ROLEPLAY - Ryzom Community Forum Tue, 23 Jul 2024 08:06:49 +0000 ryApp::FeedBuilder 15 ROLEPLAY - Ryzom Community Forum <![CDATA[Released from his dungeon...]]> Thu, 04 Jul 2024 20:31:15 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Some say he found peace on an island, of the sort attributed to guilds. Others claim he fled far away, into the darkest of the Root Primes.

Finally, there are those who saw him walking, dressed in drab clothes, towards the Kami temple of the Cities of Intuition. A curtain rose at the door of one of the buildings, and as if at the end of a tragedy, the curtain fell again as the Day Star suddenly illuminated the beautiful Atys.

What future for him? Peace, perhaps. More likely, a little serenity.
Who will remember him? He was an actor in a work too big for him.

What more can I say?...

An unknown narrator]]>
<![CDATA[O'Tall]]> Fri, 14 Jun 2024 08:42:05 +0000 ROLEPLAY
He observes it, judges it, examines it from every angle and smiles contentedly.
Admittedly, this bracelet is just an uninteresting mock-up, but the assembly couldn't be better.

Just then, the lodge master, who had been watching O'Tall from afar, approached and picked up the jewel.
He quickly examines it, then turns to his apprentice.

"Nair-O'TAll your work is perfect, Congratulations!

Grytt Na... Sul told me Nair? maitre? but..."

the Jeweller smiles: "Oy.

Any, if you've mastered the art of assembling bracelets, your tiaras and earrings aren't worthy of Sul...

_Oy Maitre, Any ne is looking for people who can help me progress.

Ver Lor, Nair O'Tall."

The old craftsman seems to be thinking and then :

"_vas voir les Cuzans en Loria.
If sul is patient, they may agree to teach you their art.

As for the rest, don't listen to narrow-minded people who claim that one people is superior to another...

For Artisans like us, knowledge knows no boundaries.
Travel, observe and learn wherever possible!"]]>
<![CDATA[Réveil surprise]]> Thu, 13 Jun 2024 23:22:03 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Suddenly he felt weak and dizzy. He paced Gnookie and approached the cliff, stopping under an overhang in the shadow of the daylight. He leaned over, putting one hand to lean against the wall, and blew a little.

A distant whisper echoed in his head.

- « Tala … »

Eolinius looked around, frightened.

- « Eh ? »

- « … beware of her … »

He could recognize this voice among thousands, a voice from a distant past, but how was that possible ?

Eolinius said in a trembling voice:

- “Eny… but… is it Sul? … Po … Pom ? »

The whispering grew fainter and fainter, barely audible.

- « … find the wild sap … find … my littly one … she … »

Eolinius tried to concentrate on the voice, but the connection was broken. Pom ? This was not possible. He himself had attended her cremation during a grueling ceremony organized by his brother Fleurdetuber [1].

Although with Ubhal, he was used to expecting anything from her. Was his soul still there ? Had she managed to get through the mirror ? This story that didn't hold up ? He didn't know how, but she was capable of it. He wondered if he should tell his Talai that their Tali was still there. He was seized with doubt. What if it was a trick of the witch he had seen in his dreams ? The one Jazzy was talking about in the past ?

He caught his breath and headed towards Fairhaven, holding Gnookie tightly.

[1] Ubhal's funeral]]>
<![CDATA[N'ASA, Renaissance]]> Sat, 08 Jun 2024 21:22:16 +0000 ROLEPLAY
I confess: it's not impossible that my own positive assessment of Elke Miko's initiative was influenced by her greeting to my “gracious” contribution.
The fact remains:
— my distrust of “generative pretrained transformers” (who's the trainer?) equals yours (I've never even used one);
— the work carried out on my transcription is an attempt to write a summary, more easily readable and comprehensible (even if sometimes faulty) than a heap of minutes piling up lines and didascalies, but, like all summary work, it is forced to make choices;
— as I was planning to do the exercise in question “by hand” (since I broke my promise to do it for the previous meeting as well), ChatGPT get me out of a tight spot; let's not forget that the ideal homin of Matis people (and, in any case, mine) is a joking, even libertine and, above all, idle aristocrat);
— your contempt for “odds and ends” and your reverence for “serious discussions”, I (like our “returnee” Eloan) am far from sharing: reverence reserved for our Librarian President, I believe (much to your dismay?) that Atys is (and must remain) a place of play and joy, not of “head-scratching”;
— in my opinion, it is precisely Nair Zorro'argh, who is responsible to the Web for our Great Library, who is entitled to decide what can and cannot be published there.

Jena be with you!]]>
<![CDATA[Atys and its mysteries]]> Tue, 04 Jun 2024 10:21:39 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Kami'ata Nu'o Mi and Pa.

Nu arrived well in Yrkanis.Su trip went li'bien.
Nu regrets that Niu we went earlier. Su is a MAGNIFICENT city!
Ari'kami from the bottom of my heart for this beautiful gift.
Nu were zo'well welcomed by siu Frefini spouses, Copal Kito and Liosta Miko. Siu nu gave us a tour of the city. We went to the "Grand'Sair"where Su had a beautiful Rotoa. Liu knew that siu Matis had managed to grow a rotoa on the surface. Su nu was astonished.
We also saw the siu'o king's palace. Su is an architectural marvel.
Liosta Miko nu introduced Canillia Miko, a su'o acquaintance. Su is also li'kind: su nu has offered her hospitality for the night. Su has a li'pretty apartment in Yrkanis. Nu spent a comfortable night, and Nu su is li'grateful.
Mata Waki and kisses, Mi and Pa,
liu'o Staeflina.
<![CDATA[The childhood of Uzykos, son of two cracked fyros]]> Wed, 22 May 2024 08:58:20 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Alongside the school, Uzykos had to undergo, so to speak, the trials provided by Azazor to toughen him up. Why was he doing this to him? While he understood that his father had gone through a lot to achieve his social position, it was nothing like that for him. They had dappers, citizenship, an apartment in Thesos and many connections. So why did he have to toughen up? He had no intention of becoming an imperial soldier or a hothead. Besides, he still didn't know what he was going to do next. He suspected his father would want him to continue his studies, but strangely enough, they'd never discussed it. So he continued to submit himself to the horrific tests devised by his father's psychopathic brain. Returning alone from the Shadow Road two years ago had only been a foretaste. He no longer counted the dangerous expeditions into the Root Primes, the Burnt Corridor or Loria, sometimes unarmored, sometimes unarmed, sometimes even blindfolded and with his hands behind his back, to "guide himself by instinct". But the most sadistic part was that his father didn't take part in his expeditions. No, he hired a marauder for that purpose. A fyros just as crazy as him by the name of Krapoutos, with whom his father sometimes spent hours boozing on the way home from the Academy where he was finishing his higher education. It surprised her that he hadn't asked a legionnaire instead of a scoundrel to take charge of his training. He must have had his reasons. He would have preferred his half-sister Lyren to take charge. She was a legionnaire, but at least with her, he could breathe a sigh of relief and enjoy himself. It was with her that he'd taken his first and last sip of essence of oxyx. And it was she who had led him into the slums of Pyr to meet people, each more bizarre and zany than the last.

Today, his father had summoned him to Silan. He hadn't told him anything more, and Uzykos feared a new ordeal even worse than the others. He had rarely been to Silan, and each time it was to see this or that person with whom his father had business dealings. Perhaps this would be another one of his simple, inconsequential visits. After all, Krapoutos wasn't there. But at the sight of the barding his father wore, he felt a shiver run through his body.

They approached the edge of the cliff to the south, not far from a small ranger camp. Placing his heavy load on the ground, Azazor looked intently at his son.

"- Uzy, today you're going to have a special experience.

He then pointed to a road leading down to the bare land.

"Here begins the road to Oflovak. The one that leads to the Old Lands and the desert of our ancestors.

- I know, you explained it to me last time. And then we saw the story of the first great swarm and the explorer Oflovak Rydon at school.

- It's no longer a question of explanations today. For a few days, you will experience what lies beyond this barrier.

Uzykos opened his eyes wide.

"In about a day's walk, you'll reach the beginning of the green continent. You're going to go there and bring me back some salina leaves. There's quite a lot if you dare to go deeper into the forest. You can't get lost, just head straight in that direction, and there are markers still in good condition as long as you don't go too far down the road".

As he did so, he pointed to the horizon. It was misty. All that could be seen on the horizon was an opaque sheet of mist, and a light, icy wind swept up the cliff, making the young fyros tremble. He stood there in transit, not daring to utter a word. An anguished mooing roused him from his dazed state. Azazor placed a limp, blistered hand on Uzykos' shoulder.

"- Son, what you're hearing is an armadai. A kind of big arma. They're not dangerous. But I'll admit, their mooing gives you the willies.

- Dad! But if I die on the road to Oflovak, I might not be able to be resurrected!"

Pretending not to have heard him, Azazor continued, his gaze turned towards the mists:

"- The real danger as far as the verdant continent is the possible presence of large yetins. But their presence is very rare on this stretch of road and they're not interested in homins. If you keep your distance from the armadais, you won't come across any.

- Daddy!

- There are also jugulas in the forest, but you shouldn't have to worry about them if you stay at the entrance. Watch out, though: they're cunning and often well-hidden.

- Ramèch! Dad! Can you hear me?! If I die, it's for good".

Azazor turned a hard gaze on his son. Only he seemed capable of looking at him like that. A cold, hard, unwavering gaze, yet one that hid affection and a hint of sadness.

"- I know, son. That's why I told you you were going to have a special experience. Few homins here have ever experienced it. That feeling where you can actually die. It changed my vision of the world, and it'll change yours.

- Why are you putting me through all this? Ramèch de bordel à yubo! WHY?

- Because one day you'll come with me. Where it all began. Where we should never have left.

- Your ancestral desert craze again? If you want to go, go! But I'm staying in the New Lands.

- You'll go too, when you're ready. Not because you're my son, but because you've got a taste for it.

Uzykos frowned, saying no more. It was impossible to negotiate with his father. If he had decided something for him, he had no choice but to comply. So, after waiting a while, interrupted only by the mooing of an armadai, he bent down to the barda on the floor and rummaged through it.

"What should I get? he grumbled, not hiding his bad mood.

- Everything. You take it all. We Miri are not afraid of heavy loads"..

A glint of surprise shone in Uzykos' eyes. It was the first time his father had used his mother's surname, not his father's, to refer to him. The Miri, named after one of his probable ancestors from the Akatorum or Atakorum tribe, he couldn't remember. His link with the Old Lands. He picked up the whole bag and slung it over his shoulders. It was heavy, but nothing compared with what he'd already carried. Then he moved towards the start of the road, looking off into the mist.

"And don't forget the salina leaves, Azazor added.

- I hate you, he breathed, as the cool wind lifted his red hair.

He walked slowly away without another word. Azazor watched him go for a few minutes. When his son disappeared into the fog, his eyes had become moist.]]>
<![CDATA[Abyleus, young legionnaire]]> Mon, 29 Apr 2024 16:50:37 +0000 ROLEPLAY
oren pyr Lydia

Last night, I almost died. Others weren't as lucky as me. The daikos Meriops and my friend Galeus died. You know, Galeus, the fyros who passed the legion entrance test with me. We were together in the burnt corridor, practicing our axe skills on the kinchers with the daikos. Suddenly, I was knocked out from behind! I had just enough time to see black matis boots before I collapsed. When I was picked up, there was a whole bunch of homins around me, including the niakünos himself. They were in the middle of cleaning up the desert on the orders of archivist Apotheps when they came upon me, sprawled in the sawdust. Azazor interrupted the clean-up to set off in search of the two missing men. For yes, by my side, there was no trace of Meriops and Galeus.

We immediately suspected the nearby Ecorchés tribe. There were fights diplomatic exchanges with their chief Staero, but nothing came of it. They had nothing to do with it. They did, however, speak of strange homins seen in the area, some with red eyes. They seemed to be afraid of them. However, it seems that the Ecorchés manipulate magic at a very advanced stage and make friends with marauders. For them to be afraid of them, these red-eyed homins must have had a bad reputation. But obviously, nobody in the group knew who they were. Except the leader. But I hesitate to tell you. There's something taboo about it. Azazor led us to a cave not far from the fyros camp on the burnt corridor. Inside, we discovered a huge extinguished inferno and around it, the decapitated bodies of Galeus and Meriops. Yes, DECAPITATED! Impossible to revive. Apparently, it takes some serious skill to manage to kill someone without being brought back by the powers that be.

I carried Galeus' body to the altar of Dyron, and Lyren carried the sergeant's. The altar kami welcomed them. The altar kami welcomed them. Their bodies returned to the sawdust and their souls descended into the depths to fight the dragon.

Come on, I'll dare to tell you the name of the people who did this. They're followers of the cult of fyrak! Fanatics who make sacrifices to the dragon to gain power. And they dared to attack legionnaires not far from the fyros camp? Can you imagine the crazies? The chief seems to be in such a rage that he's sworn to track them down in the Old Lands. We're in for some dark times, I can feel it. But don't worry about me. At the barracks, nothing can happen to me. After that, I confess I'm not looking forward to going back to the burnt corridor.

Anyway, be well sis, and see you soon for my leave. We'll be praying at the Dyron kami altar for the fallen legionnaires.

cal i selak!

Your brother Abyleus
<![CDATA[Roleplay Youtube Video]]> Sun, 14 Apr 2024 15:37:02 +0000 ROLEPLAY Jadeyn <![CDATA[The flight of an ocyx]]> Sat, 13 Apr 2024 22:01:04 +0000 ROLEPLAY
The Knot of Dementia, what a beautiful place for such a name... No, the opposite, she thought. What a beautiful name for such a place. Goo everywhere, gingos, a Kitiniere and the kitins that go with it, not to mention the tribe of the worst bark-helmet crackers, no wonder when you live there, it makes you dizzy. They were dickheads whose only thought was to hand her sweets, which she politely refused, claiming she'd already received enough from Zhen to last a year, akep, thank you. But they forgot, and every time she came across a patrol, the same thing happened: "No, I don't want candy, you haven't seen any traces of a helmeted fyrette by any chance, found a sword, anything? Nothing, nothing, nothing around here? And over there? No, I'm not looking for smooth fruit, I'm looking for Trytonists.

