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#1 Report | QuoteMultilingual 

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Creator of the event: Ryzom Team.
Type of event: OOC events.
Appropriate Levels: All. Some events will need teams.

Dates of the event: From 2021/12/18 to 2022/01/05 inclusive.
Meeting Place: Atysmas village and everywhere on Atys.

Homins concerned: All.
Synopsis: Atysmas is here with its magic atmosphere and events!
To learn more: Detailed program & Fortunate Gubani Wheel


#2 Report | QuoteMultilingual 

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"Grinch or Elf?" rewards

The "Grinch or Elf?" event is over, and the winners are the Elves!

If you participated in this game as a Grinch or as an Elf, do not forget to come and take your rewards!
To do so:
— go to the Silan Arena;
— click on the giant statue in its center to open the game status;
— click on the locks to receive your individual rewards;
— Elves, click on the Snowman to the bottom to receive the final reward.



Merry Atysmas to all!

---

Tamarea
Ryzom Team Manager
(FR / EN / ES)

tamarea@ryzom.com

#3 Report | QuoteMultilingual 

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POEM, by Elke


Market and roads are left deserted,
silently illuminated every house,
pondering I walk the alleys,
everythings looks so festive.

The windows are decorated piously
with colourful toys by homins.
Thousands little homin stand and look,
are so wonderfully excited
and I walk out of the walls
into the open fields,
noble twinkle, holy shiver!

So wide and silent is this world!
Stars twine up high in circles,
from the solitude of the snow
rises like wonderful singing -
oh you gracious Atysmas-time!

#4 Report | QuoteMultilingual 

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CUENTO, por Kyriann

Hubo una vez, en la selva de Zoran, un gibbaï muy viejo. Básicamente, los gibbaïs no son muy hermosos, pero éste se había vuelto demasiado desaliñado. Su pelo había perdido toda su negrura y había perdido tanto que parecía muy flaco y desaliñado. Sus bigotes, que habían sido largos, estaban retorcidos y parecían un sacacorchos. Sus garras estaban rotas y eran incapaces de desgarrar nada. Se pasaba los días agazapado, soñando con el gran guerrero que había sido, acompañando al propio Gibbakya.

Un día el jefe de la tribu se acercó a él:
"Osco, eres una boca inútil, no nos aportas nada más. Te voy a echar de la tribu".
"¿Qué?", rugió Osco, tratando de enderezarse con toda su estatura. ¿Me estás echando? Tu padre ni siquiera era jefe cuando yo ya era el guerrero más consumado de la tribu. Soy yo quien le enseñó todo. Y tú, enano, ¿quieres ahuyentarme?"
"¡Eres viejo y ya nadie te teme!"
"¡Tengo derecho a ser puesto a prueba para demostrar que soy un miembro útil! Así que dame una prueba que sea digna de mí!"
El jefe reflexionó un momento y asintió.
"Esta es tu prueba. Debes traer la cabeza de un pequeño homin, demostrando así que sigues siendo un gran cazador".
"¡Ya está hecho!"
*Se levanta y se golpea el pecho con los puños*

Osco conocía la selva como nadie. Se dirigió sin problemas a un campamento de trykers.
Sin embargo, no se planteó atacar a esos guardias armados. Pero sabía que, alrededor de los campamentos, podía encontrar individuos solitarios. Y, efectivamente, una de estas pequeñas criaturas, con pelaje rubio en la cabeza, se paseaba desarmada. Acercarse a través de un chorro desde detrás de un árbol era una táctica que Osco había utilizado a menudo cuando era joven. Así, los pequeños se agarraban de miedo y él sólo tenía que golpearlos con sus largos brazos para verlos caer, y llevarlos de vuelta al campamento.
Osco se puso en posición esperando que el chico rubio se acercara y en el momento justo, saltó de detrás del árbol mostrando sus garras.
Pero no ocurrió nada de lo esperado. El chico rubio, tras la sorpresa de un instante, comenzó a reírse y esquivó sin problemas los brazos sin fuerza de Osco.
"¡Jajajaja! ¡Pero si eres ridículo! ¿Qué son esas cuatro canas que tienes en la cabeza? Y esos bigotes..."
Osco se sintió humillado en su interior. Volvió a lanzar sus garras hacia delante, pero sin más efecto que el de redoblar la hilaridad del tryker.
Y cuando el tryker empezó a sacar una pica bastante afilada, Osco bajó la cabeza y se alejó rápidamente, perdiendo fácilmente a su perseguidor gracias a su conocimiento de la selva.

