#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!


Ryzom Team Manager
(FR / EN / ES)

#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.

"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, 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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SCHMELZE, von Wieny

Wir wärmten uns gerade an einem Lagerfeuer auf, als Gyaz'Alt, der Seher, zu uns kam und sich neben uns setzte.
Wie so oft hatte er die Psykopla-Wurzeln missbraucht, und nachdem er einige Zeit unseren Erzählungen zugehört hatte, begann er, eine seiner Visionen zu erzählen.
Eine Geschichte, die vielleicht wahr ist, vielleicht aber auch nicht... Es hängt davon ab, wie sehr Sie seinen Prophezeiungen vertrauen. Hier ist, was er uns an jenem Abend erzählte.

"Zu jener Zeit herrschte über die Matis ein König mit einem Herz aus Eis.
Er ist so kalt, dass die Stimmung an seinem Hof polar ist.
Und dass seine Untertanen frieren, wenn es darum geht, zu lachen und zu leben.
Die Königin verzweifelt an ihrem winterlichen Ehemann.
Sie lässt Gaukler, Geschichtenerzähler und Unterhaltungskünstler kommen, um die Stimmung aufzuheizen.
Doch es hilft alles nichts, auf den eisigen Lippen ihres königlichen Gemahls ist nie auch nur ein Lächeln zu sehen.
Schlimmer noch, er macht es sich zur Gewohnheit, denjenigen, die versuchen, ihn aufzuheitern, den Kopf abschlagen zu lassen.
Und bald weht nur noch ein einsamer Wind durch den verlassenen Palast.
Nichts Schlimmes, denn zu dieser Zeit wie auch heute bringt die Karavan die Abkürzungen zurück.
Aber wer genießt es schon, wenn man sich so bedankt?
Aus der Wüste kommt ein glühender Fyros-Erzähler.
Sein Gang ist flammend, seine Augen brennen mit einer lachenden Flamme.
Nichts kann seine Begeisterung für das Erzählen an der königlichen Tafel dämpfen!
Er beginnt eine erste Geschichte in einem farbenfrohen Stil.
Und wie durch ein Wunder…
Der König schlägt ihm nicht den Kopf ab.
Die Königin und die Höflinge geben ihm ein Zeichen, weiterzumachen!
Also erzählt er weiter und weiter, bis der Tag anbricht.
Nacht für Nacht, vor dem König, der langsam auftaut, erzählt er.
Er entflammt, er brennt, und das mit all seiner brodelnden Leidenschaft.
Nach und nach sieht man, wie der Karan erleuchtet wird.
Im Königreich leben alle wieder auf. Man singt, man tanzt, man ruft: Er hat gelächelt!
Das Herz des Königs ist nicht mehr eiskalt, der Fyros-Erzähler hat es erwärmt."

An diesem Punkt der Erzählung schweigt Gyaz'Alt, als wäre alles gesagt.
Ich mache ihn darauf aufmerksam, dass seinen Zukunftsvisionen eine Pointe fehlt, um sich Märchen oder Chronik nennen zu können.
Man muss nicht in die Zukunft blicken, um eine Zoraïe-Parabel zu finden…
Er schüttelt die Maske wie bedauernd und antwortet mir:

"Welchen Sinn hat es, von der brennenden Wut der Königin zu erzählen, als sie die Sache durchschaute?
Welchen Sinn hat es, die Flucht des Karan und seines Geschichtenerzählers vor dem traurigen Thron eines ausgestorbenen Königreichs und eines lieblosen Paares zu erzählen?
Alles, was zählt, ist, wie in jeder guten Geschichte, alles, was nicht gesagt wird.
Und für deinen Atysoël reicht es: Alles endet gut, und der Frühling kehrt zurück!".

Last edited by Maupas (4 months ago)

Last visit Tue Aug 16 18:48:01 2022 UTC

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