Good day, akep. They were too high-strung to understand anything, these homins. Or maybe they were doing it on purpose and enjoying watching her go round and round in circles, hoping she'd slowly come to her senses and accept their drugs.

Nothing in the kitinière either. She'd run and sweated and run some more, fallen into a hole, into mud, into almost buried kitin galleries, but nothing. Not the slightest trace of homins, of a meeting place, of a sword, of the smell of fyros boots. Nothing.

Maybe it was time to return to civilization, the real thing, Thesos first, then Fairhaven, maybe the drakani had been trying to contact her. Maybe she'd missed something.]]>
<![CDATA[En quête de perfection]]> Sat, 16 Mar 2024 16:57:12 +0000 ROLEPLAY )]]> Aylia <![CDATA[L'Arbre-Vert]]> Thu, 14 Mar 2024 07:08:50 +0000 ROLEPLAY Entwurf

Ehrwürdige Versammlung,

Einige weise und respektable Bürger jeder Nation haben mir geraten, Ihnen das Projekt unserer Gilde vorzustellen, um Ihren Rat und Ihre offizielle Unterstützung zu erhalten.

Unsere Gilde beruht auf einigen hoministischen Prinzipien. Aber gute Worte sind nur dann von Bedeutung, wenn sie auch umgesetzt und auf die Probe gestellt werden. Um diese Aufgabe erfüllen zu können, müssen unserer bescheidenen Meinung nach einige Bedingungen erfüllt sein:

Die erste und wichtigste ist die Neutralität der Gilde, auch wenn ihre Mitglieder nicht unbedingt neutral sind, denn es geht uns nicht darum, eine neue Gilde für Neutrale zu gründen oder unsere Überzeugungen und Unterschiede, die alles in allem unseren Reichtum ausmachen, zu untergraben.

Die zweite Voraussetzung, die vor allem in Zeiten des Konflikts unerlässlich ist, ist die Offizialisierung der Organisation. Die Gilde muss in der Lage sein, in Krisensituationen zu handeln, ohne selbst daran beteiligt zu sein, und dennoch von allen Beteiligten anerkannt zu werden.

Nach Meinung einiger Weisen und Älteren ([HRP]und aus Gründen der Spielbarkeit im PvP [/HRP]) werden wir nur auf ausdrücklichen Wunsch von Organisationen, Gilden, Vereinen etc. tätig. Unsere Aktivitäten konzentrieren sich hauptsächlich auf Krisen: Wir können Friedensstifter begleiten, um sie zu schützen, zu heilen oder sogar zu befreien, wenn sie als Geiseln genommen werden. Wir können auch Botschaften übernehmen, um den Botschaftern den Beginn eines Dialogs zu eröffnen, wenn es zu einer Schließung kommt. Wir sind damit einverstanden, keine Waffen bei uns zu tragen, wenn es nötig ist.Großveranstaltungen: um Unpässlichkeiten und verschiedene Unfälle (Sonnenstich, Ertrinken...) und leider auch Opfer von Vandalismus und Krawallen zu behandeln. (z.B. der Markt in FH)Kriege: Aus Sorge um die Neutralität überlassen wir es den Mitgliedern der Karavan und den Kamisten, ihre eigenen Leute wiederzubeleben. Wir können nur in Zeiten des Waffenstillstands und auf ausdrücklichen Wunsch der Konfliktparteien eingreifen ([HRP]vor allem aus GP-Gründen, um nicht unter dem Deckmantel der Neutralität den Spielablauf zu stören [/HRP]). In Kriegen können wir Nachrichten zu Gefangenen bringen, sie pflegen und Konventionen durchsetzen.Naturkatastrophen: wahrscheinlich Goo, wenn es weiter in unser Land eindringt.

Auf Missionen tragen wir nur ein einziges Wappen, den Grünen Baum. Es ist das der Hoodo-Gilde und zeigt einen Baum als Symbol für Leben (die Farbe Grün) und Intelligenz (die Farbe Blau).

Für unseren Hauptsitz halten wir Fairhaven für ideal, da die Gilde hier ihren Ursprung hat und das Argument für diese Wahl keine nationalen oder religiösen Bezüge beinhaltet. Ständige Gründungsmitglieder: Zorroargh, Tryker, Rajaaar, Matis, Kamikajoe (?), Zoraï, (noch zu benennen), Fyros. Ständige und temporäre Mitglieder verpflichten sich, die Charta der Gilde zu respektieren. Temporäre Mitglieder sind Freiwillige, die sich uns für bestimmte Aufgaben anschließen, oft um uns zu helfen, da unsere Gilde jung und unerfahren ist, oder einfach nur, um ein Übergangsheim zu finden, in dem sie die Zweifel einer Entscheidung und die Qualen der Einsamkeit überbrücken können. Die Waffenknechte und offensiven Magier der Gilde werden nur zur Verteidigung (aber Vorsicht vor Provokationen) und zum Schutz der rettenden Gildenmitglieder eingreifen.

Danke für Ihre Aufmerksamkeit und Unterstützung.]]>
<![CDATA[Held by the Bolobi]]> Fri, 08 Mar 2024 19:51:36 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Held by the Bolobi

8am - Dua, Harvestor 20, 4th AC 2626 (HRP: January 4, 2024, 12am)

After an ordinary evening at the Fairhaven bar, Lorlyn decided to go back to brewing her Byrh with her favorite Bolobis deep in the Loria. No longer a Kamist and unable to teleport there directly, the Trykette wove her way through the Kitins and Cutes, Byrh in hand. Although she was known for her legendary "stealth", when it came to avoiding "nasty, unkind carnivores", she didn't do too badly. That is, if she didn't come across any "too cute" animals along the way.
"Lordoy the little Wonbais!" she shouted, waving her arms at the herbivores.
The latter, accustomed to her somewhat invasive presence, didn't stir a hair. The Trykette wanted to stop and take the time to greet them properly, but rapid footsteps drew her attention: Kitins! The shopkeeper, convinced that she had been very discreet, began to run, trying to understand how she had been spotted. Despite her short legs, the Tryker ran very fast and eventually outran her assailants. She congratulated herself on her athletic skills and hopped happily to the Bolobi camp.

No sooner had she arrived than numerous pairs of very long legs rushed towards her, releasing long, melodious notes that Lorlyn easily recognized as the voices of her little Bolobis. She immediately understood from their sound that they were asking for... Byrh! The trader stopped dead in her tracks. She had just realized something terrible: the Bolobis had finished her gigantic supply of Byrh, which contained months of work... The Trykette, panic-stricken at not having a single drop of her marvellous drink left, began to flail about among her friends. But it didn't stop there. The orange creatures, seeing the sudden panic of their Byrh dispenser, immediately understood the situation and began to move in a way Lorlyn had never seen them move before. Then, wide-eyed, she realized: they were surrounding her! The brewer looked up - to see something other than their paws - and met the furious gaze of the Bolobis. Suddenly frightened by the dark aura enveloping them, the little Trykette didn't recognize her friends. Trembling, she muttered: "You... want some Byrh, don't you?
Faced with their threatening cries, Lorlyn collapsed onto her knees and began to cry.
- But I... I don't have any more! You've... drunk it all...".
The Bolobis gave her a look that made her feel guilty. She was well aware that she hadn't been back here for a while, but there was such a large stock of Byrh that it was unthinkable that it would be empty in such a short time! After a few moments, Lorlyn pulled herself together and announced:
"I've got an idea! I'll go and buy some Byrh in Fairhaven, so you'll have something to drink while I make mine again!"
Unfortunately, the herbivores didn't seem to appreciate the idea of consuming a drink other than her own. This was made abundantly clear when a few of them collided with her, sending her satchel flying and crashing into the sawdust. Lorlyn, in a panic, rushed to the bag and was relieved to find that nothing had been broken. But there was a problem. Her very light pacts were gone! It was impossible to teleport, let alone to Fairhaven! She watched the Bolobis chew provocatively on those that hadn't yet been buried under the sawdust. Desperate, Lorlyn realized that her friends wouldn't let her leave until they had a good supply of the beverage worthy of their name at the ready.

And so began months and months of interminable work...]]>
<![CDATA[The shadow of a doubt...]]> Sun, 25 Feb 2024 21:38:48 +0000 ROLEPLAY The hand reaches out over the glowing embers, the object it holds resembling a necklace made of fine twigs.A Matis insignia appears on it, a Salina, but another inscription appears on it, evoking the Karan crown.The flame comes to lick the fine ornament.The fire quickly takes hold, devouring and inescapable.The hand lets go of the medallion, which falls into the heart of the fire like a wildfire that has come to the end of its course.a green flame rises, then the object is nothing but ashes, which are carried away in the smoke.a bundle of ink-covered leathers falls in its turn. the parchments shrivel and blacken...
The crackling has ceased in the stump, the bellowing of the Armas gives rhythm to the night of Atys.
It will be enough, and I wonder if Copal wasn't right to tell me to hide the manuscript. In fact, the Lucios taken from the manuscripts and the medallion are enough for me, and will be more discreet if spies or the overly insistent pry into the house.
They were certainly antiques, but they're far from valuable, and I couldn't risk losing the originals.
As for the lucios, they're caulked in a jar, under shells I drilled in the jungle.
<![CDATA[De la noblesse]]> Tue, 20 Feb 2024 16:26:15 +0000 ROLEPLAY For this reason, and because the "as soon as possible" is imminent, he is sending the following missive to his sovereign without delay.
Yrkanis, Germinally the 20th 2627-3, to Stevano Karan

I note that the agenda for the forthcoming Chamber of the Nobles contains no mention of Serae Liosta Frerini's accession to the Nobility. And so much the better: after discussing the matter at length with the serae involved, I'm now certain that she has no desire for such an accession, not out of false modesty, but out of loyalty to her youthful Tryker years.
That's why I've come here to express my gratitude to Your Majesty for not yielding to the request I made on the 17th of Pluvia.

Matis aiye!
Nilstilar Thorec
Ambassador of Your Majesty near the Naw Trykoth Federation and (interim) near the Ranger Organization
<![CDATA[The Hairpins]]> Mon, 19 Feb 2024 10:56:47 +0000 ROLEPLAY Léa accompanies Altarae on a trip to Yrkanis.
The new Royal Jeweler smilingly rereads the mail from the palace.
She takes out her writing pad and with her best quill begins to write her reply.
Filirae Nirni di Varello Karaedin
de: Serae Canillia Altae Di Sylengi
Nindën du Filira Ordre Alkiën
Royal Jeweller

à: Filirae Nirni di Varello

Deles Silam,

It will be an honor to share a chai and benefit from your knowledge of filira art Botanique.
If you like,
I will be accompanied by my private secretary, Serae Léa Cuini.

I'm forever yours.

Serae Canillia Altae Di Sylengi
Nindën du Filira Ordre Alkiën
Royal Jeweller

After rereading,
Canillia applies her seal, then calls Lyssan to take this precious letter to the palace chancellery.]]>
<![CDATA[And then]]> Fri, 09 Feb 2024 22:10:06 +0000 ROLEPLAY
She seemed back to her old self. At least, in part. The biological results were quite good, within the limits of what they could hope for. Her arm was gradually regaining its mobility and sensitivity; it would be a long time before she could use it as she used to, but it was possible.

However, as the days went by, Eeri became increasingly agitated and nervous. At times, she looked at him as if she were meditating on sticking a dagger in his mask because the results weren't up to scratch. It was a little more than the predictable fyros impatience and there was something about it that reminded the scientist of other guinea pigs, in other circumstances. Annoying, very annoying. He could, of course, drug her to make her more malleable, or test various potions to purge her organism of the poison that was corrupting her. None of these solutions appealed to him. Exchanging Eeri's mind for an able-bodied arm was of little interest, and fighting the product that had altered her life seed would lead to more than uncertain results.

One thing was certain: she was no longer "herself" enough to make an informed choice. He wasn't going to be able to present his experiment to the other scientists as a great success. It wasn't a failure, but he couldn't say it was a success. The exact limits of his experiment remained to be seen.

He picked up the scalpel, serene about what was to come.
- I need to check one more detail with your sap, Eeri.

She eyed him warily, but allowed herself to be approached. Without giving her time to react, the zorai thrust the makeshift weapon into the fyros' heart. As her life slipped away, he kept his gaze on her, supporting her almost tenderly:
- We meet at the vortex.

There were three possible options. Either the resection would put things right, and everyone would feel better. Or it would reveal more clearly the shortcomings of the operation, and allow more appropriate action to be taken. Or the Powers That Be wouldn't bring her back... in which case, one less problem.

She exhaled a final sigh, then disappeared. In all probability, the Powers had taken care of it. Mazé'yum hurried back to the wormhole, albeit less expeditiously for himself: he didn't like sticking a dagger in his heart when he could avoid it.

However, no one was waiting for him at the wormhole. The Karavan agents hadn't seen any acerbic fyrette, or one in any other mood.

Her body had been recalled. She had to be somewhere. The most likely attraction was the country's other wormholes, but it would take her some time to check them out, especially as the others were not guarded like the Masure: Eeri could very well have fled into the Primes or the Desert without anyone seeing her, completely disoriented and having lost all common sense.

And it was all the more embarrassing that he couldn't organize the hominid hunt himself. He himself had people to run away from, who were just waiting for an opportunity to find him...]]>
<![CDATA[Silence...]]> Fri, 09 Feb 2024 21:04:40 +0000 ROLEPLAY One day, he takes them to the beach; another, he buys them caprini milk while he talks to Lyren. The most recent outing was a theater rehearsal in Windermeer. The children went from mischief to mischief, and Caprini's milk didn't contain them this time! Maya'kan ended up drumming on Krill's hat, while Saya'kan threw the assembly's beer barrel into the water...
The commander was feeling overwhelmed.
But... time seemed long. Time seemed long because he'd never waited so long for his wife. Why wasn't she coming back to the family apartment?
He's back...
Jazzy was back to her old anxieties...
He took refuge in endless discussions with the Drakan...
To avoid the silence, heavy and present, once the children are asleep, as every evening.
The eerie silence had returned.]]>
<![CDATA[Recueil de poésie matis]]> Mon, 29 Jan 2024 23:20:02 +0000 ROLEPLAY Doux chemin
The gentle path between the lines
You, the patient witness to my secret emotions
When my heart was open to the beauties of love
And high I sang of the joy that filled me.

