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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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TALE, by Kyriann

Once upon a time in the jungle of Zoran, there was a very very old gibbai. Basically, gibbais are not very beautiful but this one had become very shabby. His hair had lost all its blackness and he had lost so much of it that he looked very skinny and disheveled. His whiskers, which had been long, were twisted and looked like a corkscrew. His claws were all broken and unable to tear anything. He spent his days crouching, dreaming about the great warrior he had been, accompanying Gibbakya himself.

One day the chief of the tribe came to him:
"Osco, you are a useless mouth, you do not bring us anything more. I'm kicking you out of the tribe!"
"What?" roared Osco, trying to straighten up with all his height. Are you chasing me away? Your father wasn't even a chief when I was already the most accomplished warrior in the tribe. I am the one who taught him everything. And you, you little runt, you want to chase me away?"
"You are old and no one fears you anymore!"
"I have the right to be put to the test to prove that I am a useful member! So give me a test that is worthy of me!"
The chief pondered for a moment and nodded.
"Here is your test. You must bring back the head of a small homin, thus proving that you are still a great hunter."
"It's as good as done!"
*stands up and beats his chest with fists*

Osco knew the jungle like none. He made his way without any trouble to a tryker camp.
However, no question of attacking these armed guards. But he knew that, around the camps, he could find lonesome individuals. And indeed one of these small creatures, wearing blond fur on head, was walking around unarmed. To approach through spurt from behind a tree was a tactic Osco had often used when he was young. The li'l ones would then be seized with fear and he would just have to knock them out with his long arms to see them fall, and bring them back to camp.
Osco got into position waiting for the blond boy to get closer and at the right moment, he jumped out from behind the tree showing his claws.
But nothing happened as expected. The blond boy, after a time of surprise, started laughing and dodged without problem the strengthless arms of Osco.
"Ahahaha! But you are ridiculous! What are those four gray hairs on your head? And those whiskers…."
Osco was humiliated deep inside. He threw his claws forward again, but with no more effect than to redouble the tryker's hilarity.
And when the tryker started to pull out quite sharp a pike, Osco lowered his head and moved away quickly, easily losing his pursuer thanks to his knowledge of the jungle.

The chief was waiting for his return:
"So, what about this head?"
"You only tried to humiliate me by giving me a test too easy for me. Go get your head by yourself and give me a test worthy of a great warrior instead."
The chief's eyes turned even redder as he held back from yelling at the old warrior.
"Very well, I will give you another chance. Your trial this time will lead you to face the magic that hurts. Bring us a magician's head to prove your worth as a fighter and a magician."
"It's as good as done!"
*stands up and beats his chest with fists*

Osco remembered a place near a homin city where mask wearers came to meditate at the foot of a waterfall. While the mask was meditating, it would be easy to get close enough to freeze him with a cold spell.
Through paths that only he knew, he arrived near the waterfall. A large blue homina was sitting there, alone, defenseless. The opportunity seemed almost too good.
Rising to his full height, he let the cold spell go. But the spell seemed to ricochet off the tall blue girl, who did not move. Osco tried again and again, but with no more success than the first time. Osco couldn't take it anymore and moved towards the homina, determined to have her head despite everything. But a small crack of vegetation made her turn her head towards him.
"Is it you, little gibbai, who is making all this noise that disturbs my meditation? Come and sit with me and don't make any more noise!"
And without worrying about him any more, she resumed her relaxed posture.
Osco, stunned, came to sit at the foot of the waterfall without really understanding why he was obeying this so persuasive voice.
The spell was lifted only when cries of alarm rang out calling for help. Masks were arriving in numbers and Osco only knew to run away as the Sage stood up, holding the weapons.

The camp leader did not hide his anger:
"You are really a failure, Osco! But since you have been a pillar of our community, I'm giving you your last chance! Bring me Zoran's head and you will be one of us forever."
"It's as good as done!"
*stands up and beats his chest with fists*

But how do you find the head of an entity that doesn't exist? Osco began by wandering aimlessly for a while in the jungle he loved. The solution to the riddle still refused him. The test was difficult, he could not ask for another one. If he couldn't do it, he would have to leave his tribe. Sighs and then sobs rose in him as the daylight grew darker and orange. He knew nothing of homin customs and was therefore very surprised when he saw an Atysmas fairy appear before him.
"I am the fairy of Atysmas. Everyone have to be happy during this festive time. I can't let you sob like that. What can I do to make you happy?"
"You can't do anything for me! I need Zoran's head, but Zoran doesn't exist so I can't get his head."
And Osco started to moan again.
*whimpers*

"Zoran's head? But Zoran is everywhere! Since he doesn't have a head, all you have to do is create it yourself! You see that I could do something for you!"
And the fairy vanished.
Making the head? Osco liked the idea at once. He knew enough places to find bark, vines, flowers, fruits, everything needed to create Zoran in full.
All along that remained of the night, he walked through the jungle. And in the morning, he held Zoran's head in his hands. Oh, it looked a little shaggy and had big whiskers, but looking at it, you could feel all the vitality of Zoran on a spring morning when the sap is about to burst.

