Bran Astor

Cambria's Queen by Karl Kask In Cambrian vales where ancient mountains rise, And ocean’s roar meets with the morning’s sighs, A realm exists where freedom’s spirit gleams, And sovereign grace in people’s hearts it dreams. No tyrant’s rod, no despot’s iron hand, But equal rights across a bounteous land. A queen there reigns, whose will is nature’s force, Whose love, a sunbeam on life’s darkened course. Her wrath, a tempest, shakes the earth and sea, Yet tender mercies flow from her decree. For in her heart, a boundless ocean swells, Of empathy for all who hear her bells. A democracy, where voices find their way, And common good illuminates the day. No caste, no creed, to dim the human spark, But unity in purpose, bright and dark. Oh, Cambria's Queen, whose wisdom guides the land, A beacon shining on a distant strand. May freedom’s flame forever brightly burn, And love and justice to all hearts return. Oh, Youth: A Eulogy by Karl Kask Oh, Youth, thou fleeting dream of morning light, When hope's young bird sings on the soul's bright tree, Ere shadows lengthen with the waning night, Or life's tumultuous waves engulf the free. Thy laughter, like a rippling, crystal stream, Danced through the meadows of our careless years; Thy spirit, buoyant as a morning dream, Soared, unencumbered by the weight of fears. But now, alas, the golden hours are fled, And age's frost has crept upon my brow; My comrades, like autumnal leaves, are shed, And shadows lengthen where the sun shone low. The world, once fresh and fair, is grown austere, And toil's relentless hand has marked my frame; No more the heart with youthful joy can cheer, But mourns the glories of that vanished flame.

Echoes in the Hall of Unrequited Love By Ivar Taul In halls of twilight, where shadows reside, A specter I wander, by love denied. My form, a wisp in this manor of gloom, Yet once I dreamt of a brighter room. She walks these halls, a vision divine, Her eyes like sapphires, a beauty that's mine To gaze upon, a goddess reborn, Fairest of Bathsheba, surpassing Helen's morn. Her laughter rings, a melody so sweet, Her every virtue, a perfect feat. A flawless wife, a bride beyond compare, A crown of roses in her golden hair. With whispered sonnets, and gifts I beseech, My spectral presence, a love out of reach. My words they fade, unheard in the air, My phantom touch met with an empty chair. She turns away, a stranger's cold disdain, No recognition, no whisper of my pain. Is this my fate, to haunt this earthly hold, A lovelorn ghost, forever left untold? Ah, if this heart, though silent, still could beat, If mortal breath allowed these lips to speak, Perhaps then, love, your judgement might relent, And grant this ghost a moment, heaven-sent. But death's cold hand holds tight, a cruel decree, This spectral form, all that's left of me. A choice remains, beneath the moonlit sky, To seek the solace where the spirits lie. The beckoning light, a pathway to peace, But oh, the thought of love's sweet, sweet release! One final look upon your face so fair, A phantom's love, a burden I must bear. Farewell, dear heart, though hope has flown away, Better a ghost in love, than dust in endless day. In spectral halls, I'll linger, ever near, A constant echo, a love that's ever clear.

A Mother and Wife By Ivar Taul In moonlit whispers, draped in shadows deep, A mother mourns, where regret bids her weep. A chilling wind sighs through the barren tree, A constant echo of what used to be. He was a stalwart, strong and ever true, A love that promised skies of endless blue. But foolish pride, a siren's tempting song, Lured me to darkness, where I now belong. They called him dull, his ways devoid of spark, But love's true flame burns steady in the dark. My heart, a moth, was drawn to fleeting light, Now lost in shadows, withering in night. The blame, it settles, heavy as a shroud, Not on my choices, but his voice too loud. He held me captive, stifled all my dreams, A gilded cage, so love it never seems. My children, blessed with innocence so bright, Reflect a past I cast into the night. Perhaps within their eyes, his shadow sleeps, A constant reminder where true passion weeps. The moon descends, a cruel and watchful eye, As vengeance stirs, a chilling lullaby. Their happiness, a mockery of mine, A twisted love, a bond that will entwine. Let whispers turn to nightmares, soft and sly, Let doubt take root, where trusting dreams once lie. Their love, once pure, will wither in my wake, A twisted echo for the choice I make. Beware, my darlings, love's a fickle friend, A cruel deceiver with a bitter end. In shadows I will lurk, a spider black, And claim the hearts I foolishly turned back.

The Wendigo by Ivar Taul In chambers draped with guilt's oppressive pall, Where stolen joys like phantoms come and fall, I sit, a wretch by specters dire possessed, Love's ghosts, a chilling, vengeful, spectral guest. She came the first, with eyes of cerulean blue, A memory of passion, fierce and true. Her touch, once fire, now sent a glacial shock, Her voice, a whisper, "Love, upon this rock..." Then came the next, with raven tresses unbound, A storm of passion on forbidden ground. Her kiss, once warmth, now left my soul bereft, Her sigh, a whisper, "Love, forever kept..." With each pale shade, a lover from the past, The embers of desire diminish fast. Their hollow eyes, with sorrow filled and keen, Reflect the wasteland where my heart has been. No warmth remains, no embers dare to glow, Just arctic silence in this spectral show. They strip me bare, each phantom, cold and white, Leaving a husk where passion burned so bright. Oh, cursed be stolen love, a fleeting dream, For vengeance walks in shadows, whispers scream. A frozen heart, a monument to sin, This is the price for pleasures I let win. The final shade approaches, veiled in mist, A lover's face, forever unkissed. My own reflection, with eyes of hollow blight, A chilling whisper, "Lost in endless night."