The pungent scent of resin intoxicated me.
On your hillsides, white roses I picked
Her mind filled with her beautiful bouquets
And as I waited to see him, I stripped them off.

Now, so quickly, spring has come and gone,
You're thriving in the summer heat,
And the two of us go through you hand in hand.

Your alinea entwine higher than ever.
We go, drawing strength from the Forest,
Looking forward to tomorrow.]]>
<![CDATA[An extraordinary embassy in the Land of Masks]]> Thu, 11 Jan 2024 22:49:38 +0000 ROLEPLAY
- So you were appointed ambassador to the Matis, but you went and put your mask on in other countries too.
- It was just me! I was only there to see, at first. But who knows where the Theocracy has kept its other ambassadors. Too much free access to mushrooms, no doubt.
- ... and you laughed at everyone?
- Born, born. I just enjoyed the shows I was offered. Which were often very funny, and sometimes a little pathetic. But I didn't commit any diplomatic blunders, I know how to behave.
- ... You gave alcohol to the Tryker ambassador without telling her what it was and let the Matisse alchemist think it was poison.
- Poor Lorlyn was completely sober, I couldn't leave a colleague in that state. Can you imagine attending a political meeting sober? What a horror! As for what Canillia deduced from the vial in question... well, I agree: bambooka¹ is so bad that it's one hell of a poison, but it was the only thing I had in my first-aid kit and it's usually more useful for disinfecting my tools. I couldn't give a tryker what I take; that would have looked bad.
- ... Then you took part in the Jena prayer among the matis. Even though you are an official representative of the Theocracy.
- It's not my fault that the Theocracy only has its Karavanieres to send out to perform. And I'll end up convincing the officials to reform the state.
- Girl, you're on your own with the revolution, and our Wise Ones aren't the type to take it lying down. I wish you were more...
- Wiser? More awake?
- ... At least a little more discreet.
- Don't worry, mi. Nothing bad will happen to me. Can you imagine Nikuya's face if I were put in prison? Initiates can be cruel, but no one will openly challenge the most ferocious Awakener of our generation.
- And if she finds out you're using her, she'll chop you into little pieces.
- Born. Born, I don't use her. I wish I'd spared her the trouble, really. That's why I don't make so many waves. But I can't deny myself for love, any more than I can deny the love we have for each other. I'll do what I can to ensure that Karavaners and Jenaists have their place in this country. Gently, I promise. I'm not going to convince the cousins to attack Zora... we all know it's pointless anyway. Instead, I'll take my cue from Sève and use reason and emotion to convince them.

The mother sighed. Yokao had always been a hothead, a non-conformist mask in the extreme. For a while, she'd thought her daughter would settle down when she joined the Healers of the Soul², a government body for normalizing Zoraie society if ever there was one, but even the excellent Misuno-ko hadn't managed to turn her wayward daughter into an honorable initiate. Initiated nonetheless; it was still better than the dreadful rumors she'd heard about Yokao's life when she was in Yrkanis. Were they rumors at all, when they were reported by the girl's own uncle? Oh, despair... And now this ambassadorship, which could have filled the mother's heart with pride, if it weren't for the anguish over what Yokao would generate as a catastrophe this time.

- At least tell me you've written your report to the Theocracy in a slightly more... compliant way.
- Report? What report? Hoooo, mi. Nobody reads these reports. So why bother writing them? Born, born, if they want reports, we'll have to talk. And if we do talk, it'll be about a little more than reports.

Still, Yokao felt a little sorry for his mother's dismayed expression:
- We'll be fine. The government doesn't have any kind of foreign policy anyway, and couldn't care less what happens in other countries. The previous ambassador almost started a war with the Trykers and she didn't even get a lecture for it. So, whatever I may do or say in my role as ambassador... it's not going to disturb the meditations of the Sages and the Great Mask. It's just... a great opportunity to have some fun. And I intend to make the most of it!

HRP : explication de quelques détails
¹ Bambooka: Zoraï alcohol. Nobody drinks it except the most inebriated, because it hits the skull and rips the throat out without any other quality. Generally used to polish armor.
² Healers of the Soul: how many times have I told you they're not shrinks? But keep thinking that these "shrinks" are interested in Zoraïs' state of mind in order to reduce their drug consumption.
<![CDATA[fatigué de courir]]> Tue, 09 Jan 2024 09:17:03 +0000 ROLEPLAY Ce jour dans le bureau de la Milae j'étais tendue et inquiète de réussir.
Probablement plus que lorsque j'ai passé mon examen final à l’Académie.
Il faut bien l'avouer, évaluer ma capacité à quitter l'enceinte de l'école était bien l'objet de cette entretien.
Heureusement, l'ombre du Cabinet de Réflexion et le travail de dressage de l'école masquaient toujours mon individualité.
Je n'étais pas encore totalement redevenue celle que j'ai toujours été...

... Nous entrons silencieusement dans la pièce.
Derrière le grand bureau Milae est assise dans un immense fauteuil de cuir.
La professeure Serae Lichini Sicco est assise face à sa responsable.
La Directrice consulte les documents que la professeure d'Aelyne vient de lui remettre.
De temps en temps Milae porte une tasse à ses lèvres.
Nous restons là debout silencieusement derrière la Lichini.
Je reste légèrement en retrait, les yeux baissés sans pour autant rien perdre de tout ce qui se passe.
Au bout de quelques minutes la Directrice s'adresse à la professeure responsable de la maison des Bawaabs Plaisants :

    " Voici donc votre dernière candidate au service actif.
    — Syl Serae, voici Ubbae que ne propose à votre évaluation.."
Aelyne, en silence, fait le tour du bureau pour remplir avec soin et discrétion la tasse de Milae puis reprend sa place derrière Pini. L'homine ne semble pas avoir remarqué et continue:

    "La petite Ubbae... Syl, ne me souvient d'elle.
    Une bonne élève, Nec exceptionnelle certainement, mais un bon élément tout de même.
    Selon Lye, elle est donc prête à servir?
    — Cela sera à Lye d'en décider, serae. Elle connait les règles du service.
    Elle y est habile et concentrée.
    Bien que sa sève ai été un handicap certain dans son projet, son éducation a été un succès complet.
    Elle a parfaitement intégré ce qu'est sa fonction et sa place dans la société.
    Sans vulgarité, elle est agréable à regarder et se tient toujours comme il se doit.
    Elle parvient toujours à remplir son office sans jamais s'imposer le moins du monde.
    Elle maitrise parfaitement ses chiffres, ses lettres et a même acquis quelques notions de litterature.
    Avec un peu d’expérience, de volonté et sa bonne éducation, elle pourrait peut être même espérer devenir un jour la gouvernante d'une Maison mineure. "
Aelyne qui s'est approchée à nouveau ramasse une boule de papier tombé au sol.
En silence elle la pose dans la corbeille puis reprends sa place les yeux toujours baissés.

    "Laye Maie... Nous la testerons plus avant dans nos bureau d'Yrkanis.
    Cela lui permetra de prendre facilement de l'experience.
    Nous pourrons ainsi commencer à lui chercher un contrat.
    J'espère que cette nouvelle Nityaenae ne nous apporte pas d'ennuis cette fois.
    Serae Lichini Sicco, préparez notre élève. elle partira demain...

    Lye pouvez disposer."

...Après mon arrivée à la capitale, Je n'ai pas eu le droit de quitter les Bureaux d'Ore Altae pendant deux mois.
Si proche de toi ny-Fleur et de ny-Canillia je trépignais, mais je devais patienter.
Toujours encadrée par un élément de confiance totalement dévoué à l'Organisation, je n'étais jamais seule.
Avec impatience j'attendais que l'on me permette de sortir...]]>
<![CDATA[-- The masked Tryker --]]> Thu, 21 Dec 2023 14:44:25 +0000 ROLEPLAY

Excavations in the oldest archives of the Fairhaven library have unearthed some very old bar plans by Trykeri architects. Remind you of Nairi-Trykeri?

The bar on Thésos, based on Trykeri plans, is a pale copy of what was done around Trykoth in ancient times.

Signed: -- The masked Tryker --]]>
<![CDATA[Mémoires d'homine]]> Mon, 27 Nov 2023 11:29:16 +0000 ROLEPLAY
On a rainy morning, a young yubo was born, leaving his mother to die. His father? Well, like all males, he had abandoned his female. The little one grew up among the group of yubos with the surrogate mothers. Surprisingly, he sensed that he was different: he sought the company of the hominin.

Homins amused him. And just as well, the homins were always trying to get closer to him. And he? to lure them in, pretended to follow them, even let himself be stroked. No sooner had they turned their backs than he was peeing on their ugly dresses. And as he was being chased, he would hide under the homines' dresses. The homins, trying to catch him, would often get a good slap from the homine. But, as his whiskers tickled the homines' legs, they would scream and jump, almost stepping on him. As a result, he'd bite their calves and run off.

In winter, when he saw a female by the fire, he would hide in a bush. When night fell, he'd approach, casting a huge shadow that would scare off any female. If the hominin wasn't afraid, he'd snuggle up to her for the night. In the morning, he'd put a nice turd in her boots to keep her feet warm and pee on her bag to keep the insects away. Then he went back under the comforter. But in the morning, the homine, putting on a boot, screamed and threw the 2nd boot at the yubo, who ran to hide in a bush. No sooner had the homine risen than gingos swooped down on her bag, nibbling at it and devouring her supplies in the process.

The yubo grew up to be the terror of his group of yubos. Until the day he found a hominin who protected him from homins who got too close to her, swinging a pickaxe at them, and who didn't scream when he tickled her calves. She even gave him scratches, toffees and warmth on chilly nights. The first time she stepped into his gift-filled boot, she laughed. And she killed the gingos charging at her bag. Then she caught up with the yubo and told him not to do that.

Since then, the yubo has strutted proudly alongside this homine. To thank her, well, he continues to pee on the dresses of homines and bites the calves of homins who get too close. As time went by, Bipbip remained faithful to Eleanide; despite his arthritic condition, he followed her as best he could. She, seeing him waddle with difficulty, carried him more and more.]]>
<![CDATA[Unexpected journey...]]> Tue, 14 Nov 2023 11:51:08 +0000 ROLEPLAY He was a young homin, and his circles would have gone no further than the third (except perhaps in craftsmanship).
But Chelin had the quality (or flaw) of being very curious. His lack of experience prevented him, much to his regret, from making long journeys alone to other regions.
But one fine day, having overslept after a night spent sewing a mediocre suit of armor, Chelin stumbled upon a strange object at the entrance to Zora: a glittering sphere seemingly made of amber. He approached it, curious, and felt as transported as when he left Silan.
He awoke at the foot of a terrifying kitin. He leapt to his feet, thinking he'd run away, but then he thought he was dreaming: it may sound absurd, but the Kincher handed him a club and a yubo. He then invited the zorai to play a strange game: extreme yubo golf !!!!
After two hours of trying to catapult the yubo into the mouth of a very friendly kirosta, Chelin thought he was going mad.
He spotted a gap in the high cliff that surrounded the golf course. A way out of this absurd nightmare !!!!
But he was disappointed to see the exit cluttered with pieces of bark from a landslide.
He stood up on tiptoe and peered through the clutter: bandits were having a good time in their camp.
In despair, the homin donned his amplifiers and, resolutely, cast a spell on the bandits. In one fell swoop, they struck him down...
But something happened that Chelin hadn't expected: he woke up in front of the master Kami of Pyr.
It hadn't been a dream, but he was really dead.
It didn't really matter to him: he'd made the journey to the land of the fyros!
He consulted a map and realized that his absurd adventure with the kitin golf course had taken place in the Kamis' secret oasis, inaccessible for so many years!
He couldn't believe it! Forgetting that his people had little taste for drink, he ordered a shooki liqueur from the bar and, as was to be expected from a zorai, regurgitated his entire glass, thereby expelling himself from the bar.
But he tore up a pact and went home. The evening found him happy with the end of this most strange day, and Chelin fell asleep with a smile on his face...]]>
<![CDATA[Journal de Lorlyn O’Barrel]]> Thu, 09 Nov 2023 17:53:45 +0000 ROLEPLAY [HRP] : For a better understanding of Lorlyn's RP, read here Lorlyn's investigation of Kamis ""which ends chronologically here in this diary (more precisely on 16/12/2022 IRL). [FIN HRP]

Holeth, Folially 6, 3rd AC 2623 (07/05/2023)

Oh no! I've got a new competitor! He's Hetyllic, a Fyros... He says that Oflovak's Byrh is the best Byrh in the desert! Not only is he a liar, he's also a swindler, selling his Byhr for more than mine, the Best Byrh in the whole of Atys! Anyway, he puts sawdust in it, he said so himself! It can't be good!

Prima, Harvestor 25, 2nd AC 2625 (17/09/2023)

*shaky handwriting
I... I... Ba' created a new Byrh... The "Teddy Byrh"... I tasted it and...

*almost illegible handwriting
Mine's... next door... It's... I... It's... filthy...

Quinteth, Medis 5, 3rd AC 2625 (01/10/2023)

I've just come out of the Fyros Assembly, and it was super weird! First of all, everyone was wearing disguises, even Grabiphybubus! The ceiling was so beautiful in the room, too... And the rays of light...!
I also got yelled at by the Fyros downstairs, because I was talking too loudly and "disturbing the assembly"... They're not funny, those ones... As if noise could disturb!

I felt so good, it was so weird! And then it was my turn to go on stage, so I went downstairs! As the floor wasn't moving, I stumbled down the stairs and it wasn't easy to keep my balance! But when I got there, I got the biggest surprise of my life! I couldn't read my notes! The Fyros made a strange face when I said that, but at the same time, let them try to read motionless letters! And also, the ground wasn't moving, and neither was the rest of it...! If that's not magic, I don't know what is!

