Bran Astor

RWC5 - Day Four
A     B Varanius (42.99) 00 08 Avadonialis (45.97+3) Rivalfiume (47.44) 17 18 Overthinkers (51.42+3) Hertfordshire and Jammbo (47.44) 03 07 Cambria (52.50+3) Sekiya (45.97) 22 13 Zhiznovsk (46.16+3) Fujai (51.64) 00 08 United Adaikes (55.71+3) Nieubasria (45.51) 03 05 Teralyon (55.27+3) Arifiyyah (42.70) 08 08 Nouveauterra (44.42+3) Peourouin (49.61) 10 17 Ryxtylopia (57.65+3) Saint Mark (49.20) 03 16 Zoran (51.18+3) Denieria (41.18) 10 15 Nalibia (46.54+3) Ostronia (49.89) 05 17 Dalimbar (57.69+3) Min-Su (43.97) 00 03 Giovanniland (53.48+3) Dalimbar - 57.53 Ryxtylopia - 57.44 United Adaikes - 56.30 Teralyon - 54.72 Giovanniland - 52.98 Cambria - 52.89 Mygrdiyah - 52.41 Zoran - 52.18 Overthinkers - 52.06 Fujai - 51.05 Ostronia - 50.05 Peourouin - 49.82 Sekiya - 48.60 Saint Mark - 48.19 Hertfordshire and Jammbo - 47.05 Rivalfiume - 46.98 Avadonialis - 46.78 Nalibia - 46.54 Kalmach - 46.41 Aftokratoria - 46.36 Nieubasria - 46.06 Fortuna - 45.49 Libterraria - 45.49 Ionia - 44.82 Min-Su - 44.47 Larxia - 44.04 Arifiyyah - 43.64 Zhiznovsk - 43.52 Nouveauterra- 43.48 Apexiala - 42.41 Varanius - 42.18 Cyrylic - 42.05 New Velka - 41.81 Dilber - 40.97 Denieria - 40.85 Einherfell - 37.77

- except from Promise of Youth by Martin Alver

- 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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?
 

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?
 

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?
 

RWC5 - Day One
What! A! Start!
The introduction of new squads have really shaken up this event. Mygrdiyah probably has one of the strongest starts in RWC history, it'll be fascinating to see how they fare. Zoran, H&J, and Giovanniland losing their first games are shockers. Cambria said on this match they need more of a challenge. We shall see what happens on Match Day 2 when the top 4 of rugby are introduced to their pools.
A     B Avadonialis (45.00) 06 15 Cambria (54.46+3) Larxia (40.27) 18 00 Hertfordshire and Jammbo (48.25+3) Varanius (43.82) 05 00 Rivalfiume (46.57+3) Zhiznovsk (45.00) 10 20 Teralyon (51.36+3) New Velkia (45.00) 08 16 Nieubasria (49.54+3) Sekiya (46.11) 13 22 Fujai (47.65+3) Nouveauterra (45.00) 22 06 Zoran (54.33+3) Einherfell (39.98) 00 10 Saint Mark (48.60+3) Arifiyyah (42.62) 07 17 Peourouin (46.65+3) Nalibia (45.00) 10 03 Giovanniland (51.46+3) Mygrdiyah (45.00) 21 00 Min-Su (48.87+3) Denieria (42.95) 07 19 Ostronia (47.74+3)  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Dalimbar - 64.14 United Adaikes - 57.40 Ryxtylopia - 55.45 Cambria - 53.97 Overthinkers - 53.61 Zoran - 51.86 Teralyon - 51.49 Mygrdiyah - 50.06 Nieubasria - 50.03 Nalibia - 48.89 Fujai - 48.74 Saint Mark - 48.28 Ostronia - 48.18 Giovanniland - 47.57 Nouveauterra - 47.47 Peourouin - 47.17 Varanius - 46.97 Kalmach - 46.41 Aftokratoria - 46.36 Hertfordshire and Jammbo - 46.05 Avadonialis - 45.49 Fortuna - 45.49 Libterraria - 45.23 Sekiya - 45.02 Zhiznovsk - 44.87 Ionia - 44.82 New Velka - 44.51 Min-Su - 43.81 Rivalfiume - 43.42 Denieria - 42.51 Larxia - 42.47 Apexiala - 42.41 Cyrylic - 42.05 Arifiyyah - 42.01 Dilber - 40.97 Einherfell - 40.30

Ryxtylopia in the Group Stage; The matchups.
A SPECIAL BROADCAST BY TVNC SPORTS
 
 
[Railo]: We're going? Alright, Good afternoon everybody, you are currently watching Televiza Natxinal di Cuiltura, im your presentor for today Tivan Railo, and while id usually be joined by some coworkers to discuss the state of rugby in ryxtylopia and the world today i find myself alone in this space, since our schedule for those types of broadcast hasn't started yet. Rather, this is a one-time special broadcast by TVNC.
And you may wonder, why alone? Well its beacause we're going to take a brief look into Ryxtylopia's opponents for the group stage of the 5th edition of the Rugby World Cup, being hosted all the way down in Andolia, in Overthinkers to be precise. Our boys arrived there a few days ago, and now they are looking forwards to their first, and probably hardest group stage match, against a familiar opponent, so its time to get the show on the road and see the rivals we'll be facing and how they compare to our team, starting with...
 
