wind had caught in her mouth and pushed down her voice.

In the throne room, decisions were binding, and she was not interested in going through the legal process required to undo it, so she let it go. It would be far less effort to just go. Terrific.

The look on Gwenhime’s face was one of doubt, and discontent.

She said, “Send with her an army.”

Everyone’s face turned to her.

“That will not be necessary,” the King said.

Gwenhime broke in the instant his sentence ended, “The political climate is unstable. A war is inevitable. We might as well be on the winning side.”

“No, a war is only inevitable if you bring an army. You are not even to go with her—I know you were intending to place yourself at the head of the force.”

While Gwenhime knew her husband better than he knew himself, the reverse was also true. To save her image, she pressed on regardless.

“No, it is to be a small force of elites.” She echoed words the King himself had coined years before during the Legendary Event. “A body of guards. You wouldn’t send her alone in the power of some Underside woman would you?”

The King frowned, “Who then?”

Gwenhime smiled, baring the teeth of a carnivore. Genetics had ensured that most of them were canines.

“Just cull from the guard and the standing army—oh dear. I suppose not.” This is how they spoke, and often it would grind on Chloe’s nerves; this manner of predicting the other spouse’s response and then replying to it mid-sentence.

“Exactly,” said Rhye, “Everyone who could go is tied up with immigration and settlement. The walls have just opened and they are congested. The army stands at the border, the guard in the cities.”

“Who would have known so many would want to come here?” Said Astore.

“But, you are right. She should not be sent alone. Astore, you are to assemble a small team for this post before Lilllith arrives. Maybe four or five. Find anyone who is willing and suitable.”

Chloe laughed. “A research team!”

“Yes!” The King’s ancient eyes lit up. He joyously mistook her joke as a sign of her enthusiasm. “Yes Chloe, you are to assemble a research team to compliment the trip. You are going on this expedition to study, are you not? Perhaps a historian, and a biologist would be suitable.”

“Ah, of course!” Oh no.

Daniel Triumph.

Table of Contents

P.S. The next chapter will be a little longer… See you on the 19th!

P.P.S. This has been edited 3 times! Wow! That’s a lot more than usual.

The Solune [?]

This got a lot of attention on my secondary blog, so I’m reblogging it to the main one. It’s interesting to see how we something of this nature was recieved. Likely, this will in part make it into a later chapter of The Solune Prince.

Tehufn's Raw Compositions

Chapter [?]

And Jacob dwelt in the land of his father’s sojournings, in the land of Canaan. 2These are the generations of Jacob. Joseph, being seventeen years old, was feeding the flock with his brethren, being still a lad even with the sons of Bilhah, and with the sons of Zilpah, his father’s wives; and Joseph brought evil report of them unto their father. 3Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age; and he made him a coat of many colours. 4And when his brethren saw that their father loved him more than all his brethren, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably unto him. 5And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he told it to his brethren; and they hated him yet the more. 6And he said unto them: ‘Hear, I pray you, this dream which I have dreamed: 7for…

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