As the Fyros seemed to be in as much of a hurry as if they were being chased by an army of ragus, I did my best to remember what had been going on lately. So I mentioned the water route: easy, we swam, swam, walked, and pow, delivery done! And there were lots of mektoubs too, they were so cute...!
Then I had a stroke of genius! I tried to get the Empire to pay us back for the food and materials we'd used to get to Pyr! Now, I may have gone a bit overboard, saying that we're out of Dappers, that we're all broke and that if they don't pay us back we'll starve to death... But that's a detail, hihi!

I was deep into my great speech when two dodgy homins came to take me out, pretending to be Kyriann and Eolinius! I cried kidnap, and luckily the Fyros guard stopped them! Then, out of nowhere, a Zorai gave me something to drink, I drank the strange liquid and... PAF! The world I know suddenly came back! And all the homins took off their disguises! And in fact... well, it was Kyky and Eo who had brought me out... Oops!]]>
<![CDATA[Lettres à mon enfant.]]> Thu, 02 Nov 2023 09:41:48 +0000 ROLEPLAY V. Le Gubani blanc, de l'autre coté du miroir[…]mon enfant, ma Toute petite je sais maintenant que je vais mourir et que ça va pas être "aimable".
Tout cela je le dois à la Sève Noire que j'ai un jour décidé d'accueillir en moi. Même si personne ne m'y a forcé, Je ne peut pas dire que j'ai eu le choix. J'ai conscience que j'aurai pus suivre bien d'autres routes.
Mais, un jour le Gubani Blanc m'a trouvé et je l'ai suivi de l'autre coté du Miroir.
Evidament, mes paroles doivent te sembler bien énigmatique.
Tu pensera peut être qu'il s'agit des délires d'une vielle homine à l'esprit faussé par la drogue? Tu dois me croire, j'ai, un jour, traversé l'horizon du miroir de la réalité et de l'autre coté, Le Gubani blanc m'a guidée dans un monde différent et fantastique.
Cet Univers n'était peut être pas mieux que celui où je suis née et que tu connais.
Mais, il était plus simple.
"Certain ont dus se faire un plaisir de te raconter ce qu'il crois connaitre de mon passage dans le Clan de la Sève noire. Mais ils ne savent rien.
Voici ma vérité, du moins celle que j'ai arpenté...

Comme il se doit: tout commence toujours au bar de Fairhaven.
Je discutais avec Ny-Cybel autour d'une Byhre quand un malotrou, membre de L'UFA c'est avisé que ma Talai était une criminelle qui n'avait rien à faire à Fairhaven. Rapidement le ton a monté, malgré mes tentatives d'apaisement je n'ai eu à l'époque d'autre choix que de m’interposer.
Que les Parents pardonnent à cet homin, il m'a frappé avec tant de violence que les services des puissances furent nécessaires pour me ramener. J'ai su que Ny'Cybel m'avait vengé mais cela n'a jamais été un réconfort.
Si cet honnorable membre de L'UFA en était resté là, rien n'aurait été pareil.
Mais j'ai à nouveau été appelée à me justifier devant la Justice des Lochi. [...]

[...]Pom n'est pas sortie de son appartement de Chrystabell depuis l'incident à Fairhaven. Quand Fleur entre, sa mine défaites ne laisse rien présager de bon....

    «Elysem Gan Lor Ny'Fleur?»

    _ An... Y Gan AnLor Ny'Pom... Y sors d'un rendez-vous avec le Nair-COMANDANT de l'UFA, Nair-Jazzy...
    Il campe sur ses positions, on va nulle part avec lui...»

Pom se souvient de cette nuit de combat avec Ny'Jazzy devant Avendale:
    «...Y Sul avais prévenu.... depuis qu'il a perdu Ny'Cybele il n'est plus le même...
    Il ne jure plus que par Detem Drakani Al Ba U.F.A....
    il n'a plus confiance en grand monde.

    Quoi qu'il en dise, Y reste pour lui une étrangère avec des relations troubles et suspectes.»

La trykette prend une profonde respiration:
    «...Y Sul avait dit qu'il ne nous donnerais jamais raison contre un des membres de sa précieuse UFA..»

Fleur essaye de rester positif:
    « toutes façons, il n'a pas le pouvoir de décider seul. Y vais faire appel au gouverneur, suivant la constitution les choses sont ....

    _ Laisse, Fleur, cela ne mènera pas à de bonne choses.... Les méthodes anciennes avaient du bon...

    _...Sul vas pas faire une touberie? pense à ta guilde, à ton engagement envers les Rangers et les Lochi...»

Pom très calme:
    «J'ai vaincu Cybele pour aider Ny'Jazzy à lui rendre la raison...
    ...J'ai donné ma sève pour protèger les Lochi des invasions Kitini et des exactions Marauds...
    ...J'ai aidé L'UFA à chaques fois que Y ai pus le faire...
    Al, ce Jeune Toub m'a qualifié de... "parasite"...
    ...Il paraitrait que Y "suce les ressources de Detem Lor Lochi"... Comme si ils étaient plus à lui qu'a moi!

    ...Y me serai contenté d'une excuse, mais An, c'est An possible pour cet homin, il lui faut de l'absolut...
    Dans les Lochi les trykeri sont toll Talai. Mais, certain sont visiblement au dessus des autres!

    Y pleure sur les fondements des Trykeri, qu'en ont-ils fait?»

Chuchotant pour elle même :
    «Tryka... MEER... Sella...»

Fleur regarde sa sœur l'air effrayé [...]



<![CDATA[A dreamer wakes up]]> Sun, 29 Oct 2023 18:00:20 +0000 ROLEPLAY But welcome back to Bark! Nice to see some roleplayers back]]> Kyriann <![CDATA[Canillia Altae Di Sylengi homine aux doigts agiles]]> Thu, 19 Oct 2023 10:15:53 +0000 ROLEPLAY Canillia prend un Velin pour lui répondre.

<![CDATA[The end of a story]]> Wed, 18 Oct 2023 19:43:18 +0000 ROLEPLAY
HRP warning: For those who don't already know Ba'Rakha, it may be useful to point out that although truth is a concept he's mastered perfectly, he's completely unconcerned with the subject. He likes to gather information, even if he'll never tell you how (and frankly, you don't want to know), and fiddle with it until the result suits him. In his profession, that's pretty useful, but it's highly inadvisable to consider him a reliable source (at least, if you're not in his line of work). And since neither he nor his boss talk business in front of witnesses, and the vorax don't talk either, you're not aware of what was said that day in the Primes.

Ba'Rakha sits on a small mound, watching the caravan move away into the gloom of the Primes. The chieftain joins him, seemingly unconcerned by the vorax frolicking a little further away.

- What's this all about?

The Tryker picks up his dice from the moss, smiling.

- I thought it might be good for you to get back in touch with day-to-day operations, get a taste of the field, get out of your office and all that.

The chief sweeps her eyes over the landscape. The dzikus and plumash sting the area with their glow like a starry sky, and the wind whispers languorous or epic songs. Gubanis play on the moss between the fungao. There's everything to move a poet's, painter's or musician's soul. Which the chef is absolutely not.

- Lost.
- You can't say I didn't try.

Ba'Rakha stands up, looking no more disappointed than that, under the cold gaze of the leader. Well, her gaze is always cold, except when it's icy, so he's used to it.

- Why did you want me to take such an interest in this caravan?
- Actually, I wasn't interested in that one. I was more interested in discussing this one.

And Ba'Rakha points off to the side. The chieftain scans around, but can't see anything special. A tribe of idiot bandits, a ruin like the ones you find all over the Shadow Route, vaguely reminiscent of a windmill, but not the shadow, or the light, of a caravan.

- I'm not amused by your riddles.
- Not even a little? But I'm trying. But it's true that the Pyromaniacs didn't leave much, which is no doubt fortunate for the people of the Bark in general, and the locals in particular. But I can't help wondering who else it might have helped.

This time, the boss looks more calculating than angry.

- All right, what did you find?
- So far, just amusing coincidences. For example, a guy who disappears for years, lots of years, who doesn't give a sign of life to his beloved wife, but who continues to wear his wedding ring in spite of it all. Love is so beautiful, it always moves me.
- Spare me the unnecessary comments.
- You're breaking all my things here, you know that? Well... There's also this caravan where all the members and mektoubs die for some unknown reason. So far, so good - this is the Primes, after all, and everyone makes mistakes.
But! The Powers That Be don't call back any of the members of the caravan in question. Or at least, they're leaving some of them to rot in the sawdust. And yet there are Karavan altars, Kamis and even a marauding crystal in the area. And that's a hell of a lot less common. In any case, if I knew how to definitively eliminate half a dozen homins, I wouldn't bother with a few smugglers. I'd find much more interesting targets.
And then, among the Trykers who discover the remains, there's the wife of the guy I was telling you about earlier. And despite the goo damage... Oh yes, I forgot to tell you about the goo. There's a box with the symbol of the Black Circle and a few clouds of goo around the corpses. You might as well say that they're no longer really identifiable.
But! The man's wife, therefore, recognizes her dearly departed husband among the few remains. Her head's gone, there's not much left, she hasn't seen him for years, but it doesn't matter, she knows it's him, her heart can't doubt it. It's truly magnificent, people who love each other like that, who recognize each other no matter what the circumstances.
- Abrège, I told you.
- One could almost think you had a problem with love, you know. But then... Because of the goo, the only solution was to burn it all down, with real fire. And so, the Pyromancers kindly agreed to clean up the whole area, and all the evidence with it.
- Proof of what?
- There's no way of knowing, since they've disappeared, of course. Oh, you don't have to make eyes at me like that. The hominin remains were a priori Matis and wore Matisagoo uniforms. So we have a tribe in goo who have gone to the Black Circle for supplies, who are returning home to the Forest "Ba'Rakha doesn't even glance in the direction of the long-gone caravan" and who have a fatal accident on the way. So fatal that none of its members can come forward to tell their leaders what happened to them. One would hope, though, that by now they've learned to take the minimum precautions when transporting such things.
And on the other side of the wormhole, we have the Federation, whose army has failed to prevent this kind of traffic from passing through its territory. At the same time, their commander seems to love wandering around goo fields, and at least one of the taliari was so chummy with the Antekamis that she literally ate at their table. Oh yes, didn't I tell you? The wife in such a hurry to get rid of the remains of her drug dealer husband is a taliar.

How much do you want to bet she's been covering up his dealings all these years, even stocking up on supplies from him, before deciding he was getting cumbersome and it was time to get rid of him?"

Ba'Rakha looks very pleased with his deductions, and plays absent-mindedly with his dice while the chiefess ponders all this.

- And how could she ensure that none of the caravanners survived?

The Tryker sulks a little, before pulling himself together.

- No idea. But you've got to admit, it's a nice story.

The headmistress stares into space for a moment.

- Yui. A nice story. Plus, there's no more evidence.]]>
<![CDATA[End of game]]> Thu, 12 Oct 2023 21:07:17 +0000 ROLEPLAY
- So, what do we do with it?
- He's been here for three days, and I'm going to find out how long it's been since he's had a drink of water. At some point his kami will call him back.

The word "kami" seemed to awaken something in the flesh statue. Haokan rose to his feet with a blank stare, leaving all his belongings behind, and left the room, followed by the two homins who couldn't come up with a real answer.

They followed him as the bereaved man made his way back down the shadow road, unwittingly avoiding the various predators, as catatonic as ever. They stopped at the vortex of the Bosquet de l'Ombre, leaving him to continue on his way, wherever he was going.

- This guy is really nuts.
- What, that surprises you? Everyone knows it. But we had a hell of a time proving it.


How had he crossed the Primes, then the Jungle? He had no memory of it. But the camp awakened something in him. Homins crowded around him, but he was unable to answer their questions, let alone understand them. One word, however, cut through the haze he was in.


He clung to it, shouting back:
- Zhen!

And on to the camp, where Zhen had to be... had to be. The homins guided him, ushered him into a tent and spoke kindly to him. It wasn't Zhen who was in front of him, but a matisse. He knew her... It was impossible to remember who she was or what her name was. Her voice was soft, enveloping, tender. Like a mother's voice. The mention of his mother made Haokan jump. He shouldn't be here! His Mi wouldn't be happy!

The hands around him became more constraining, forcing him to sit back down, then open his mouth to swallow the candy the matisse slid down his throat.

- Come on, Haokan, let yourself go... You'll see, everything will be better in a few moments," the Matisse whispered tenderly. You'll finally feel at peace... a deep peace.

Lulled by the hypnotic inflections and the discreet spell that chained him, Haokan finally gave in. Here, he was safe... here, with his zaki's family. And Zhen was coming. He'd be here when he woke up... then everything would be totally fine.]]>
<![CDATA[Karma Police]]> Mon, 25 Sep 2023 10:47:28 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Pe'anin is going from bad to worse, he has no idea where the boss has gone, he's scared of his allies as much as his enemies.

So when he receives a message from Rankwai, he takes the diversion with relief. They meet by a waterfall in the jungle. They chat, just like old times. The Zoraïe no longer seems to resent him. Her tattoo is still weird, but Kenny Mac'duncan has never really been interested in that sort of thing; he just sees that even if she's not completely "fine", it's still not as bad as the last time she saw him. I mean, last time she threatened to slice him up. So it's easy to do better.

She asks him if he still has any of the stuff the boss gave him. Kenny's no fool; he knows the boss wouldn't be happy if she took it back. It was a pain in the ass to get her to take it off the hook. Except that the boss isn't here. In fact, he'd like to escape to an artificial paradise, far away from all the bad things in this world.

But there's Pe'anin.

So he proposes a deal to the Zoraïe. His help in making the drug, in exchange for a nice product. After all, she's got the basics too, and maybe between the two of them, they'll be able to make the damn thing. Besides, Pe'anin will be happy to see the Zoraïe. Or not. Pe'anin's mood depends on the direction of the wind, and today it's blowing from the lakes, so she'll be grumpy.


The Zoraïe entrusted him with a letter. He told her he didn't know where the boss was, but she said, "I'm sure he'll come out at some point... If he doesn't, I haven't understood anything, in which case this message won't matter". Zoraïs, always saying the strangest things.

But Pe'anin is doing a little better. The medicine seems to have worked. Then the three of them got high, and it felt good. It's the only thing to do, anyway, at the moment.


