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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, par Lutrykin


Il était une fois, bien avant que la Karavan fonde l'Eglise de Jena et permette aux homins de revivre, une jeune Matis.
Sa peau était d'une blancheur de neige immaculée qui faisait ressortir ses traits fins et sans défaut. Sa chevelure noire et ses lèvres rouges parachevaient ce chef-d’œuvre de la nature. Sa blanche peau l'avait faite surnommer Alekin-Nennorae. Le Karin était alors proche de sa période de floraison et tous les yeux se tournaient vers Alekin-Nennorae.

Mais elle avait aussi des ennemis.

Parmi les autres prétendantes, Dame Chiabre était la plus vile et ne reculait devant rien pour devenir Karae. Dame Chiabre possédait un miroir magique qui désignait sans se tromper l'homin adéquat quand on l'interrogeait. Le plus grand plaisir de Dame Chiabre était de se regarder tous les jours dans le miroir et de lui demander :

« Miroir, mon beau miroir, qui est la plus belle ? »

Pendant longtemps, le miroir n'avait reflété que son visage. Mais à présent, elle voyait apparaître la peau blanche et lumineuse d'Alekin-Nennorae. Les jours passaient et toujours le miroir montrait la jeune Matisse. Dame Chiabre fit alors appeler en secret la garde en qui elle avait le plus confiance. Elle lui promit de la faire devenir maîtresse des espions royaux dès son arrivée au pouvoir en échange de la disparition d'Alekin-Nennorae.
Et peu de temps après, la garde kidnappa Alekin-Nennorae et l'emporta loin, là où la forêt était la plus sombre. La jeune Matisse comprit que sa dernière heure était arrivée mais sa fierté de Matis lui permit de regarder la garde en face. Sous ce regard qui la fixait et cette beauté si désarmante, la garde ne put aller jusqu'au bout.
Désignant le cœur de la forêt, elle lui dit :

« Cours loin ! Dans cette direction. Des rumeurs disent qu'on y trouve d'autres homins. Pars et ne reviens jamais. »


Alekin-Nennorae se mit à marcher, s'enfonçant toujours plus profondément dans la forêt sombre. Après quelques jours de marche, elle trouva une petite hutte où tout était beaucoup plus petit que ce qu'elle connaissait. Sur une petite table, il y avait sept petites assiettes avec sept petits verres et sept petits couverts. Alekin-Nennorae avait très faim. Elle goûta une bouchée de chaque assiette et but une gorgée de chaque verre. Puis elle se coucha dans l'un des sept petits hamacs et s'endormit.
Au soir, les habitants de la maison revinrent : sept petites personnes amusantes qui passaient leurs journées à forer de l'ambre et d'autres matières. Quel ne fut pas leur étonnement en voyant que quelqu'un avait mangé leur repas et bu leur byrh. Des chamailleries commençèrent à éclater mais le plus petit éleva la voix leur rappelant un des principes qui guidait leur vie : le partage. Et chacun se contenta de sa part.
Puis vint l'heure de se coucher… La stupéfaction qui les saisit en voyant Alekin-Nennorae est difficile à décrire. Jamais ils n'avaient vu une homine avec une peau si blanche, des cheveux si noirs et des lèvres si rouges. Ils restèrent là, aucun n'osant s'approcher de peur de la réveiller en sursaut. Ainsi, lorsque Alekin-Nennorae ouvrit les yeux peu après sur ces petits homins, elle se demanda si elle ne rêvait pas. Leurs questions la bousculèrent un moment mais l'entrain et la bonne humeur de ses hôtes charma bientôt la fugitive. Chacun à son tour raconta son histoire et elle apprit que ces petits homins étaient des Trykers et qu'ils vivaient dans une région lacustre qu'ils aimaient explorer à la recherche de nouveaux matériaux à extraire leur permettant de construire de nouveaux objets.

Alekin-Nennorae avait trouvé un nouveau foyer.