When Osco presented Zoran's head to the chief, this one bowed and accepted Osco into the tribe forever.
And it is some of this Zoran's sap that you can find on the Gibbakya jewelry.

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

#5 Report | QuoteMultilingual 

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NENNORAE, von Lutrykin


Es war einmal, lange bevor der Karavan die Kirche von Jena gründete und den Homins das Wiederaufleben ermöglichte, eine junge Matis. Ihre Haut war schneeweiß und betonte ihre feinen, makellosen Gesichtszüge. Ihr schwarzes Haar und ihre roten Lippen vervollständigten dieses Meisterwerk der Natur. Ihre weiße Haut hatte ihr den Spitznamen Alekin-Nennorae eingebracht. Die Karin stand nun kurz vor ihrer Blütezeit und alle Augen waren auf Alekin-Nennorae gerichtet.

Aber sie hatte auch Feinde.

Von den anderen Bewerberinnen war Dame Chiabre die niederträchtigste, die vor nichts zurückschreckte, um Karae zu werden. Dame Chiabre besaß einen magischen Spiegel, der auf Fragen immer den richtigen Homin anzeigte. Dame Chiabres größtes Vergnügen war es, jeden Tag in den Spiegel zu schauen und ihn zu fragen:

"Spieglein, Spieglein an der Wand, wer ist die Schönste?"

Lange Zeit hatte der Spiegel nur ihr Gesicht widergespiegelt. Aber jetzt sah sie die strahlend weiße Haut von Alekin-Nennorae erscheinen. Die Tage vergingen und immer noch zeigte der Spiegel die junge Matisse. Dame Chiabre ließ heimlich die Wache rufen, der sie am meisten vertraute. Sie versprach ihr, sie nach ihrer Machtübernahme zur Meisterin der königlichen Spione zu machen, wenn sie im Gegenzug Alekin-Nennorae verschwinden ließe. Und kurz darauf entführte die Gardistin Alekin-Nennorae und brachte sie weit weg, dorthin, wo der Wald am dunkelsten war. Die junge Matisse begriff, dass ihre letzte Stunde geschlagen hatte, doch ihr Matis-Stolz erlaubte es ihr, der Wache ins Gesicht zu sehen. Unter diesem Blick, der sie anstarrte, und dieser so entwaffnenden Schönheit konnte die Wache nicht bis zum Ende gehen. Sie deutete auf das Herz des Waldes und sagte zu Nennorae:

"Lauf weit weg! In diese Richtung. Es gibt Gerüchte, dass dort andere Homins zu finden sind. Geh weg und komm nie wieder zurück."


Alekin-Nennorae begann zu wandern und drang immer tiefer in den dunklen Wald ein. Nach ein paar Tagen Wanderung fand sie eine kleine Hütte, in der alles viel kleiner war als das, was sie kannte. Auf einem kleinen Tisch standen sieben kleine Teller mit sieben kleinen Gläsern und sieben kleinen Bestecken. Alekin-Nennorae war sehr hungrig. Sie probierte einen Bissen von jedem Teller und trank einen Schluck aus jedem Glas. Dann legte sie sich in eine der sieben kleinen Hängematten und schlief ein. Am Abend kehrten die Bewohner des Hauses zurück: sieben lustige kleine Leute, die den ganzen Tag nach Bernstein und anderen Materialien bohrten. Sie staunten nicht schlecht, als sie sahen, dass jemand ihr Essen gegessen und ihren Byrh getrunken hatte. Es kam zu Streitereien, doch der Kleinste erhob seine Stimme und erinnerte sie an eines der Prinzipien, die ihr Leben bestimmten: das Teilen. Und jeder gab sich mit seinem Anteil zufrieden. Dann war es Zeit fürs Bett ... Die Verblüffung, die sie beim Anblick von Alekin-Nennorae ergriff, ist schwer zu beschreiben. Nie zuvor hatten sie eine Homina mit so weißer Haut, so schwarzem Haar und so roten Lippen gesehen. Sie standen einfach nur da, keiner wagte es, sich zu nähern, aus Angst, sie könnte erschreckt aufwachen. Als Alekin-Nennorae kurz darauf ihre Augen öffnete und die kleinen Homins sah, fragte sie sich, ob sie träumte. Ihre Fragen drängten sie einen Moment lang, doch der Schwung und die gute Laune ihrer Gastgeber bezauberten die Flüchtige bald. Jeder erzählte seine Geschichte und sie erfuhr, dass die kleinen Homins Tryker waren und in einer Seenlandschaft lebten, die sie gerne auf der Suche nach neuen Materialien für den Bau neuer Gegenstände erkundeten.