The days go by, and look the same.

Then, suddenly, a black izam lands, delivering a terse message:

"Bring clean clothes to the marauding camp."

No signature. The izam is enough. Kenny hooting with joy. He's alive! He's back! He quickly gathers his belongings and leaps so fast that the teleportation fails twice. Then he pays more attention: it's hard to get back to camp without getting eaten.

He meets the boss in the laboratory he's set up here. But his good mood is slightly shattered by the state of the Zoraï. He's lost weight, his body seems to have new scars, and the state of his hands... Worse than that, Kenny almost finds him... fragile. He never shows the slightest weakness. But now he's showing his age, the boss...

Kenny is glad to have him back, though, and can't stop talking as he pulls things out of his bag, dusts off the dusty lab and tries to keep busy, because he knows the boss doesn't like slackers. The Zoraï is laconic. He asks about the tryker's stories, but doesn't say much about his own.

Kenny almost forgets the letter at the bottom of the bag, but fortunately his story reminds him. He holds it out to the Zorai, watching for his reaction as he reads it. Love letter? Break-up? Anything else? Difficult to know. The boss sighs, folds up the letter:
- I've got other priorities right now. I can't linger here, they'll be looking for me.
- Them? Who, boss?
- Nikuya and her fyros dog, Naveruss. Who else? I'm in no condition to put up with them.
- Did they kidnap you, then, boss? I was sure Nikuya was behind it, but she said she wasn't, and then nobody in the Theocracy had heard of anything, and...
- Quiet, now. Be quiet. Get your amps, you're coming with me. I'm going to need Serae Varnili first of all, except that getting to her is going to be quite an ordeal. For you and for me. So save your breath for the road.


Kenny isn't a very good magician. In fact, he's really bad. In fact, if they get away without being called back by the Powers That Be, it's only because they're lucky, but they're not getting anywhere. This makes the boss angry. He keeps looking at his surroundings, as if enemies are coming out of the next thicket.

- I'm going to strangle you if you don't try harder, Kenny. It's not that hard to heal with magic!
- Sorry, boss... I can't do it...

The tryker finally proposed timidly:
- How about Rankwai?
- The last thing I need is a crybaby in my boots, who might sell me out to my enemies!
- I'm sure she won't sell you, boss. What did the letter say?
- Nonsense. Toub, stop waking up all the ragus around here!

The ragus bites the two homins ferociously before they manage to break free. They drag themselves under a thicket, while their regeneration repairs most of the damage. And then, grumbling, the boss finally writes a message, sent by his little black izam.

- We're going to the kami teleporter... and hope she comes alone. And watch your step, you damn tryker!


Kenny sighs as he watches the reunion of the two Zoraïs. You'd have to be called Mac'duncan to see the love between these two, a modest love that hides behind cold pretences and pseudo-threats. But he knows. He knows that, despite his cynical airs, the boss is quite happy that the Zoraïe has come, and alone, and that he's worried about her, because of the faint odor he must be smelling, that of the product so pleasant to smoke. Kenny also knows that, despite his suspicious air and passive-aggressive remarks, the zoraïe is happy to see the boss again, worried about the state he's in, and that she's going to do everything she can to help him. Yeah, those two are true love, even if they'd never dare admit it publicly. He sighs again with a delighted look on his face; at this point, the two Zoraïs turn towards him, with the same look of exasperation, the same gesture suggesting that "enough is enough". They're really in symbiosis, there's no denying it.

Kenny bends down just in time to avoid the dagger the boss throws at him, more awkwardly than usual, then goes for it before handing it back with a big smile. Rankwai is not the type to throw daggers, fortunately.

- We're making progress," grumbles the Zorai. I won't be sorry to get rid of you two.


The Matis guards assemble as the small party arrives at their tribe. The boss moves towards them; the zoraïe and the tryker stand back. They both exchange a glance, and nothing more is needed. They don't like the area, and they like it even less. these matis-là, because the latter would have already bombarded them with spells, just for laughs, if they hadn't recognized the boss.

He chats with them for a while, before returning to his two acolytes:
- I'll be fine. Just go home. I'll have to stay here for a while.
- But... boss... What about Pe'anin?
- I can't do anything in this state, I have to look after myself before I can look after anyone else. You're on your own.

Then seeing the tryker ready to burst into tears, he exclaims exasperatedly:
- I need three or four days! If she dies before then, you know very well what you have to do.
- But I don't want her to die, boss... then I screwed everything up in your absence...
- You're on your own!

He returns to the camp, but turns around after a few steps, shouting angrily:
- One of the camp messengers will come and deliver a potion. Just stop crying, it's ridiculous!


The boss has finally returned to the camp where Pe'anin is based, after too many long days. He's feeling better. The matisse has put him back on his feet. Yesterday, he removed the bandages from his hands. They've been straightened and it's almost as if nothing had happened. Now he's smoking his pipe, finally a little quieter. Kenny finds his boss. Calm, collected, carefully considering what to do next.

As for Pe'anin, she too is... No, better, that's not the word. She's currently stupefied by one of the boss's drugs, so her screams don't wake the whole jungle. Kenny feels angry at those who deprived him of his boss, who are responsible, as a result, for the aggravation of the person he loves most in the world. The boss has told him it's only a matter of months now, that he has to make a decision, or give up. This makes Kenny sick.

- What are we going to do, boss?
- On what level?
- For the bad girls who hurt you.

The Zorai took a few puffs from his pipe before answering:
- Not much.
- But! It's not fair, boss!
- The world doesn't care about justice.
- But it's really not fair.

The tryker clenches his fists, swallows back his tears. Surely, he can't just go and kidnap Nikuya and Naveruss in turn and hurt them. And then he realizes that the boss is right, even if he could do it... it wouldn't change a thing. It would just mean more trouble. The bitterness and impotent anger he feels drives him mad.


Kenny has finally written something. He knows it's useless, but it's a relief.

It will display thisone night, in the cities of the Theocracy and the Empire...]]>
<![CDATA[The story of a decline]]> Wed, 30 Aug 2023 09:32:00 +0000 ROLEPLAY Journal d’Azazor

It's been a few days since I took the first Tao-Sian potion Nikuya gave me. Apart from the initial urge to vomit, I've had no particular side effects. I feel great, my mind is more or less at peace. I was even able to ensure Lyren's integration into the Legions right away, under the watchful eye of his mother. Nevertheless, I feel I could slip back into my paranoid state at any moment. There's usually a second potion, according to Eeri. I've written a message of thanks to Tao-Sian. And to think that in my madness, even she didn't trust me anymore. Fortunately, my faith in Eeri remained intact. But for how long if I hadn't been cured?
Journal d’Azazor
Yesterday, I met Canillia at Pecus. She spontaneously confessed that she had gone too far. She had prepared a remedy which she left on the floor before leaving. I asked the guards to burn it. Not that I don't think it's really a remedy, but not only do I no longer need it, I don't want anyone to know that Canillia knows the cure for black sap. I wouldn't want to advertise it to her!

Of course, I know why she came to see me in the first place. She denies it, but I know she's doing it because she's scared. She's probably hoping I'll be merciful? I assure you, Canillia, vengeance is no longer something I condone. But I do like to educate, inculcate I'd say, certain important things in other homins, even if they're Matis. Especially since, thanks to this black sap poisoning, I've found the courage (or madness) to abandon the kami's followers. I'm finally free of the Powers. So now it's my turn to help you. To show you what it's like to live without the Karavan. But I'll let you think about it first. Sometimes it takes a long time to find out...
<![CDATA[The love of madness]]> Tue, 22 Aug 2023 08:50:01 +0000 ROLEPLAY
All the same, Néjimbé couldn't help judging the irrationality of human beings and the tortuous way in which certain problems were approached. For the same price, she could come up with a number of far more reliable solutions, and it wasn't for want of having made a few suggestions to her sponsor. But she had *her* idea, and the fact that it was highly inefficient wasn't going to stop her.

Never negotiate for too long with madmen and criminals; this rule had saved the Company a lot of trouble over the years. Be a simple intermediary, a facilitator, but above all, never overcommit yourself. The Zoraïan in front of her wanted to complicate her life; that was her problem. Perhaps this was part of an even more twisted plan to muddy the waters. More than likely. The other was accustomed to calling on the most varied of mercenaries and taking rather improbable side roads.

The two Zoraïes chatting in the back room of the Dyron fortress were quite a contrast. Néjimbé, tall, calm, coldly professional, assuming her role as figurehead of the Company without a single quiver. And the sponsor, slender, small (for a Zoraïan), camouflaged in a cloak that made her more suspicious than anything else, wringing her hands in anxiety as she tackled the final details. However, this appearance of fragility was not to be trusted. This homine had been full of surprises over the years; her file occupied an entire trunk in the Company's archives, and despite this abundant literature, Néjimbé wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe the other would give up at the last minute. Or that she'd plunge a dagger into the back of the first person she met. Or an ally's. Or maybe, when the time came, she'd calmly and skilfully carry out what she'd planned. Maybe she'd work a mask over her mask. She was good at that. What was true about her? No idea, and it didn't matter, as long as the dappers, information and other payment methods arrived.

For all these uncertainties, the contract was a paving stone carefully detailing the most improbable aspects and limits of liability. These contracts were a lot of fun, and Néjimbé regretted that most homins didn't see the beauty of them, contenting themselves with skimming through them and signing them as if to get rid of a chore. At least this sponsor was taking her time, reading everything, questioning every detail:
- What if I can't get the... merchandise out in time?
- We could send you someone with the skills to conceal it, but his arrival would be noted and cast doubt on the rest of the operation. You'll easily find an excuse to get out of town with the parcels, provided we ask you for something. But you won't be asked, precisely because you're entitled to move them.
- And the... well... what's left at the destination... are you sure it will stand up to scrutiny?
- Yui and born. That's more than enough for most observers. Now, given who you're about to face... You'd better discourage him from looking too closely. We've done our best and remain on the lookout for a better opportunity, but the merchandise in question is really tricky to find in the condition requested. Of course, you'd be even better off not getting caught after this.

This was the point at which Néjimbé was willing to bet that the homine would blow the whole thing. Taking her to a place where no one would come looking for her, discouraging even any attempt to find her, was a complex undertaking. First and foremost, we had to rely on the lack of hominin perseverance, which is fortunately widespread. But they also had to rely on the fugitive's instinct for self-destruction, and in this case, they'd be dealing with a champion. Néjimbé had finally agreed to bet with Barakha this time. She was certain that once the merchandise was out of reach, the sponsor would refuse to go any further, under the most specious pretexts, and would wait trembling for someone to come and pick her, with all the inconvenience that would entail. Barakha had preferred to bet on the fact that the homins would quickly lose interest in the affair.

As for the rest, the homine had planned to disappear, and the chances of her coming to collect her merchandise were close to nil. She had left Nejimbé some latitude as to how to dispose of it, excluding some obvious uses but leaving other uses open. It would have been easy to simply resell the whole thing to the very person the zoraie wanted to fleece. Too easy, of course. But explicitly forbidden by the contract.

Néjimbé did, however, have someone else who would be a buyer, so unlikely that the sponsor hadn't even considered it. The Company's manager had asked Murmure and the Ancestor for confirmation, and both had loved the idea. All that remained was to convince the other organization to get involved and remain discreet.

The whole thing was an absolute shambles, and there were plenty of opportunities for secrets to be leaked, given the number of homins involved, and the reliability of some of the players too. But Zoraia was paying for it, and not just a little.

That was all that mattered.]]>
<![CDATA[akenakos at work!]]> Tue, 22 Aug 2023 00:15:09 +0000 ROLEPLAY
It was at Firal's side that she wandered through the shallows of Pyr. She knew the area, the stinking path hastily taken. "Avenue de cerakos", what a terrible name for this street. "Avenue de lykos" would have been more appropriate, she thought: old, dilapidated, inactive.
The area reeked, garbage of all kinds littered the streets, the atmosphere was austere and distrustful.

"Take off your akenakos badge, you could be in trouble!"

She would have been curious to see that. It would have been quite a ruckus, but she'd have got away with it, leaving behind a few broken arms, literally. But that wasn't really a desired objective, even if she would have enjoyed it, given the latest news. This new bad news offered a form of diversion, to clear her mind after such a terrible day.

"dey don't look! Someone might see us!" Lançaed firal as nave opened a bag of garbage on the floor, before quickly closing it again and plugging her nose. She contained the reflex to make a patty while her traveling companion made an outstretched salute to a gossip from an upstairs window.
The sinister visit ended there, and after the greetings naveruss went to her apartment... in thesos! True, the legions were located there, but that was hardly appropriate for an akenakos from pyr. She'd have to rectify that point too, especially as the guild hall was also used as a dormitory, all the more reason to dispense with on-site accommodation. So she added to her list of things to do, moving to pyr, not too close to the bar or the upper quarters.

So, in her apartment far away from this quagmire, she consulted amber cubes with all the notes taken during the visit, and three clear axes emerged from which came all the problems:
-Lack of jobs,
-Widespread decay.
These three problems were circular, communicating with each other, and amplifying each other in a deleterious spiral of inertia accelerating in the wrong direction. There was no point in deluding ourselves: it would be a great victory to neutralize the said inertia in ten years, so that things would stabilize and stop getting worse. And it would take a whole generation for things to improve, so how long will it take to fully restore these slums to their former glory?
"Bah all the more reason to get on with it now," thought the legionnaire with the solid discipline. One of her strengths, absolutely essential in this situation, was to tackle the problem head-on, without fear of the effort it would require.

Crime, the point with the simplest solutions. Already, there are two levels, with professional criminals above, bandit leaders, lieutenants and enforcers, and then below, delinquents who haven't yet got both feet in the door and still have a chance of getting out. The plan that emerges from the homine's military mind is simple:
-Put together a solid team of reliable legionnaires and patriots to deal with the head of crime, using all the force required. There'll be trouble, there'll be responses from the criminals, there'll be noise, and so much the better! The Celiakos will have their heads in the ramèch and won't be able to duck out, which will only bring more resources!
-And as for "petty delinquents", forced community service at the legions' expense. A kind of military service to reorient them, discipline them, train them in various practical skills, and turn these idle youths into an "elite" to counteract the harmful influences in these neighborhoods. Indeed, the priority was to protect young people from this environment and educate them so that they didn't keep it going in the wrong direction. This hard core of young delinquents she intends to train will be the ones who will have to sponsor the rest of the youth.

