EVENTS

Nights get darker!
 

Time for stories

Have you heard the tale of little Dartie already? She's a beautiful little girl, such a cute child! She loves it when nights last longer, because then her Grandmother has a cozy fire burning in the good old parlor and if Dartie asks especially nice, then her Grandfather tells stories. Dartie can listen for hours to fairy tales about heroic Trykers, about pretty Matisian Ladies, about cute Yubos. Dartie likes Yubos especially much. She says they are so cute and cuddly. She even has a pet Yubo. She feeds it every morning and afternoon and even cuddles with it in the night. Because of that she loves her Grandfather's stories about Yubos so much. All except the legend of the Ghost Yubo. She shouldnt have been listening to it, because she is still too young for it. Her Grandfather was telling it to her older brothers last year. Dartie thinks that it is at Angi wins. Or was that Anlo winns? No matter. At any rate after Dartie has eavesdroped, she has an evil dream.
 
Dartie cuddles in her bed with her Yubo in her arms and sucks, satisfied, on her thumb. The fire sputters in the fireplace and burns down slowly. Shadows gather on the bed of the little girl. But what is that? in the darkest corner of the room it is suddenly darker than a shadow ever could be. This blackness is expanding, floating to all corners and up all the walls. Underneath Dartie's bed, it is crawling up on the bedpost. The fire dies. A last spark lightens the sleeping face of the girl. Her breath shines as a white cloud. It's cold.
 
Alas! It is so sad. They are saying that little Dartie breathed out her Seed peacefully in her sleep. She was ill, they are saying, but it is odd that her Yubo has been missing since then.

Have you heard the tale of little Dartie? She was such a beautiful girl, such a cute child!

[OOC]
Soon there will be a campfire evening with the opportunity for story telling by players. Those who cannot attend may like to give their story to a friend or in advance to the event team via mail to events@ryzom.com. Your story then will be told by a storyteller.

Oh: Don't forget to buy Marshmallows!
[/OOC]

[OOC] Official announcement [/OOC]

Tale by Naton Lydos

Sprite's gift

Caura Aepan and Anidi Antoni traveled together to answer to one of their mutual clients needs. They pretty often worked together, he was making jewels in a mixed Matis-Tryker style, and she was making clothes in a pure Matis style.

As they lived in Matisagoo tribe, they went to Heretic's Hovel, but lost their way.

Roving and terrorised in the Maze of Sprite, they were surprised by night. Running breathlessly to escape from predators, scared by all the noises around them, they heard suddenly some beautiful music with a lively rythm, with a smooth and melodious song accompanying it. They decide together to head towards this music and arrive in the middle of a grove, near a small pond, where they saw some cutes dancing and singing in circle. In the middle of this circle, a hunched figure remained motionless.

Driven by curiosity, Caura comes nearer, so he can better look at the view, and Antoni follows her soon after. What they thought were cutes wasn't really. Finer, and more gracious, they wore colored clothes with audacious cuts but still very beautiful. The clothes were enhanced by jewels that could turn the best master crafter jealous.

Amazed by the clothes of these small beings, Antoni comes nearer and is seen. The shape in the center of the circle is a very old homi who seems ageless, with a blazing white beard falling on his chest.

He beckons to them to come nearer, and the circle opens to let them enter.

The two artisans walk shyly into the circle that closes after their passing through. Without understanding a word of what is said, they start to dance with the others, moved by a desire against that is impossible to fight.

Suddenly the music, dancing and singing stops. The two friends are exhausted and collapse on the ground. The old homin came to them, pulling a knive out of his belt. He walks to Antoni with a determined face and shaves her head. Antoni doesn't dare to protest. The old homin did the same to Caura, and thanks both with a litttle pat on their shoulders, and the dancing starts again.

When the time to go arrives, the old homin shows them a heap of rotten leaves and they understand seeing his signs that they have to take some. They do so without hesitation, to not offend their host.

Having found a quiet place to get some sleep, they rested. In the morning, they find their pockets heavy and see the leaves turnes into dappers during night. They're rich homins now! In addition, they remembered the techniques to design the wonderful things they had seen. They'll become very good crafters, known overall Atys!