The screen transitions into a small overview of each opposing team from now on.
 
ZORAN!
The Sun Hawks of Zoran are a slightly familiar opponent for Ryxtylopia, both teams met in the quarterfinals of the last RWC, where the zoranians; at the time the reigning champions lost to the Pirates on their debut in RWC4, its been a while since that day in Dalimbar, and so far its been the only ocation where Zoran and Ryxtylopia met in a RWC match, with the Pirates taking the victory 31 to 25 points.
The zoranians have already started their campaign in this edition of the tournament, despite being an experienced team, they have started on the wrong foot loosing to Noveauterra 6-22, their playstyle favoring attacking in that match cost them against an inexperienced but solid noveauterran defense, which absorbed the zoranian attack and was able to take the chances they had to counter-attack, resulting in the debutants getting their first victory against a previous RWC champion.
Maybe it was overconfidence that doomed the zoranians, but that's something they probably wont suffer from against Ryxtylopia! As our team is a primarily young team with experience from a previous RWC and a lot of athletically capable players, what to expect for a match?
We could probably witness the zoranians playing more cautiously trying to get the Pirates to overextend themselves on the field, or trying to lure the pirates out, we can probably also expect a LOT of passing in this match, as for chances it will be either a scorefest for both sides, with either side being able to gain an advantage, or it will be a slog throught the field, with frequent possetion changes and few chances. After the loss against Noveauterra the zoranians may play more defensivley than usual, but they still preffer to go on the attack, whilst for this year, Tivarra has changed the tactics as he stated before he intends to play more agressivley.
This is a match we'll be transmitting tomorrow! So hopefully you all get your snacks and enjoy what promises to be a very intense match.
 
SAINT MARK!
The Lions of Saint Mark are a respected, posh team in Aura, Saint Mark being the largest and most populous nation in the continent - its no surprise they are able to produce talent, maybe not the best talent in comparison to some other teams but they have plenty of it, meaning they have a lot of options when it comes to players and a lot of experience to consult. The Pirate and the Lion have never dueled in the RWC, as during Ryxtylopia's debut, Saint Mark got knocked out in the round of 16, never meeting Ryxtylopia in the groups either.
But they have started on the right foot unlike the zoranians, the Markans have won their fist game in not an astonishing but a comfortable fashion against the wavering Einherfell team, which as of now is the worst ranked team in the world, the Lions glided elegantly to victory with the score being 10-0, their favored style of play seems to lean a bit of the defensive edge, maybe leaning towards possetion, but a still balanced style of play as they can attack when you need them to, and they can put up a if not "magnificent" a decent defense against any opponent.
When the Lions encounter the pirates we could expect a slower match than with the zoranians, as they'll probably hold back for the first minutes, playing cautiously, whilst our team might make go for drop-goals if scoring a try proves too hard, both teams have a balanced style of play, so its unlikley we'll see risky plays from either, or any team leaning overly towards attacking or defending.
The date for when we'll transmit this match is TBD, so stay tuned on TVNC for more info.
 
PEOUROUIN!
Making their way all the way from Nur to take part in the tournament is the Peorouin National Team, which sadly for me don't seem to have earned any nicknames yet, like Ryxtylopia they debuted in RWC4 and got 4th in their group, only to be bombed into the ground by the zoranians in the round of 16, Peourouin is a team with slow but steady growth and shouldn't be underestimated. A team which Ryxtylopia hasn't played against in a RWC yet.
They've started the tournament off with a win, 17-7 over Arifiyyah, and their team has shown to be agressive, which could be one of their greatest weaknesses against the stronger teams in the group, since playing agressive is a high-risk style of play with a lot of potential chances to score but also a lot of potential chances to concede, it will all be down to how their defense is and how much possetion they can retain, as they could very easily pressure their opponents continously given enough possetion and physicial ability.
As i said previously being over-agressive might be a weakness, if their tactics do not change, we could expect a game between them and the Pirates being a lot of chances from their team being wasted with a few scored, whilst their defense may struggle against a barrage of pirate counter attacks, depends on how much possetion they're able to keep. Considering their players are still relativley young, and they're another fellow ex-debutant from RWC4 this match will be very interesting to watch.
 
ARIFIYYAH!
The Mighty Orangutan from Arifiyyah a nation known more for football than rugby, having several succesful participations in the soccer tournament, but not being able to replicate that success in rugby, since in Dalimbar they came in dead last in their group, which they did share with the pirates, with the result favoring the nation north of Bilyad as Ryxtylopia won that game 14-0.
They haven't gotten to a good start loosing 7-17 to Peourouin but they seem to be in a process of restructuring to improve their rugby team and perhaps put up a fight for one of the 4 spots to the round of 16. Their team plays semi-agressivley, apparently preffering to be on the offense, very similarly to Zoran and less like Peourouin.
In a game against the Pirates, we could expect them to try to pressure Ryxtylopia with a lot of passing, and moves forward, but this game will be hard for them, and currently they're not in line to make it out of the group, they do have a lot of players with potential that probably hasn't been tapped yet, and if Ryxtylopia can retain possetion and conduct counterattacks, Arifiyyah could be in some serious trouble once they face the Pirates, but like i said its a team that with the necessary reforms could become a decent team in the RWC.
 