There, the question with the most accessible answer had been answered, now the rest. One of the problems of crime was corrupt guards, according to firal. In this case, the trick was to highlight the problem in the first place. The akenakos was going to put together a team of accomplices to tempt the guards into corruption, so as to enable her to identify them in collaboration with the chief of guards. She was going to make examples, straighten out these poor fyros and call them to order. She was also going to shake up the current organization of things with transfers and changes of posting so as not to leave undisciplined elements together, but rather mix them with reliable soldiers to bring them back into line. And lost causes, trash, they will serve as an example whose name will recall the decay of indiscipline until they do what's necessary to make up for it.

Now for the really complicated problems. General insalubrity and the lack of jobs were two complementary problems to be solved: recruiting and training craftsmen and workers to maintain the infrastructures would solve both problems. But the reality was that both problems, or rather all three, were compounded by the fact that crime was not going to be solved in a single year. Lack of employment led to idleness, which in turn led to crime, reducing the attractiveness of the slums and resulting in insalubrity and lack of activity. It was all part of a vicious circle, according to the young academics with whom Naveruss often worked to find solutions to his problems, for which blows from a sledgehammer were not enough.
It was a gigantic work of social and material renovation that had to be undertaken. It would require resources, tools and raw materials, as well as skilled workers. It was decided, this time naveruss would assemble a team of skilled craftsmen to train the inhabitants of these neighborhoods, and make sure they had everything they needed. It would obviously take a long time. Anyone who was born, raised and continues to live in the midst of crime does not become an honest patriot. But either way, she would initiate this project, which might not even be fully completed in her lifetime. Worse, it was likely to fail, this time in her lifetime, or afterwards with a gradual abandonment. But as the saying goes, she'll do whatever it takes.

That's it, everything's planned, enough thinking, now it's time to put it all into practice!]]>
<![CDATA[Letter to Tao Sian about the Headless Legionnaire.]]> Mon, 21 Aug 2023 06:15:04 +0000 ROLEPLAY For the time being, other concerns tormented the Dynastic Healer. She had analyzed this Fyros blood as soon as Nikuya had sent it to her. She knew that certain substances could disappear if you wait too long, and the letter from the Awakened had alerted her enough to want to know more.
What she had found had prompted her to ask Nikuya to carry out the analysis herself. Verification was essential.
Da'qi-zi's pearl was growing and she could see that the result would be the same. Nevertheless, she let Nikuya complete the ritual and weigh the two parts. The proportion was respected. The magic part was still good, but still nothing was going right.
"Your technique has improved again, Awakened. I'm very proud of you. Now, do you see anything wrong with the result?"
Nikuya took the time to carefully examine the pearl between her chopsticks.
"It's dark, darker than usual, but I don't know if that's abnormal or just a variation I've never encountered before.
- Take a look. Here's the pearl I got with the fresher sample. Yes, the pearl is noticeably darker overall. See these black streaks? It's not Evil. It doesn't cause these black streaks. No, it has to be this."
Tao-Sian held out a stanza in which rested a Da'qi-zi pearl, the darkest Nikuya had ever seen.
"Black sap."
The sentence fell from Tao-Sian's lips like a cleaver, leaving Nikuya speechless.]]>
Chronicles Of Atys
<![CDATA[L'étude des symboles ou la symbologie.]]> Sun, 06 Aug 2023 18:28:00 +0000 ROLEPLAY its poisoning to the black sap, it became increasingly difficult for him to sit down quietly to think and write. Fortunately, most of the writing was done on his return from the trip. on the road to Oflovak. All that remained was a few adjustments here and there.

Here it is at last, his fifth volume on symbology. A complete, coherent theory on the creation of Atys, on the nature of the Powers and on the why of homins. A whole theory based on the study of the symbols we see when we do magic. Of course, there are still many hypotheses that need to be backed up by evidence. But that's how he's chosen to proceed. By trial and error.

He therefore submitted his work to the Imperial Academy, along with a duplicate to the N'ASA. He knows that what he says inside will earn him enmity. But never mind, let them come and get him. He's in the mood to massacre fyrak with bare hands.

Volume 5 on symbology.]]>
<![CDATA[no arms, no....]]> Sun, 16 Jul 2023 19:57:17 +0000 ROLEPLAY
He sat down. The name of the youngest daughter's father would have to wait. At least she'd learn that he was a Fyros warrior, someone Eeri held in the highest regard. He wasn't Jo the bum, far from it. But she'd have to wait to find out more.

He ordered shooki, knowing he couldn't go wrong with it. The youngest fetched some capryni milk and began pouring it into her mug, under Eeri's incensed gaze. A whole new education," said the second. You should have been there," said the first.

He didn't seem to react to these demonstrations of love between mother and daughter. Feelings don't do any good.

He asked for news of the trip. He'd already read the diary the two fyros had written and published, but was eager to know more about what hadn't been written. Among other things, how she had really fared in the citadel, the reason for her miraculous escape. Why they had accepted Azazor and not Eeri.

He saw for himself the state of his former apprentice, and listened with interest to what she told him about her rescue by the members of the Karavan over there. A Karavan unable to repair their bodies and seeds of life so damaged by hours of agony.

He smiled. This was something that rarely happened to him. He smiled when she asked if he could try something. His years of work on the seed of life, his experience treating homins damaged by goo, could well lead to a result.

He accepted, at first showing a facade of reluctance to mask both his pride and an uncertainty he would never admit to.

He also eyed the younger woman warily. Was she going to do everything in her power to prevent him from carrying out an attempt to restore the use of his arm to his former apprentice? A hominin offering herself as a guinea pig, with the aim of advancing science, a rare, dreamed-of opportunity.

He explained that such an attempt would be painful and time-consuming, requiring several months of preparation and experimentation before it could be carried out successfully. The closer he would have to get to the hominin seed of life, the riskier the operation.

He sighed. Clearly, if he was going to treat the mother, he'd have to deal with the daughter, who wouldn't forgive him the slightest mistake. Then, inwardly trying not to let on, he shrugged. If advancing science could never be done without some sort of threat, then so be it. It wouldn't change his daily life.]]>
<![CDATA[Temptation]]> Tue, 11 Jul 2023 22:11:13 +0000 ROLEPLAY
But he's not happy about it. Emotions overwhelm him and he bursts into tears when he arrives at the camp. The others look at him with a mixture of disgust and exasperation: it's not done to show your feelings like that. When you're lucky enough to be part of the Black Circle, you remain dignified in all circumstances. Or austere. Or intimidating. In any case, you avoid being snotty by throwing a hissy fit. He has an excuse, he's not completely part of the tribe... he's just an underling tolerated because useful on occasion.

Kenny knows he's got a long way to go before he can be like the big homins here. In the meantime, he lets his emotions run wild.

They dared to threaten Pe'anin... These ragus of nations! Those monsters! So eager to destroy and do harm! He saw again the lacerated mask of the Awakened One, heard her falsely compassionate tone, full of underlying threats. Maybe he could have been fooled, a few years earlier. But since then, he's heard plenty of stories about the terrible Nikuya, and he knows how she betrayed the boss, again and again, every time he gave her a chance.

Yet there's this little seed of doubt deep inside him. Could it be true that Tao Sian is trying to cure Pe'anin? But no, not a chance; the powerful of this world are only interested in her to better destroy her boss, they've never helped otherwise.

And the boss has to be better than Tao Sian. He's the best. Although, the Healer is one of the few people the boss admires... But, no!

Pe'anin can no longer be saved, at least not with conventional methods; all that matters is to push back the deadline, to gather what it takes to, perhaps, attempt something that hasn't been done for a century. He's seen the documents and taken part in some of the boss's experiments. If there's anything to bet on, it's this. But it's so uncertain.

Kenny is in torment. He blames the Awakened One for his proposal, knowing full well it's a trap. He knows it, and yet... If there was a chance of another solution...

And then there's the Commander's challenge. He heard it well before the pact took effect. Should he pass it on to the boss? The Zorai won't like it... And above all, Kenny's going to get an earful for being so stupidly cornered and for talking too much. But he's got no choice but to take responsibility, because the boss will hear about it.

At times like these, it takes all the will in the world not to dip into the stuff he's supposed to deliver here and there.]]>
<![CDATA[journal de AELYNE fille de Pom et d'un inconnu]]> Tue, 04 Jul 2023 12:36:42 +0000 ROLEPLAY Peatpom <![CDATA[Desert Gazette N°21]]> Thu, 29 Jun 2023 19:10:20 +0000 ROLEPLAY independent that only its readers can buy.

So it's with a certain pride that he hands a stack to each bartender in the Empire, starting with Pecus. Then, with another stack under his arm, he heads off to the bark, greeting the crowd.

Ask for issue 21 of the Desert Gazette, Atys' most fyros-rich newspaper!]]>
<![CDATA[Between three eyes]]> Tue, 27 Jun 2023 06:03:01 +0000 ROLEPLAY - Ah dey !! You stay away from him! Take care of your son !!

The two homines had left the Fraider camp in the early hours of the morning. Lyren spoke, with a touch of pride, of all those she'd met on the bark, and especially of all those who knew Eeri. But now, no, no, and no. Eeri kept herself from grumbling, but she knew that the Zoraï would pay her a visit sooner or later. Now she had to choose between greeting him with a dagger to thank him for all the bad advice he'd given her, or forgetting the past and seeing if he still had something to teach her. Perhaps it would simply be safer for her to stay away for now, until she could learn more about his possible recent exploits. Lyren snapped her out of her thoughts.

- I forgot, with all that. The fyros and Trykers are preparing a water route. Perhaps you could take advantage of one of the caravans to travel...?
- I know, ney. But everyone will be there...
- Now's the time to show your face. They're just friends !

Eeri sighed, and looked at Lyren with tenderness. He must have been portrayed as a confident, fearless and determined warrior. The hominin who had returned from the Old Lands was very different, still ruminating on the mistakes that had nearly cost them their lives..

- I'm lucky to be back, but I don't deserve all this..
- What don't you deserve? To be reunited with your family?
- No doubt.

Lyren stopped, took out her water bottle and took a sip. The two homines had almost reached Thesos. She handed her gourd to Eeri and stared into his single eye..

- All right, then. If you don't deserve this, there's still time to turn back. I won't force you.

Eeri hesitated, disconcerted.

- Otherwise, there's also what others deserve. Uzykos, to be reunited with his mother. Wixarika, to rest after replacing you all these years. The drakani, to see you again after hoping every day that you'd come back alive... And I deserve to know where I come from....
- okal, okal, let's go! But you're not leaving me alone, are you??
- You mean... That I don't act like my mother?]]>
<![CDATA[Loyal sujet de sa majesté]]> Wed, 21 Jun 2023 08:29:04 +0000 ROLEPLAY Somewhere on Atys...

A few seasons ago, I saw Father for the first time. He came to see me directly at my mistress Canillia's house when she wasn't there. He pounded on the door until it was opened. I didn't know who this tall fyros with the horrible burned face was. He looked all over the apartment until he came across my face, while I was hiding behind some cushions with Grandma Lea. He threw a punch at one of the servants who tried to intervene, and took me on his back like a sack of food. Mamie Léa protested, and he calmed her down by shouting that I was his daughter and that he was freeing me. He then ran off, with me on his back, while the Yrkanis guards chased after us..

His daughter. My father.

But no.

Once he'd managed to lose the guards in the forest, he put me down and smiled at me. A sad smile. He may have looked scary, but when I saw that smile, I knew he wouldn't hurt me. So he talked to me. He told me everything.

His lie. About my discovery by the Rangers along the Oflovak road not far from Silan, about his plan with Galdor to make me believe I was his daughter and manipulate me into spying on the Matis, about his remorse ever since. I've cried, I've screamed, I think I've even insulted him. Yet years of indoctrination at Ore Altae had taught me to contain my rage. But now I knew I could let it all out. And it felt good. For him too. Then he looked at me one last time and said something I'll never forget:

"You have fulfilled your duty with Honor and Discipline. Now that you know the Truth, it is right that you should be free at last. So go, Be'Lauren. Take the path you want."

So I chose. And so here I am among you, dear friends, at Sombres Rives, free at last to follow my own path....]]>
<![CDATA[A Wanderer Returns]]> Sun, 11 Jun 2023 00:23:14 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Myfanwy sat in her apartment with her two retainers Jimjam and Nylaa.
They spoke quietly amongst themselves, overwhelmed with sadness at the loss of so many brother and sister Marauders. It was especially hard because most had not been lost gloriously in battle but subverted by other factions whilst some had just wandered off into the wilderness to never return.

Jimjam was aware the last eighteen months had been particularly hard on Myf, before joining Shadowalkers they were both used to being on their own. Jimjam enjoyed the fact that Myf depended on him for support and protection but it hadn’t begun that way when her father first employed him to be her bodyguard.
Jimjam, a hard-bitten Fryos Marauder with a bad attitude, had expected a spoilt and entitled young Tryker but had discovered a tough, persistent warrior. Tiny as she was, Myf fought like she was 10 foot tall which often got her into strife but that was what he was employed for.
The relationship they developed was one of big brother, little sister and he became ‘her JJ’. He was proud of how far she had come and daily mentally thanked his countryman, fellow Marauder and her mentor Carl, who had taught her to fight and survive the wilds of Atys.

Nylaa looked sadly at Myf, she wished there was some way to help her through this debilitating sorrow that had overtaken her. Stars above! Myfawny was harvesting and foraging! The one thing Nylaa NEVER imagined her fierce mistress to partake in and an indication of just how unlike herself Myf really was.
Nylaa hadn’t been part of this small group long, Myf and JJ had found her outside of Zora half starved and almost dead from a gingo attack. They had fed her, healed her wounds and taken care of her which was a shock as her people, the Zorai, had always said that Marauders were bandits and killers.
For those actions Myf had earnt Nylaa’s undying devotion so Nylaa appointed herself as Myf’s maid, healer, cook and anything else her mistress required.
Nylaa thought she got so much more out of the exchange than she herself gave, especially when Myf and JJ began training her, becoming a Marauder with them wasn’t a difficult decision, to her it was inevitable.