Antoni saw all of her dreams suddenly become possible. She will answer favorably to the young merchant who had started to woo her, without risk of appearing too ambitious; and she will become one of the best crafters in Yrkanis, maybe a crafter for the court.

Caura will be able to pay off his debts and live with the mother of his children, who asked this as a pre-requisite, and will ensure them a nice life! However, he wanted more. But Antoni managed to convince him that Sprite's prank could be dangerous, and that shouldn't try their luck, having gained from it once.

Caura was a little musician and remembered quite well the melodies. He told me this story, and taught me one of the Sprite's tunes, listen.

/em takes a flute and plays : ♪♫♫♫♪♫♪♫

Tale by Kaliss

This is a true story, I swear it!

One day, a band of friends decide to organize a group of powerful fighters : "La Lune Eternelle" (the eternal moon).

Afterwards, as there were lots of new people in the group, they decided to take a trip to Almati Wood the day of Anlor Winn. After a long walk, they found an encampment with a sign. On it was written "Ghost Village". Although hesitating a bit before doing so, they entered. After some minutes, they found a stable, and decided to spend the night there. After a meal of bodoc meat, they had an urge to tell themselves horror stories. After 2 or 3 tales, a Marauder armor without a head apeared sudenly from the ground, bearing a Tekorn axe. The members of "La lune éternelle" all stood up to defend themselves.

Fighting as quickly as if he had a dagger, the headless marauder rushed at Dipsie who performed a super-homin dodge. Artran cast a stun spell on the Marauder followed by Xylog who cast a shockwave that made the marauder fall over. Dipsie approached him with her autolauncher and shot 3 times at him. Even then, the Marauder still managed to stand up. At this moment, the stable door opened and a shape appeared.

It was difficult to see because of the darkness. The mysterious character moved forward three steps, then "La Lune Eternelle" were happy that this person had come in. NIZYROS!!! Leader of "La Lune Eternelle" ! He moved forward slowly, head high, and said : "You should have never have attacked my friends". He stepped back two meters and all of a sudden shouted so loud that Tenwo ran back to Ranger camp. Quickly Nyziros took out a vedice spear and rammed it into the headless Marauder's chest. He fell in one shot, and we could see a veil fly away and disapear in the ceiling of the stable.

Tale by Anesia

Once upon a time there was a planet where four peoples with different builds, temperaments and traditions were living. More precisely they weren’t living on the mineral part of the planet but on its vegetable part so much the 
flora was important there, forming continents. The four peoples could be made out physically through the presence of small ones, tanned ones, pale ones and big blue ones. You’ll have understood at this point of the story
 that it’s indeed about us and our beautiful Bark. These four peoples never stopped making war. Incessantly, always conflicts, always mayhem between peoples, between believes, and between them of same people and same 
belief. Every pretext was good to bring weapons out and try to demonstrate who would be “the strongest”… And for this, all of them were trying to gear up, to arm themselves with always more weapons, more armors. This 
frantic and irrational quest for power and pointless domination drove them to slowly but surely drain all the resources of the planet. All those efforts to tear each other apart to the detriment of the planet instead of helping each 
other, of acting hand in hand to make everyone progress… The four peoples divided by so many battles finally came to the only thing which united them:
 
A final battle which would define once for all who would dominate the other ones.
 
All were gathered in a same and unique battlefield. And fighting which followed on this gloomy night of Anlor Winn saw in incredible sap flood flow. So many life taken, brought back by the powers to succumb again… On the whole day never was there rest for all the ones so hungry for power. The Bark wasn’t covered with sawdust anymore but with gear, sap and limbs torn to the shreds, crushed by all this fierceness. It’s on the evening that they all stopped suddenly, taken by terror: the Bark had just shivered with a monstrous roar! Burning pikes rose all around the battlefield, trapping the whole of the peoples, taking away and isolating the powers from them places of prayer to life. Some tried to escape but there was no way out. The pikes were far too high to climb on them and the fire spreading quickly in addition to the poisonous fumes which were spreading quickly in the sky, covering the stars and their lights. The Bark had been so wounded by its peoples who were consuming it while consuming themselves… All of them were asphyxiated at best, burned alive at worst. The fire purification was over after moons of disparate fires. All of them went back to dust amidst the burned sawdust. The Bark had offered them life and it had had to retake it from them because of the misuse they were doing of it. It had been their home. It became their grave…
 
Simple story or macabre premonition? To be meditated upon in any case… in front of a good fire of course.