El jefe esperaba su regreso:
"¿Y qué pasa con esta cabeza?"
"Sólo has intentado humillarme poniéndome una prueba demasiado fácil para mí. Ve a buscar tu cabeza por tu cuenta y hazme una prueba digna de un gran guerrero en su lugar".
Los ojos del jefe se pusieron aún más rojos mientras se contenía para no gritar al viejo guerrero.
"Muy bien, te daré otra oportunidad. Tu prueba esta vez te llevará a enfrentarte a la magia que duele. Tráenos una cabeza de mago para demostrar tu valía como luchador y como mago".
"¡Ya está hecho!"
*Se levanta y se golpea el pecho con los puños*

Osco recordaba un lugar cerca de una ciudad hominiana donde los portadores de máscaras acudían a meditar al pie de una cascada. Mientras la máscara estuviera meditando, sería fácil acercarse lo suficiente como para congelarlo con un hechizo de frío.
Por caminos que sólo él conocía, llegó cerca de la cascada. Una gran homina azul estaba sentada allí, sola, indefensa. La oportunidad parecía casi demasiado buena.
Elevándose a su máxima altura, lanzó el hechizo de frío. Pero el hechizo pareció rebotar en la alta chica azul, que no se movió. Osco lo intentó una y otra vez, pero sin más éxito que la primera vez. Osco no pudo aguantar más y se dirigió hacia la homina, decidido a tener su cabeza a pesar de todo. Pero un pequeño chasquido de la vegetación le hizo girar la cabeza hacia él.
"¿Eres tú, pequeño gibbaï, quien hace todo este ruido que perturba mi meditación? Ven a sentarte conmigo y no hagas más ruido".
Y sin preocuparse más por él, retomó su postura relajada.
Osco, aturdido, vino a sentarse al pie de la cascada sin entender muy bien por qué obedecía a esa voz tan persuasiva.
El hechizo se levantó sólo cuando sonaron gritos de alarma pidiendo ayuda. Las máscaras llegaban en número y Osco sólo supo huir cuando la Sabia se levantó, empuñando las armas.

El líder del campamento no ocultó su enfado:
"¡Realmente eres un fracaso, Osco! Pero como has sido un pilar de nuestra comunidad, ¡te doy tu última oportunidad! Tráeme la cabeza de Zoran y serás uno de los nuestros para siempre".
"¡Está como hecho!"
*Se levanta y se golpea el pecho con los puños*

Pero, ¿cómo encontrar la cabeza de una entidad que no existe? Osco empezó por vagar sin rumbo durante un tiempo por la selva que amaba. La solución al enigma seguía rechazándose. La prueba era difícil, no podía pedir otra. Si no podía hacerla, tendría que abandonar su tribu. Los suspiros y luego los sollozos surgieron en él mientras la luz del día se volvía más oscura y anaranjada. No sabía nada de las costumbres de los homins y por eso se sorprendió mucho cuando vio aparecer ante él a un hada de Atysmas.
"Soy el hada de Atysmas. Todo el mundo tiene que ser feliz durante esta época festiva. No puedo dejar que solloces así. ¿Qué puedo hacer para que seas feliz?"
"¡No puedes hacer nada por mí! Necesito la cabeza de Zoran, pero Zoran no existe así que no puedo conseguir su cabeza".
Y Osco empezó a gemir de nuevo.
*gimiendo*
"¿La cabeza de Zoran? ¡Pero Zoran está en todas partes! ¡Como no tiene cabeza, lo único que tienes que hacer es crearla tú mismo! Ves que podía hacer algo por ti!"
Y el hada desapareció.
¿Crear la cabeza? A Osco le gustó la idea de inmediato. Conocía suficientes lugares para encontrar corteza, lianas, flores, frutos, todo lo necesario para crear a Zoran en su totalidad.
A lo largo de lo que quedaba de noche, caminó por la selva. Y por la mañana, sostuvo la cabeza de Zoran en sus manos. Parecía un poco desgreñada y con grandes bigotes, pero al mirarla, se podía sentir toda la vitalidad de Zoran en una mañana de primavera, cuando la savia está a punto de estallar.