Myf’s heart was full of grief, mourning the loss of her brothers and sisters consumed her; hour after hour, day after day, week after week, she’d lost track of how much time had passed. Digging holes in the ground for materials she’d probably never need seemed the right type of pointless activity to deal with her grief.
Relaxing by the fire in her apartment after a hard day of toil felt good. Looking at JJ & Nylaa, she realised they were more than retainers and companions, they were her family and she loved them dearly for remaining at her side.

“Hsst!” JJ held up a fisted hand for silence, well drilled in his hand signals both Myf & Nylaa were instantly quiet. “I hear voices” he whispered. Both Myf and Nylaa exchanged glances and looked to JJ. “Let’s investigate, Myf behind me, Nylaa healing. Nylaa, if Myf & I fall run to Carl’s apartment as fast as you can and wait for his return so you can tell him what happened”.
JJ’s instructions reflected the sad reality of life in the Marauder camp, they were very vulnerable to attack from other factions when their numbers were so low.

The small team crept down the hallway, weapons at the ready until they reached the door the voices were coming from. JJ put his ear to the door & listened, after a short time a broad grin broke out on his face. Myf’s eye’s widened and her heart raced as she prepared for the attack while Nylaa stepped back until she hit the opposite wall and readied her spells.
JJ knocked on the door, “Why is he knocking! He’s warning them!” Myf thought to herself when the door opened a little and an eye could be seen peering through at them. The eye widened at the same time as the door to reveal a beautiful woman, heavily armed “What do you three want?”.

JJ took a step back, an offensive spell at the ready (though if his instincts were correct it wouldn’t be needed), as Myf moved forward and bowed “Hello, my name is Myfanwy, these are my friends Jimjam and Nylaa.” Looking into the apartment, Myf could see another woman also heavily armed. “You both better be Marauders or you have just opened this door to your deaths.”]]>
<![CDATA[« kün geyum » Récit du voyage sur la route d’Oflovak jusqu’à Coriolis]]> Tue, 30 May 2023 13:48:40 +0000 ROLEPLAY ]]> Canillia <![CDATA[One last (lucky) node of raw materials]]> Tue, 09 May 2023 06:35:50 +0000 ROLEPLAY
On one night, much like any other. Continuous sound of pickaxe echoes as one forager is working perhaps a bit too long into the night. Her goals are yet again set slightly too high compared to reality and so she keeps working and working, one swing of a pickaxe at time.

As the night advances she has trouble to keep her eyes open and wouldn't you guess that's when the raw material source starts to go unstable. Such rush of emotions makes her jump far down into the sand pit and to wait for the unavoidable exposion


As the explosion rumbled the ground, something else fell too

"Cherkin the forager killer! It must have attacked me right as I jumped. It took the full force of the raw material sources explosion"


"I'll finish just this node and then it must be time to get some sleep"

(( I forgot it wasnt night in the picture but I wrote the story already :D ))

<![CDATA[petit clin d oeil de Ciboulette]]> Mon, 17 Apr 2023 08:20:13 +0000 ROLEPLAY Canillia <![CDATA[Parfois, il est bon d'être rapide...]]> Tue, 28 Mar 2023 19:39:02 +0000 ROLEPLAY
- Il n'est pas toujours mauvais d'être rapide, pas si mauvaiiiiiis !

Il était pourtant parti pour le faire sans fausse note, mais ayant croisé le regard courroucé d'une vieille femme, il n'avait pu résister au plaisir de susciter une vraie grimace avant qu'elle ne se sauve aussi vite que sa dignité le lui permettait.

Ce qui lui inspira une seconde chanson sur le thème du bonheur à chanter faux. Ça ne rimait pas et c'était encore plus discordant, les paroles n'avaient aucun sens, et il se marrait comme un fou. Il failli rater ce qu'il guettait :

- Gné! Fei? c'est toi ?

Une voix venue du haut de la tour. Bon, il était réveillé. Mais c'était vraiment haut... Le tryker observa un moment l'édifice, notant les possibles prises. Absolument escaladable pour qui ne craignait pas de se rompre le cou, et qui craignait ça avec l'attention que les Puissances accordait à chaque homin ? Sauf que ces temps-ci, elles semblaient un peu taquines avec lui. Non, pour une fois, prendre l'ascenseur semblait plus pertinent. Et moins fatiguant. Il répondit donc :

- Ouais ! Je demande aux gardes de m'ouvrir ?

Délaissant son instrument de musique malmené, il s'approcha du garde qui gardait l'ascenseur. Comme prévu, ce dernier ne semblait pas motivé pour laisser Feinigan aller rejoindre son ami, mais après quelques discussions et un échange de dappers, le gardien se décida à laisser passer le chanteur et à lui ouvrir la porte donnant sur la cellule de Zhen.

Cela faisait quelques semaines à présent que le pauvre zoraï croupissait dans ce trou à rat... rectification, dans cette cage dorée.

S'il avait fallu établir un classement des prisons d'Atys, Feinigan n'aurait pas hésité un instant sur l'ordre. En première place, les prisons trykers, qui semblait toujours coupables de priver de liberté. Puis les zoraïes, d'une propreté rigoureuse bien qu'un peu austères. Ensuite ex-aequo, fyros et matis pouvaient aller de "déprimantes" à "désagréables" suivant le crime dont on était accusé et l'humeur des gardes, mais étaient généralement un cran au dessus des prisons de guildes, où l'absence de contrôle menait aux pires abus. Loin dans le classement, il y avait toutes les méthodes de contention des tribus et des maraudeurs, qui ne s'embarrassaient pas souvent de murs mais trouvaient d'autres façons de contraindre les corps. Et en dernière place, il y avait les raffinements déments de quelques sadiques. Pour avoir fait toute la gamme à un moment ou un autre de sa vie, Feinigan savait que "prison tryker" équivalait à un camp de vacances... mais là, ça atteignait un niveau inédit. Certes, c'était relativement lumineux grâce aux petites fenêtres sur les murs (trop petites pour laisser passer un tryker, surtout avec les barreaux artistiquement ouvragés) et d'une taille convenable, ce qui correspondait à ses souvenirs. Mais il ne se souvenait pas des montagnes de coussins, des couvertures chamarrées, des cubes d'ambres et des boîtes de bonbons. En fait, l'endroit aurait pu être un appartement tryker un peu sobre. Cette prison était le top absolu ; ça aurait presque valu la peine de se faire emprisonner.

Zhen, torse nu et négligement affalé sur la literie, avait l'air de s'ennuyer avec la grâce insolente d'une œuvre d'art. Il était content d'avoir un peu de compagnie. Ce n'était pas qu'il en aie tant manqué ces derniers jours ; Haokan semblait avoir pris comme mission sacré de ne pas quitter Zhen des yeux un seul instant. Feinigan en était presque jaloux. Lui aussi avait participé aux réjouissances et rien, même pas un avis de recherche ! Il s'était fait tout petit sans raison... Et il allait quand même continuer quelques temps à se faire (relativement) discret, au cas où tout cela ne serait qu'un stratagème. S'il était là aujourd'hui, c'est qu'il profitait des guerres kamis qui recommençaient et qui avaient contraint Haokan à délaisser sa garde attentive pour aller combattre des karavaniers.

Zhen et Feinigan discutèrent un bon moment, échangeant potins, stratagèmes et bonbons. Le Zoraï n'était pas seulement bien traité, il était chouchouté par Haokan qui abusait allègrement de sa position de lieutenant de Bai Trykali ; et si personne n'y redisait quoi que ce soit, c'était peut-être parce que cela ne suffisait pas complètement à contenter Zhen, qui souffrait terriblement de sa privation de liberté. D'une façon ou d'une autre, ça ne durerait plus ; soit les trykers se décidaient à libérer l'Illuminé, soit Feinigan le ferait sortir autrement. Sauf que cela risquait d'énerver Haokan pour de bon. Pour une fois, les deux compères prenaient leur mal en patience, espérant un dénouement qui ne leur aliènerait pas leur zaki².

Mais l'heure tournait et aucune bataille n'était éternelle. Il était temps de rentrer avant qu'Haokan ne revienne et supprenne le tryker ici. Il risquait de ne pas vouloir le laisser repartir.

Sûr de lui, Feinigan appela le garde. Ce dernier arriva en traînant des pieds, puis sans ouvrir la porte, déclara qu'il allait falloir rester un peu plus.

- Un peu plus ? Comment ça, un peu plus ? J'ai des trucs urgents à faire !
- Ben, c'est les ordres...
- Les ordres ? Quels ordres ?
- Les ordres que quand quelqu'un nous paie pour accéder à la prison, il doit rester jusqu'à ce qu'un officier décide de son sort...

Un court instant, Feinigan laissa son sourire s'évaporer. Depuis quand un aimable pot-de-vin était traité ainsi ? Il tenta de négocier encore un peu, mais cette fois les dappers ne suffirent pas à ouvrir la porte. Il fallait se rendre à l'évidence.

Il se retourna vers Zhen, souriant de nouveau pleinement :
- Bon, tu sais quoi ? Finalement, je vais te tenir compagnie un peu plus longtemps !

<![CDATA[Reports to the Academy / Bericht an die Akademie]]> Mon, 27 Feb 2023 20:21:50 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Abstract: The recent attacks on travellers and merchants by usually harmless flora and fauna in a part of the Grove of Confusion initiated an expedition into the region to uncover the cause, which in turn led to the finding of a Karavan artifact.

Recently, the unusual and aggressive behaviour or yelks and other placid animals and even slaveni north of Westgrove Stronghold had Beero Antozzo, the leader of the Sap Slaves in the Grove of Confusion giving a report and searching help in the Royal Palace. Merchants and travellers were attacked by them in that part of our Kingdom, which, at the best of times, isn't a place you'd take your loved ones for a quiet and peaceful walk. Our Royal Highness, alarmed by the report, promised help. He set up an expedition to the camp of the Sap Slaves, from which on the Royal Hunter, Ser Tinanio Stado, joined the group. Beero Antozzo had reasonably little knowledge to share. The reports stemmed from the north of the Grove, probably near the entrance to the tunnel leading to Silan, but he didn't have enough soldiers to explore or traverse the maze. So it was pretty clear that this was a main obstacle the expeditioneers had to face.

And indeed, the expeditioneers soon faced adversity, if only the kind which was expected, namely cuttlers and jugulas. At the rangers camp near Westgrove, Bini Zhui-Hio of the rangers had little to add to what the expeditioneers already heard, but sent them up further north. So the group continued its journey, passing the rare sight of a Kipesta nest (not without a fight), but finding nothing unusual. The author, after entering Highgrove, raised the question of what might be responsible for herbivores running amuk and suggested some kind of signal or sound. But the expeditioneers, and Tinanio Stado, heard nothing, and at that point everything seemed to be more of a tall tale, not least since not much more "north" could be reached from here, and every agressive animal encountered yet was a carnivore – of which there are plenty there.

Alas, as if waiting for the right dramatic moment, the expedition was suddenly attacked by unusually strong slaveni, which they overpowered. But the next encounters were, again, more of the usual kind - a kincher patrol (which put the expedition almost in real peril), the Madding Maids, and more cuttlers. Just when the group left Highgrove, it suddenly was attacked by first mad yelks and then crazy aranas, and by then it became clear that there indeed is a mystery to solve and a reason to detect.

At Eastgrove Stronghold, the group met a hawker, who complained about the maddened animals further east. He also mentioned that, when going there, he's getting a headache after a while - which was the first real indication of indeed something preying on the minds of the fauna.

So the expedition went east back into the maze, trying to explore each corner there while fighting many ocyx, until it discovered a madakam, who, like some of the other herbivores on the way, attacked it at sight. After the madakam was struck down, Tinanio Stado with his sharp eyes spotted something in the corner the madakam obtained; a strange object, rectangular, upright, rather flat. A slight, sizzling sound was audible. By close view, the object – which seemed to be very old - showed the sign of the Karavan.

It was decided to take this artifact, with all care, back to Yrkanis. Tinanio Stado did put it carefully in his bag - after all, it was him who was ordered by the Karin to take care of the expedition - but I offered to take it over if he feels any effect; after all, the artifact seemed to have been responsible for the irrational behaviour of flora and fauna. I then kept the Royal Hunter under close observation while he was carrying the artifact. He claimed that he has the feeling someone is playing the lute on his spine. I also observed that he was constantly gnashing his teeth, which probably implies that the artifact tried to influence his mind, as it did with the animals and plants.

The expedition fought its back to the Sap Slavers camp for a report, meeting, though, no further unusually behaving animals but just the regular carnivore fauna. There the Karavan Ambassador did spot the artifact, took a close view and informed us that he has to confiscate it. In a kind of cross-examination from the expeditioneers, he told the expedition that this is an ancient Karavan item which was corrupted. He said that it moved its way up to the surface of Atys from the deep of the roots. When I asked him how it came to be in the depths, forbidden to explore, in the first place, he could give no answers and only muttered that it "fell down". He also said that he could not give us more information. When pressed, he did say, though, that he will report to the Karan.

As Tinanio Stado followed the orders of the Karin and therefore had all responsibility – and authority – regarding the artifact, I felt not empowered to claim the finding for further study in the Academy under secure conditions. The artifact, as it is, now rests with the Karavan.

I would like to suggest to the Academy to await the report of the Karavan. I would also like to suggest a medical examination of Ser Tinanio Stado to make sure he’ll not suffer any late effects. ]]>
<![CDATA[album photo]]> Mon, 27 Feb 2023 15:24:27 +0000 ROLEPLAY Si un(e) homin(e) veut être dans l'album , contactez moi ig :) ou sur rc :)]]> Eleanide <![CDATA[Héritage]]> Sun, 22 Jan 2023 21:36:48 +0000 ROLEPLAY
Tout était en place. Tout ce qu’il devait faire avait été fait. Il n’y avait plus qu’à agir, à donner le coup d’envoi. Le plan était simple dans sa mise en œuvre, complexe dans ses implications ; au-delà d’un certain stade, il se refusait à prédire quoi que ce soit. Mais les chances qu’il avait de s’en sortir vivant étaient, quoi qu’il arrive, extrêmement faibles. Alors, quitte à mourir, autant le faire d’une façon qui aurait un peu d’impact. Un sacrifice n’a aucune utilité s’il se fait discrètement.