EINHERFELL!
Another team without a nickname, also apparently without organization, either that or something else that's causing the team from Einherfell to have a terrible time in recent RWC's, they finished last in their group in Dalimbar, meaning Einherfell and Ryxtylopia have not had any games in a RWC as previously they haven't shared groups and Einherfell haven't advanced to a knockout round in the last RWC.
Their start to this RWC also leaves much to be desired by their fans loosing 0-10 to Saint Mark, and their team doesn't seem to have any coherent playstyle, they variate a lot between games, so its very hard to know their preffered playstyles.
This may be the least interesting of the matches to play and its hard to know what to expect in a game, but it wouldn't be surprising to see the pirates win with a very favorable score, specifically as Einherfell doesn't seem to be a team that likes to pressure their opponents nor defend too much.
 
NOUVEAUTERRA!
A team making their debut in this RWC: The Nouveauterran National Team seems to be a team with a lot of potential, since this is their debut they haven't faced Ryxtylopia yet, but they're already looking like a solid team, with one particularity: a lot of their squad is composed of part-time rugby players, meaning this could be a factor later on to determine their performance.
They achieved victory over the zoranians 22-6, a stunning result that has sent shockwaves through the rugby world and has indicated that very much like in the last edition of the RWC debutants will play an important role, both in the groups and later on. Their playstyle is semi-defensive, and they have proven to be able to carry out effectivley.
Facing the Pirates, a less agressive team than the zoranians, the Nouveauterran team may have some issues when it comes to pushing, and attempting to score, being forced to be more agressive, that could be their undoing if they're not careful, but considering this is their first RWC their team seems to be playing it safe, in a game we could either expect few chances to score from either team, a tie, or Ryxtylopia winning with a good score in favor.
 
The screen transitions back to Railo in the studio.
[Railo]: And that will mark the end of this special broadcast by TVNC! As we just went through we have been able to see the strenghts of each team and how possible games with Ryxtylopia could go, a few teams may give us trouble but as of now the Pirates are one of the auran favorites to win the tournament due to the recent streak from RWC4.
We hope you enjoyed this transmission, don't forget to tune in tomorrow to be able to watch RYXTYLOPIA VS ZORAN! Live from Overthinkers! Only with the best signal here in TVNC, i thank you for your time and i hope all our viewers have a wonderful day, thank you.
 
The camera zooms out from the studio, as the transmission quickly fades to ads for a betting site advertising Ryxtylopia vs Zoran.

NEWS: Local Pub Offers Free Food After Each National Team Victory
By Hokomori City Press Staff | 25 June 1424 (2 hours ago)
In local news, a small, family-owned eatery and pub in Hokomori has announced today that they'll be offering free food to those who visit their restaurant the day after each of the Mygrdiyan national rugby team's victories in the fifth annual World Cup. This year's event, which is being hosted in Overthinkers, is also the first time that Mygrdiyah has made an appearance on the world stage to participate in organized rugby competition. 
As part of this sudden yet rather generous promotional event, the owner of the establishment, Mr. Makoto Miyahara, was quoted as saying, "Many of the players on the Mygrdiyan national team have been quite good to us in the past. We'd like to thank them for their patronage by giving back to our community and encouraging our dear customers to support them whilst they're away on their trip to Overthinkers."
Additionally, the restaurant's staff explained that "There's no need for any apps or rewards program sign-ups. You don't have to give us your email address or even your name. Just come visit us wearing the shirt of your favorite player on our national team and we'll make sure to take care of you. It's the least we can do, after all." 
Suffice it to say, business is expected to boom within the coming week for Mr. Miyahara. Behind the scenes, the family hopes that their gesture of charity will encourage more people to support the Mygrdiyan national team in this year's competition and in the future, as well as support the growth of rugby as a sport within the kingdom. Doors open at 11AM each day and closing time isn't until 1AM, the restaurant's official website proudly proclaims. 
Despite being small and quaint, Mr. Miyahara's restaurant is nonetheless a popular destination for many of Mygrdiyah's native amateurs, professionals, and semi-professional rugby players, who enjoy dining there. In the past, players have even said that the food Mr. Miyahara and his family serves helps them to feel rejuvenated and ready to take on their team's next challenges. Without the local Mygrd cuisine to comfort them, one wonders how the national team's players are handling the pressure that comes with playing away from home. Although, if their debut match against Min-Su is any indication, the team's faithful supporters are reassured in saying that everything will be fine going forward. 
Mygrdiyah's next matchup in the Rugby World Cup V will be on 25 June against Ostronia. Please tune in to SPOT for live coverage of the match!

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?
 

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?
 

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?
 

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?