- except from Promise of Youth by Martin Alver

September 12, 1282 My Dearest Ana,  The lighthouse at Suukuna stands, a lonely sentinel against the crashing waves of the Keigan Sea. The air is thick with the scent of salt and seaweed, a constant, almost cloying, perfume. It was a sight that thrilled me to the bone at first, a testament to the responsibility entrusted upon me as keeper. But even the wildest landscapes lose their charm when viewed alone for too long.  The nights are the worst, Ana. The wind howls like a banshee, a keening that chills me to the very marrow. Sometimes, I hear voices on it, soft whispers in an unknown tongue, urging me to join them in the churning sea below. The long, solitary hours play tricks on the mind. Shadows dance on the walls, grotesque figures born of flickering candlelight and a heart that aches for your touch.  Last night, I could have sworn I heard the mournful tolling of bells, a ghostly echo that wrapped around the lighthouse like a spectral shroud. Perhaps it's the loneliness, or maybe this place holds secrets deeper and older than the stones it's built upon. All I know is that thoughts of our walks along the sun-drenched beach and the laughter that echoed in the marketplace feel like a distant dream.  Oh, Ana, how I long for the day I can return to you, a weathered warrior from a solitary battle against the elements. How I dream of holding you close, the warmth of your body a shield against the creeping chill that seems to have settled here. But duty calls, and honor demands I remain.  Know this, my love: Every night, as I climb the winding stairs to ignite the lamp, it is your face I see in the beam's reflection, a beacon guiding weary sailors home. You are my anchor in this storm-tossed sea of isolation.  Hold fast, my dearest Ana. Soon, I will return, and together we will face whatever life may bring.  With all my love,  Tomas

O Queen of the Dawn by Karl Kallaste O Queen of the Dawn, with eyes the color of hope, Hear the drums of triumph, a weary warrior's scope. This land breathes free, its chains lie shattered and rust, We bathed the fields red and the tyrant's grip turned to dust.  Long were the nights, companion to our creeping despair, Hunger gnawed, battles raged, etched on each face a prayer. Brothers fell 'neath the sun, their whispers on the cold breeze, But freedom's fire, my Queen, held us from bending knees.  We are your spears, the answer to every plea, From the babe in the cradle, the sailor bent by the sea. We bled for their future, a tapestry woven with pain, But a song of defiance, a chorus that washed away the stain.  Now, victory's light paints the clouds in hues of delight, The people, they rise, their faces turned to the bright. They sing of our courage, etch legends in every town, We, the nameless, the faceless, heroes with freedom's crown.  My Queen, your name a solace, a whisper on parched lips, Your image, a beacon through battles, on banners and ships. This land, it is yours, a gift so dearly won, And though my strength wanes, my joyful journey just begun.  (His voice falters, a final breath escapes his lips)  Hold fast to the dawn, my Queen, where the future never clips…  (His hand reaches out, a faint smile)  …Love, and freedom… forever on our lips.

This House That Held A Universe by Kristiina Raadik This house that held a universe – now echoes sigh alone – Where laughter bloomed, a chilling wind now makes a mournful moan. The chairs that cradled company, stand stark, with vacant eyes, And memories, specters pale, through drafty hallways rise. I walk a stranger in this room, where once I danced with glee, Pale reflection in a looking glass, a face I scarcely see. The Love that filled this hallowed space, a phantom, cold and thin, Like frost upon a windowpane, where warmth once held within. Do they who left, still hold me dear, in whispers, soft and low? Or am I but a faded dream, the one they used to know? Perhaps their hearts hold other suns, and mine, a dying star, Lost in the vast, indifferent dark, unseen, however far. Is even memory a curse, this constant, gnawing ache? Of fireside tales and gentle hands, a love I cannot take With me, into this chilling night, where shadows twist and turn, And whispers mock, "Does anyone still love what you've become?" Can embers, buried deep within, be coaxed to life anew? Can love, once lost, rise from the ash, bathed in a gentle dew? Or am I doomed to wander here, a ghost in shades of gray, Forever lost within this house, where love has gone away? A Jury In The Corner Hangs by Kristiina Raadik A jury in the corner hangs, of silken thread and gleam, Eight watchful eyes, a silver stare, upon my being beam. No gavel falls, no verdict rings, yet dread begins to creep, As though this silent, splindly judge, my very soul doth keep. It spins its web of woven thought, where conscience hangs on high, And each slow turn, a pondering, on virtues left to die. Did honesty hold fast and true, within this fragile breast? Or did deceit, a sly serpent, find welcome as its guest? Compassion's thread, is it worn thin, by trials yet unseen? Or woven strong, a sheltering cloak, where kindness intervenes? The verdict hangs, unspoken still, a weight upon my mind, For terror grows with every tick, the clock of judgment kind. Perhaps it seeks a hidden flaw, a chink in virtue's wall, A whispered sin, a shadowed thought, for which I soon shall fall. But oh, the silence amplifies, the dread that fills the air, Awaiting pronouncement, swift or slow, to find me wanting there. I long for accusation's sting, for anger, hot and bright, Than this unending, silent stare, that chills me through the night. For is there not more solace found, in fury's righteous flame, Than waiting for a verdict hushed, and bearing endless shame?