Il se demandait si les deux fyrettes avaient transmis son « offre ». Probablement pas. Quand bien même, aucun risque que Nikuya et les siens acceptent. Ça ne méritait pas de s’y attarder…

Repenser aux messagères lui remémora Eeri. Quel dommage que la fyrette ait croisé son chemin si tard ; mais leur collaboration avait été fructueuse. Eeri avait eu une belle vie, elle avait même trouvé le temps de faire des enfants, ce qui montrait quelle homine de valeur elle était. Et à présent elle était en route pour rencontrer les anciens compagnons de Mazé'yum, pour leur faire passer son héritage. Il espérait qu’ils lui feraient bon accueil… et qu’elle arriverait à les rejoindre. Jusque là, son trajet semblait se dérouler sans problème majeur. Un petit sourire se dessina sur son masque en se remémorant la lettre qu’elle lui avait envoyée. L’humour particulier de la fyros avait frappé : tous les coursiers avaient eu l’occasion de voir cette feuille en apparence blanche, le courrier ayant évidemment été ouvert à un moment ou un autre de la route. Mais personne ne l’avait « lu ». Du reste ce qui était écrit, une fois l’encre révélée, n’était rien d’important : juste les grandes lignes du voyage jusqu’à Fort-le-Phare. Il espérait qu’elle aurait le bon sens de se débarrasser de certaines de ses marchandises avant d’aller plus loin. La bombe à goo, surtout. La fyrette avait été têtue et avait refusé d’entendre que ce n’était pas une monnaie d’échange mais plutôt une potentielle déclaration de guerre et les Maraudeurs se montreraient un peu plus tatillons que les Rangers. En attendant, ce courrier l’avait fait rire, parce que c’était une façon absolument parfaite de mettre en application certaines de ses leçons. Comment dire que son compagnon est un bodoc qui ne regarde pas plus loin que son nez ? Que les homins rencontrés jusque là sont une bande de naïfs imbéciles et inoffensifs ? Que cette partie du voyage s’est révélée étonnamment facile pour la guerrière ? Tout simplement en envoyant une lettre si blanche qu’elle aurait dû paraître suspecte à toute personne de bon sens, au lieu de cacher son véritable texte en écrivant par-dessus des banalités à l’encre ordinaire. Certes, tout ça pour coucher sur le papier des poncifs quand même, ce qui était aussi une preuve du génie de la fyrette ; si quelqu’un avait révélé l’encre, alors un autre message aurait été transmis, celui selon lequel les homins de la Route n’étaient pas si idiots. Vraiment l’une de ses meilleures élèves. Si seulement ils pouvaient tous être comme elle… mais, dans les jeunes, tous étaient un peu idiots.

En même temps, à leur âge, il ne brillait pas par son esprit non plus. Plus que certains, certes ; jamais il n’avait atteint l’insondable stupidité capricieuse de Nikuya par exemple. Mais il avait tout de même fait son lot de bourdes et pris son temps pour comprendre des leçons qui, aujourd’hui, lui semblaient d’une évidence absolue. Son maître avait été d’une grande patience… Raison pour laquelle il essayait aussi d’être patient avec ses élèves, même si l’envie était parfois grande de les plonger dans la goo et de les laisser s’y décomposer. Certains avaient peu de chance d’aller loin, d’autres finiraient probablement par faire une bêtise qui leur vaudrait une mort stupide et douloureuse, trop tôt pour avoir accompli quoi que ce soit. Mais peut-être que dans le lot, l’un d’eux se révélerait au fil du temps, reprendrait son héritage, et amènerait la science et l’hominité dans son ensemble à un nouveau stade.

Une grande partie de son savoir était actuellement disséminé un peu partout sur l’Écorce. L’en déloger serait comme d’essayer d’enlever tous les exemplaires d’une plante : un long travail qui ne pourrait jamais être achevé avec certitude. La Karavan allait bien finir par tomber dessus et les adeptes des Kamis découvrir le pot aux rosaes. Mais lorsque ce serait le cas, il serait trop tard. Les Trytonnistes avaient la clé, ainsi que quelques homins des Nouvelles Terres, et bientôt peut-être les gens des Anciennes Terres. Ni le feu, ni la goo, ni la traque ne détruiraient tous les exemplaires ; et même si tous les initiés venaient à disparaître, n’importe quel curieux pouvait redécouvrir le secret. Ce savoir n’était qu’un jalon sur la longue route menant l’hominité à sa délivrance et à sa survie, et peut-être que cela ne suffirait pas à faire face à la catastrophe qui s’annonçait, mais il avait fait de son mieux ; il aurait juste aimé avoir quelques années encore pour affiner le travail, pour transmettre plus.

Avoir atteint un âge aussi avancé que le sien tenait du miracle à bien des égards. Les Pourpres dépassaient rarement la cinquantaine, pour les plus chanceux. Il s’était toujours montré prudent, maniéré même pour certains… qui étaient morts aujourd’hui, tandis que lui avait survécu. Il avait pris des risques calculés tout au long de son existence, tout en n’hésitant pas à recourir aux solutions extrêmes lorsque cela semblait pertinent. Il était à l’aube d’une grande découverte, il était certain d’arriver d’ici quelques décennies à peine à déverrouiller certains aspects de la graine de vie, mais il était improbable qu’on lui laisse le temps d’achever ces recherches. Tout ça pour quoi ? Pour une gamine qu’il avait surestimée. Son désir de trouver des légataires parmi les Antekamis, sa tribu natale, l’avait aveuglé. Un sentimentalisme stupide, une envie idiote de prouver que cette sève valait mieux que ce que tout le monde en pensait. Mais ce n’était pas le cas. Le monde avait raison, les Antekamis ne produisaient que des dégénérés, à peine capables d’être des outils le temps d’une mission ; la folie était inscrite dans leur culture, et il fallait en extraire les jeunes bien plus tôt pour avoir une chance de les faire changer de destin. Nikuya et Nokkuya venaient d’une bonne lignée, de kwai forts, indestructibles ou presque, elles lui avaient donné l’illusion d’être plus intelligentes que la moyenne ; mais il les avait eus trop tard pour les sauver. Bien trop tard. Nokkuya encore n’était pas si mauvaise ; un peu paresseuse peut-être, trop portée sur la violence aveugle et les drogues comme les autres de sa tribu, et définitivement trop loyale à sa sœur, mais elle faisait une assistante acceptable. Mais Nikuya… rien à faire. Cela enrageait Mazé'yum de se remémorer cette longue trajectoire aboutissant en cul-de-sac. Jamais il n’avait toléré tant de bêtises de la part de quelqu’un ; résultat, la petite ingrate n’avait rien appris et pensait que le monde se plierait à ses désirs éternellement. Il aurait dû lui donner une vraie leçon dès la première fois, mais à l’époque Gia’suki avait tellement plaidé en sa faveur qu’il avait passé l’éponge. Après cela, l’Antekamie était devenue kamiste, Éveillée même, et cela durait un peu trop pour mettre ça sur le compte d’une rébellion adolescente. Elle lui avait créé des soucis avec les Pourpres, avec Gami, avec les Maraudeurs, évidemment avec la Théocratie aussi ; il avait passé plus de temps à réparer ses erreurs qu’à travailler sur ses propres projets. Et elle n’avait rien appris. Rien.

Ce qu’il sermonnait à tous ses apprentis, et qu’aucun ne voulait entendre, c’est que toute chose devait être payée. Agir avait un prix ; rester inactif en avait un aussi. Quelqu’un payait, toujours. Parfois le tarif n’était pas très élevé, parfois celui qui payait n’était pas celui qui avait initié l’action, mais il y avait toujours un moment où il fallait payer. Cette fois, lui-même devrait payer le fait d’avoir été si laxiste avec Nikuya, et elle paierait le prix de ses inconséquences. Et beaucoup, beaucoup de gens paieraient avec eux…]]>
<![CDATA[Faisons la paire]]> Tue, 17 Jan 2023 11:37:23 +0000 ROLEPLAY
« Vauban ! Approche que je te salue comme tu le mérite ! »

« Ser, allez-vous barricader dans l’arbre-maison naete. Apparemment cet individu me cherche et me connait. Mettez-vous à l’abri avec lumenima. Je m’en charge. »

La voix de Vauban était étonnamment posée pour une situation que nombre d’homins trouverait stressante. L’homin en noir était encore à bonne distance mais s’approchait de plus en plus rapidement. Tout en ne le lâchant pas du regard, Vauban alla s’équiper d’un nouveau bouclier, un Kara Takod cette fois, une paire de dagues vivantes attachées à l’arrière de sa ceinture. Il jugea de nouveau la distance entre lui et l’inconnu qui faisait maintenant de petite foulée, toujours en aboyant des phrases provocantes. Il fixa dans son dos une rondache vivante avant de penser tout haut en terminant de s’équiper.

« Ma fidèle Kara Klyde ne me fera pas défaut face à… certainement un ktheros trop zélé. »

Alors qu’il était en course, Kessler saisit des deux mains sa hachette qui était attachée dans le dos. Il leva les bras jusqu’à avoir la hachette à l’arrière de sa tête, puis s’arrêta net pour viser et lancer la hachette en direction de Vauban.

« Réveille-toi mon frère ! »

Vauban dévia la hachette fyros sans difficulté d’un coup de bouclier. Il en profita pour sortir sa Klyde de son fourreau et se mettre en garde.

« Tu es vif c’est bien… mais est-ce que ton bouclier va continuer à te protéger contre ma massue ?! »

La phrase à peine terminée, la massue déjà dans ses mains, Kessler portait le premier coup, puissant et droit en direction du Takod de Vauban, déterminé à le lui briser.

Kessler défoulait sa frustration dans ses coups en ne laissant aucun répit à son frère. Le bouclier encaissait les coups qu'il ne pouvait esquiver mais Vauban était rapide et l’inertie de la massue jouait en la défaveur du porteur. Cependant, même si Kessler semblait lent et lourd dans ses coups, il maîtrisait si bien son arme qu’il changea peu à peu de stratégie sans se dévoiler à son frère cadet. Le but était de déstabiliser les appuis de Vauban. Il ne cherchait plus à frapper à chaque coup son adversaire qui ne faisait que contrer ou esquiver les coups sans jamais attaquer. Kessler se mit à volontairement manquer ses attaques, jouant de la lourdeur de l’arme et du comportement exclusivement défensif de Vauban, pour frapper lourdement l’écorce jusqu’à briser sa couche superficielle. Le sol rendu friable par la répétition des coups portés faisait glisser Vauban sur ses appuis.

« Attaque donc Vauban ! Tu vois bien que tu n’arrives plus à te défendre correctement ! C’est ennuyant ! »

Kessler balaya d’un coup rapide de massue au sol pour obliger Vauban à sauter, puis dans l’inertie du mouvement, il continua son tour tout en se relevant et en visant cette fois le bouclier. Juste avant que le coup soit porté, Kessler déclencha l’enchantement d’onde de choc qui était incrusté dans sL’impact fut si puissant que Vauban se retrouva projeté quelques mètres puis loin alors qu’il n’avait plus d’appuis au sol, le bouclier volant en éclats en même temps.

Vauban, se releva au plus vite, quelque peu titubant, prenant sa rondache et rattrapant sa Klyde. Il avait tout de même pris le temps d’analyser son ennemi pendant toute cette première phase de combat. Il s’adressa à Kessler pour gagner un peu de temps et en découvrir plus sur lui.

« Puis-je savoir qui vous êtes ? Vous m’appelez frère, pourtant, si j’avais un modinima je le saurai car depuis mes atecaine-leme années de vie, j’ai toujours été fils unique. »

Kessler retira son casque pour répondre tout en le gardant d’une main par la suite.

« Ces traits ne te disent rien ? Je suis Antonino Maestoso, mais tout le monde m’appelle Kessler. »

« Ceci ne m’avance pas plus… ser. Je vous prenais pour un ktheros au départ mais votre taille et votre carrure ne correspondait pas, malgré votre hargne i matale. »

Kessler pointa de son index le blason de l’Ordre sur son uniforme et poursuivit. « Regarde ça peut être. Toujours rien ? »

« Vous êtes de l’Ordre Alkiane… ou vous avez volé ou contrefait l’uniforme, car jamais un membre d’Alkiane attaquerait un autre sujet de la couronne. J’en conclu donc que vous êtes un imposteur et qu’il est temps d’en finir avec cette mascarade. »

« Mais ?! Quoi ?! Attends, Vauban je suis réell’… »

Vauban prit de vitesse Kessler en ne le laissant pas terminer sa phrase et harponna de sa Klyde le casque de celui qui se revendiquait être son frère, désormais sans protection à la tête. Il chargea net avec sa rondache vivante dans le plastron de Kessler pour l’obliger à reculer et l’éloigner de sa massue. Enfin, Vauban glissa aux pieds de son adversaire en plantant une première dague à travers la robe de l’uniforme noir dans le sol pour limiter les mouvements de Kessler, puis en fit de même avec la seconde en activant la cristallisation d’enracinement de cette dernière. Les racines qui jaillirent de l’écorce piégèrent rapidement Kessler jusqu’à le forcer à s’agenouiller.

Vauban alla récupérer la Klyde plantée dans le casque de Kessler un peu plus loin, maintenant qu’il était maîtrisé. L’enracinement avait lui aussi terminé son développement, offrant le cou de Kessler à la Klyde de Vauban. Et alors qu’il tenait en joug son adversaire une voix claire se fit entendre depuis l’arbre-maison.

« Seri Kessler et Vauban il suffit ! Je crois qu’il est temps de passer aux explications. »

Kessler reconnu la voix et l’homine en question et ne pu s’empêcher de le faire remarquer malgré sa position plus qu’inconfortable.

« Oh mais qui voilà. La plus matis des fyros. Deles silam serae Mera. »]]>