Cuando Osco presentó la cabeza de Zoran al jefe, éste se inclinó y aceptó a Osco en la tribu para siempre.
Y es algo de esta savia de Zoran lo que se puede encontrar en las joyas de Gibbakya.

Last edited by Maupas (5 months ago) | Reason: FR page layout

#5 Report | QuoteMultilingual 

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NENNORAE, by Lutrykin


Nennorae White

Once upon a time, long before the Karavan founded the Church of Jena and allowed homins to revive, there was a young Matis girl.
Her skin was of a white as immaculate snow which highlighted her fine, flawless features. Her black hair and red lips were the finishing touch to this masterpiece of nature. Her white skin made her nickname Alekin-Nennorae. The Karin was close to its blooming period and all eyes were on Alekin-Nennorae.

But she also had enemies.

Of the other suitors, Lady Chiabre was the most vile and did not back down from anything to become Karae. Lady Chiabre possessed a magic mirror that infallibly pointed to the right person when questioned. Dame Chiabre's greatest pleasure was to look at herself in the mirror every day and ask:

"Mirror, my beautiful mirror, who is the most beautiful?"

For a long time, the mirror had reflected only her face. But now she was seeing there the white and luminous skin of Alekin-Nennorae. Days passed and the mirror always showed the young Matis. Lady Chiabre then secretly summoned the guard she trusted the most. She promised to make her the mistress of the royal spies as soon as she came to power in exchange for Alekin-Nennorae's disappearance.
And soon after, the guard kidnapped Alekin-Nennorae and took her away to where the forest was darkest. The young Matis knew that her last hour had come, but her Matis pride allowed her to look the guard in the face. Under this gaze that stared at her and this beauty so disarming, the guard could not go all the way.
Pointing to the heart of the forest, she told her:

"Run away! In that direction. There are rumors of other homins to be found there. Go and never come back."


Alekin-Nennorae began to walk, going deeper and deeper into the dark forest. After a few days of walking, she found a small hut where everything was much smaller than what she knew. On a small table, there were seven small plates with seven small glasses and seven small pieces of cutlery. Alekin-Nennorae was very hungry. She took a bite from each plate and drank a sip from each glass. Then she lay down in one of the seven small hammocks and fell asleep.
In the evening, the inhabitants of the house returned: seven funny small people who spent their days drilling amber and other materials. What was their surprise when they saw that someone had eaten their food and drunk their byrh. Squabbles began to break out, but the smallest one raised his voice, reminding them of one of the principles that guided their lives: sharing. And everyone was content with their share.
Then it was time to go to bed… The astonishment they felt when they saw Alekin-Nennorae is hard to describe. They had never seen a homina with such white a skin, such black a hair and such red lips. They stood there, none of them daring to approach her for fear of waking her up with a start. So when Alekin-Nennorae opened her eyes shortly thereafter to see these small homins, she wondered whether she was dreaming. Their questions made her nervous for a while, but the cheerfulness and good humor of her hosts soon charmed the fugitive. Each one in turn told his story and she learned that these small homins were Trykers and that they lived in a lake region which they liked to explore in search of new materials to drill allowing them to build new objects.

Alekin-Nennorae had found a new home.