The Final Verse By Jaan Kapp With dawn's first blush, I greet the restless sea, A canvas churned with foam, a symphony Of crashing waves that lick the jagged shore. These weathered cliffs, where salty winds implore, Have seen a lifetime pass, a heart grow old, Yet hold a beauty that can still unfold. Here, where the gulls cry out in morning's light, I chase the muse, a phantom taking flight. My inkwell's dry, the fire within wanes, Each verse a sigh, a whisper of past pains. Love's melody, a songbird long since flown, Leaves echoes in this heart, now mostly stone. Noon finds me scaling heights where eagles soar, Among the peaks, where clouds like giants pour. The sun, a crown upon the mountain's brow, Casts long, stark shadows on the world below. A lifetime's climb, a summit hard-won prize, But from this height, where memory resides, I see the tapestry of years unfold, The triumphs sung, the stories yet untold. The valleys bloom, where youthful fancies played, Now tinged with amber, where pleasant dreams have stayed. And in the distance, faintly, I recall, A face, a touch, a love that conquered all. Dusk paints the south in hues of fading fire, Where swaying grasses whisper on the pyre Of day's demise. A lone wolf lifts his head, A mournful cry that echoes 'til it's dead. The warmth of twilight soothes my weary bones, A quiet peace upon these golden tones. Life's final journey, to these lands I've come, To seek a spark, to chase a phantom's hum. Though beauty lingers, and the world inspires, The well of verse runs dry, consumed by fires Of time's own making. In this fading light, I close my eyes, and greet the coming night.

Team Information Style mod: 3.8 Home stadium: Ellestede Garden, cap. 18,500 Manager: TC Danen Coaches: Kees Gordon, Wolf Bruijs Roster Name Position Age Elliot Coetzee Hooker 30 Ryan Shepherd Hooker 30 David Owain Hooker 25 Bart Plane Hooker 21 Olive John Prop 27 Wyn Metcher Prop 28 Kellen Brown Prop 32 Rhys Sears-Duru Prop 32 Dillon Kilifi Prop 29 John Lewis Prop 32 Idris Alan Lock 33 Jeremy Peters Lock 33 Adam Pelser Lock 29 Taylor Beard Lock 28 Cory Tucker Lock 33 Trent Hunsaker Lock 26 Gavin Bashir Flanker 24 Ross Penny Flanker 30 Harry Moriarty Flanker 25 Jordy Weyland Flanker 25 Eric Shingler Number 8 35 Justin Hattingh Number 8 27 Scott Williams Scrum-half 34 Rhys Cina Scrum-half 30 Wolf Carroll Fly-half 24 Jarrod Dean Fly-half 28 Dirk Chalmot Fly-half 24 George Parkes Center 29 Joey Tompkins Center 27 Kyle Laughlin Center 26 Hadleigh Neal Center 29 Siti Adams Wing 28 Josh Brennan Wing 26 Caleb Darlington Wing 22 Brock Adams Wing 31 Harry Staller Wing 24 Liam Turner Fullback 32 Jade Van Oord Fullback 23 Styles & Permissions Style modifier 3.8 Home stadium Ellestede Garden (RP) Choose my try scorers Yes (RP) Choose my kicker Yes (RP) RP injuries No No godmodding

RP Admin Hat - There is a prohibition on IC nukes. Loremasters will review the post and reach out to you.

The Kingdom of Cambria: Acknowledges the declaration of independence made by the region of Zanna on 2 January, 1424. Reaffirms its unwavering commitment to the principle of self-determination for all peoples. Recognizes the right of the Zannese people to determine their own future and establish their own sovereign state. Notes the historical grievances and ongoing challenges faced by the Zannese people, while also acknowledging the complex past between Zanna and the region of Graznia. Expresses its sincere hope for a peaceful resolution to any outstanding disputes between Zanna and its neighbors, and encourages all parties to engage in constructive dialogue and diplomacy. Declares its intention to establish formal diplomatic relations with the independent Zanna, and to work together to build a relationship based on mutual respect, cooperation, and the promotion of shared values. Offers its assistance to Zanna in its transition to independence, and stands ready to provide support in areas such as governance, infrastructure development, and economic growth. Calls upon the international community to respect the right of Zanna to self-determination, and to support its peaceful integration into the global community.

Nation name: Cambria Nation trigram: KCM Players: 1. Tilt Wagner 2. Triin Wagner 3. Darius Masalin 4. Matti Armstrong 5. Kaisa Haidak 6. Irina Nilsson