Alekin-Nennorae hatte ein neues Zuhause gefunden.

Ihr Stolz als Matisse hielt sie nicht davon ab, zu lernen, wie man ihr Haus führt, und am Abend, wenn die Tryker nach Hause kamen, saßen sie alle um das Feuer herum, erzählten sich Geschichten und tranken dabei ein wenig Byrh. Das Leben war schön. Doch weit gefehlt: Als Dame Chiabre den Spiegel erneut fragte, wer die Schönste sei, antwortete dieser:

"Dame Chiabre, Sie sind hier die Schönste, aber Alekin-Nennorae, die jenseits des Waldes bei den Trykern lebt, ist tausendmal schöner als Sie."

Das Gesicht der Dame verzerrte sich vor Zorn und sie schmiedete einen neuen Plan, um Alekin-Nennorae zu töten. Da sie niemandem trauen konnte, beschloss sie, selbst zu handeln. Als gute Matisse wusste sie, welche Gifte es gab, wie man sie zubereitete und wie man sie anwendete. Auf die Salinen, die so rot waren, dass niemand ihnen widerstehen konnte, brachte sie das stärkste Gift auf, das sie kannte. Dann verkleidete sie sich als Hausierer und machte sich auf den Weg durch den tiefen Wald nach Trykoth.

Alekin-Nennorae sah die Hausiererin ohne Argwohn auf sich zukommen und bot ihr ihre Gastfreundschaft an, ohne ihre Rivalin unter der Verkleidung zu erkennen. Und ohne Hintergedanken nahm sie dankbar die Salinen, die sie an ihre glückliche Kindheit erinnerten. Doch als sie hineinbiss, erlosch ihre Lebenssaat und sie fiel tot um. Dame Chiabre genoss ihren Triumph und als sie am Abend erneut ihren Spiegel befragte, war es ihr eigenes Spiegelbild, das sie wieder lange bewundern konnte. Die Tryker waren sehr traurig, als sie die schöne Homina leblos vorfanden, doch trotz ihres Einfallsreichtums konnten sie die Ursache für ihren Tod nicht feststellen. Da Alekin-Nennoraes Schönheit selbst im Tod fortbestand, legten sie sie in einen Bernsteinsarg, den sie auf einem Hügel im Licht der Sterne unter der Aufsicht eines der Tryker abstellten.

Es schien, als würde sie nur schlafen.

Inzwischen sah der Karin die Hochzeit mit Dame Chiabre näher rücken, was ihn dazu veranlasste, seine Wanderungen mit seinem Mektoub immer mehr auszudehnen, in der Hoffnung, die Frau zu finden, die sein Herz gestohlen hatte. Eines Abends, als er sehr tief in den Wald hineingegangen war, sah er auf einem Hügel in der Ferne einen Lichtschein im Sternenlicht zittern. Alekin-Nennorae lag dort in ihrem Bernsteinsarg und war schöner als je zuvor. Ein kleiner Homin schien über sie zu wachen, bereit, sie gegen alles und jeden zu verteidigen. Der Karin hob seine Hand zum Zeichen des Friedens:

"Ich komme in Frieden. Ich habe so lange nach Alekin-Nennorae gesucht. Könnt ihr mir sagen, was passiert ist?"

Der Tryker erzählte von der Freude, mit ihr zusammen gewesen zu sein, und dem Schmerz, sie verloren zu haben.

"Meine Liebe zu ihr wird stärker sein als der Tod. Jena wird uns wieder zusammenbringen."

Seine Liebe war rein und sein Schmerz unermesslich. Dann kam jemand und legte ihm die Hand auf die Schulter.

"Deine Trauer ist groß, ebenso wie die Schönheit dieser Homin. Schwörst du, sie zu hegen und zu pflegen?
- Ja! Oh ja, das werde ich. Ich schwöre, dass ich sie beschützen werde und dass es ihr nie an etwas fehlen wird.
- Also... so sei es!"

Eine Hand hob sich für einige Sekunden über den Bernsteinsarg, dann senkte sie sich und verschwand.

Alekin-Nennorae öffnete die Augen und lächelte die Karin an.

Und als Dame Chiabre an diesem Abend den Spiegel fragte, wer die Schönste sei, antwortete er:

"Alekin-Nennorae ist tausendmal schöner als du und das für immer".

Daraufhin schien sich eine Präsenz über das Bild von Alekin-Nennorae zu legen ... bevor der Spiegel in Tausende von Teilen zersprang.
Der Karin heiratete Alekin-Nennorae unter dem Feuerwerk der Tryker und sie waren glücklich, bis Jena sie zu sich rief.

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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