Her Matis pride didn't hold her back from learning how to run their home, and in the evenings, when the Trykers came home, they all sat around the fire, telling stories while drinking a little beer. Life was good. But, far from home, when Lady Chiabre asked the mirror again who was the most beautiful, the mirror replied:

"Lady Chiabre, you are the most beautiful here, but Alekin-Nennorae who lives beyond the forest, among the Trykers, is a thousand times more beautiful than you."


The lady's face contorted in anger and she devised a new plan to kill Alekin-Nennorae. Since she couldn't trust anyone, she decided to do it herself. As a true Matis, she knew about poisons, how to prepare them and how to use them. So, on salins so red that no one could resist them, she applied the most virulent poison she knew. Then, disguised as a hawker, she set out for Trykoth through the deep forest.

Alekin-Nennorae saw the hawker coming towards her without suspicion and offered her hospitality without recognizing her rival under the disguise. And she gratefully took the salins that reminded her of her happy childhood. But when she bit into them, her seed of life went out and she fell dead. Lady Chiabre savored her triumph, and when she looked into her mirror again in the evening, it was her own reflection that she could again admire at length. The Trykers' sadness at finding the beautiful homina lifeless was immense, but despite all their ingenuity, they could not determine the cause of her death. Since Alekin-Nennorae's beauty was enduring even in death, they placed her in an amber coffin and laid it on a hill in the light of the stars, watched over by one of them.

It seemed as if she was only sleeping.

In the meantime, the Karin saw a wedding with Lady Chiabre coming closer and closer, and this pushed him to extend his mektoub walks more and more, in the hope of finding the one who had stolen his heart. One evening, when he had gone deep into the forest, he saw a glimmer trembling in the starlight on a hill in the distance.
Alekin-Nennorae was there, lying in her amber coffin, more beautiful than ever. A small homin seemed to be watching over her, ready to defend her against everything and everyone. The Karin raised his hand as a sign of peace:

"I come in peace. I have searched for Alekin-Nennorae for so long. Can you tell me what happened?"

The tryker recounted the joy of being with her and the pain of losing her.

"My love for her will be stronger than death. Jena will know how to bring us together."

His love was pure and his pain immense. Then someone came along and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Your sorrow is great, as is the beauty of this hominid. Do you swear to cherish her?"
"Yes! Oh yes, I will. I swear to protect her and never let her lack anything."
"So… So be it!"


A hand rose above the amber coffin for a few seconds, then lowered and disappeared.
Alekin-Nennorae opened her eyes and smiled at the Karin.
And when Lady Chiabre that night asked the mirror who was the most beautiful, it replied:

"Alekin-Nennorae is a thousand times more beautiful than you and forever."

A presence seemed to be overlaid on the image of Alekin-Nennorae before the mirror exploded into a thousand pieces.
The karin married Alekin-Nennorae under the fireworks of the Trykers and they were happy until Jena called them back to Her.

Last edited by Maupas (5 months ago) | Reason: EN typo

#6 Report | QuoteMultilingual 

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GRATITUDE, by Lylanea

Lylanea bows briefly to the guests gathered for the Tales of Atysmas Vigil before speaking.

"As we do every year, we have gathered here to celebrate the Feast of Blessings. But what does that mean? What does the Feast of Blessings mean to us homins?"

Lylanea smiles.

"Tradition says it is a time to remember the dark years our parents and grandparents spent in exile… that many homins still spend in exile.
Some spent this time in safe caves deep in the Bark. Others, like all those who are joining us nowadays, have spent their time fleeing far and wide on the face of the Great Plant. Surviving only on their own strength, courage and intelligence, until they met those who showed them the way to get here. Many of us have found a place here in the Four Lands. Some are still searching for that place. But everyone will eventually find their place.
For me personally, the Feast of Blessings is a time of reflection, where I measure how grateful I can be to have found all this. These countries, these homins. Those who once welcomed me and with whom I spent many happy years. Until I left it. Those who are no longer with us and those who still walk the paths of the Bark."