Sa fierté de Matisse ne la retint pas d'apprendre à tenir leur maison et le soir, quand les Trykers rentraient, ils s'asseyaient tous autour du feu, se racontaient des histoires tout en buvant un peu de byrh. La vie était belle. Mais, loin de là, lorsque Dame Chiabre demanda à nouveau au miroir qui était la plus belle, celui-ci répondit :

« Dame Chiabre, vous êtes la plus belle ici, mais Alekin-Nennorae qui vit au-delà de la forêt, chez les Trykers, est mille fois plus belle que vous. »

Le visage de la dame se déforma sous l'effet de la colère et elle échafauda un nouveau plan pour tuer Alekin-Nennorae. Puisqu'elle ne pouvait faire confiance à personne, elle décida d'agir elle-même. En bonne Matisse, elle connaissait les poisons, comment les préparer et comment les utiliser. Aussi, sur des salins si rouges que personne ne pourrait y résister, elle appliqua le poison le plus virulent qu'elle connaissait. Puis, déguisée en colporteuse, elle se mit en route vers Trykoth à travers la forêt profonde.

Alekin-Nennorae vit la colporteuse venir à elle sans méfiance et lui offrit son hospitalité sans reconnaître sa rivale sous le grimage. Et c'est sans arrière-pensée qu'elle prit avec reconnaissance les salins qui lui rappelaient son enfance heureuse. Mais quand elle mordit dedans, sa graine de vie s'éteignit et elle tomba morte. Dame Chiabre savoura son triomphe et lorsqu'elle interrogea à nouveau son miroir le soir venu, c'est son propre reflet qu'elle put de nouveau admirer longuement. La tristesse des Trykers en trouvant la belle homine sans vie fut immense, mais malgré toute leur ingéniosité, ils ne purent déterminer la cause de sa mort. Comme la beauté d'Alekin-Nennorae perdurait même dans la mort, ils la placèrent dans un cercueil d'ambre qu'ils déposèrent sur une colline à la lumière des étoiles, sous la surveillance de l'un d'eux.

On aurait dit qu'elle ne faisait que dormir.

Pendant ce temps, le Karin voyait se rapprocher un mariage avec Dame Chiabre et cela le poussait à prolonger de plus en plus ses promenades en mektoub, dans l'espoir retrouver celle qui avait volé son cœur. Un soir, alors qu'il s'était enfoncé très profond dans la forêt, il vit une lueur trembler à la lumière des étoiles sur une colline au loin.
Alekin-Nennorae était là, allongée dans son cercueil d'ambre, plus belle que jamais. Un petit homin semblait la veiller prêt à la défendre contre tout et tous. Le Karin leva la main en signe de paix :

« Je viens en paix. J'ai cherché Alekin-Nennorae si longtemps. Pouvez-vous me dire ce qui s'est passé ? »

Le tryker raconta la joie de l'avoir côtoyée et la peine de l'avoir perdue.

« Mon amour pour elle sera plus fort que la mort. Jena saura nous réunir. »

Son amour était pur et sa peine immense. C'est alors qu'Elle arriva et posa la main sur son épaule.

« Ta peine est grande, tout comme la beauté de cette homine. Jures-tu de la chérir ?
— Oui ! Oh oui, je le ferai. Je jure de la protéger et de ne jamais lui faire manquer de rien.
— Alors… Qu'il en soit ainsi ! »

Une main se leva au-dessus du cercueil d'ambre durant quelques secondes, puis s'abaissa et disparut.

Alekin-Nennorae ouvrit les yeux et sourit au Karin.

Et quand Dame Chiabre ce soir-là demanda au miroir qui était la plus belle, il répondit :

« Alekin-Nennorae est mille fois plus belle que vous et à jamais. »

Une présence sembla se superposer alors à l'image d'Alekin-Nennorae… avant que le miroir n'explose en milliers de morceaux.
Le karin épousa Alekin-Nennorae sous les feux d'artifice des Trykers et ils furent heureux jusqu'à ce que Jena les rappelle à Elle.

Original

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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