Lylanea looks a little sad but soon smiles again and resumes:

"Those homins who supported me during my voluntary exile and showed me new ways. But, also, those who welcomed me back here. Who took the time to know me and let me know them. Those who accept me with all my faults, those who grant me their friendship and those whom I have learned to love. Some less, some more (wink to Wixarika). I am grateful to all of them."

After a short pause, Lylanea resumes:

"Before we continue our vigil, I would like to ask you: what are you thankful for today?
– For me, it is to be with you to enjoy these stories! answers Kyriann.
– Of the homins and homines who helped me, says Ogmios.
– To be able to fill up with stories, one more evening! exclaims Wieny.
– From the kindness that flows from this planet and especially from what I have learned from some homins, adds Wixarika.
– Oh yes! Listening and sharing stories, sometimes funny, sometimes full of teaching, Lutrykin adds.
– The joy of having been allowed to roam this wonderful rootball for many years, Ryzyinshi says with a broad smile.
– I am grateful for the flame that burns in the fireplace!" concludes Ledania.
– Well, that should be enough…. Thank you for those words."

Lylanea finally gives her own feeling:

"I myself am grateful for what I have been able to learn from you and what I will learn from you again.
I am grateful for the friendship and affection I receive from you every time we meet.
I am grateful for all those I have had the opportunity to fight alongside against our common enemy.
I am grateful for every spell, every bandage, every flower and every potion that helped me get back on my feet.
I am thankful for every spell and every sword stroke that took down an enemy and so saved me from pain and death.
I am grateful to the homins of the Four Lands for defending them, keeping them alive and allowing us to exist here."

A time….

"Without you, the Four Lands would not exist. A thousand times and with all my heart: thank you."

Lylanea bows respectfully.

#7 Report | QuoteMultilingual 

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MELTING, by Wieny

We were warming ourselves around a campfire when Gyaz'Alt the seer came to sit beside us.
As usual, he had abused the psykopla roots, and after some time spent listening to our stories, he began to tell one of his visions.
A story that may or may not be true…. It all depends on how much you trust his prophecies.
Here is what he told us that night.

"At that time, a king with a heart of ice reigns over the Matis.
He is so cold that the atmosphere at court is polar.
And his subjects show a chill to the idea of laughing and living.
The queen despairs of this wintry husband.
She brings in jugglers, storytellers and entertainers to warm up the atmosphere.
But nothing works, there is never the slightest smile on the icy lips of her royal husband.
Worse, he took the habit of having the heads of those who tried to cheer him up cut off.
And soon, only a lonesome wind blows in the deserted palace.
Nothing serious, because at that time as now, the Karavan brings the beheaded back.
But who enjoys being thanked in this way?
Then arrives from the desert an ardent fyros storyteller.
His gait is flamboyant, his eyes burning with a laughing flame.
Nothing can temper his enthusiasm for storytelling at the royal table!
He begins a first story, in a high color style.
And miracle….
The king does not cut his head off.
The queen and the courtiers beckon him to continue!
So he tales, again and again, until the day breaks.
Night after night, in front of the king who is slowly thawing, he tales.
He ignites, sets ablaze, and with all his bubbling passion.
One can see the Karan gradually light up.
In the Kingdom everyone lives again.
They sing, they dance, they shout: he has smiled!
The King's heart is no longer frozen, the Fyros storyteller has warmed it up."

At this point in the story, Gyaz'Alt fell silent, as if everything had been said.
I pointed out to him that his visions of the future lacked a punchline to claim to be a tale or chronicle.
You don't need to see the future to find a Zoraï parable…
He shook his mask, as if sorry, and answered me:

"What is the point of telling the story of the Queen's burning anger when she understood the affair?
What is the point of telling the story of the Karan and his storyteller's escape far from the sad throne of a dying kingdom and a loveless couple?
All that matters, as in any good story, is everything that is left untold.
And for your Atysmas, that's enough: all ends well, and spring returns!"

Last edited by Maupas (4 months ago)

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