Tale by Krill

Krill looks up at the sky.
Krill makes a strange face and lowers her head.
Krill opens a beer bottle and takes a mouthful before starting.
Krill says: “It was along time ago. A very long time ago. Long before the First Swarm.
It took place in the old Fyros Empire.
Well, more or less in the old Empire. At least, it was in an arid place.
Apart from that, knowing who claimed to reign on this part… The dunes probably didn’t care more than the last rain.”
Krill thinks
Krill says: “Mmmh…Maybe that’s not the best expression …
No matter…”
Krill takes a drink and resumes
Krill says: “So it was along time ago, in a most arid place of the Old Lands
There was a good Fyros, brave, if not the sharpest knife in the drawer…
But truly kind at any rate.
He didn’t deal much with the other Fyros, but he went from time to time to the oasis closest to his home to buy some trifles.
Apart from that, he spent his time between the dunes, alone, listening to the sound of the wind , or perhaps counting the particles of the Dust 
I don’t know really. I doesn’t matter much for the story”
Krill takes a fresh mouthful
Krill says: “What does matter is that he hadn’t much interest in what other homins were saying
So when he left the oasis,that one time, he didn’t paid attention to the ones who were telling him not to stay outside
Wind? What wind? He was accustomed to the wind”
Krill looks up again, briefly, to the sky
Krill says: “On that night, indeed, there was quite a lot of wind in the desert
But that Fyros had survived worse before. He took shelter in his coat, settled himself in a dune’s hollow, and waited for the end of it.
In the morning, the wind was still there, but it had lessened, and the Fyros noticed a nearby yubo.
It didn’t look very robust, this yubo.
You could even say it was in a damned bad way.
When the Fyros approached  him, it hardly moved an ear.
Everything else in his body, front legs, rear legs… All of it, looked shrivelled up.
The Fyros gave a bit of water for the yubo to drink while speaking gently to it.
Oh, yes, Fyros can be gentle  -- sometimes.
Well, it is said they can be…
If there isn't anyone around to see them, probably…”
Krill finishes her beer bottle and puts it back in her bag.
Krill says: “The yubo drank all of the water, and the Fyros decided to take care of it
He found it a sheltered place, something to drink, to eat…
You know, it’s a lot of work finding something to drink and to eat for a sick yubo in the middle of the desert
But the Fyros knew the surroundings well,
And little by little, the yubo started to recover.
Ok, it still had the hindquarters shrivelled up, but it managed to move about  with its forelegs.
And the Fyros was so happy seeing that, that he didn’t pay attention to his stiffness and the pain in his shoulders”
Krill shoots the sky a dirty look and takes a new beer bottle  from her bag.
Krill says: “By dint of wandering everywhere, getting water from shookis… and water from other things, right… Well, exerting himself for his small yubo, the Fyros started to feel really tired
But he carried on, because every day the yubo seemed to get better
It was less and less shrivelled up
And more and more affectionate
If its rear legs had allowed it, it would probably have jumped to the kind Fyros face to cover it with loving licks
But for now it couldn’t
So it settled for stumbling and trying to nibble his boots
And it made the Fyros laugh, he who wasn’t used to someone going round him that way”
Krill sighs and takes a large drink, without looking at the sky this time
Krill says: “The Fyros laughed, and with that he forgot he was aching anywhere
But it was more and more difficult for him to move, to find drink and food for his small comrade
Not to mention himself
But now, the more he laughed the more it made him cough. A deep and hollow, dry, cough
On one evening, he came back to where he had left his yubo but couldn’t find it
He was exhausted, but he couldn’t let his comrade be alone in the desert
He went looking for it, under the moon and the stars
He walked, walked, walked…
He felt weak
He felt empty
He felt…
The wind started to blow, as it had not been blowing for days
And the Fyros fell to the ground, too weak to move...
Curled up...
Shriveled up.
Then the yubo leapt upon his face, and tore out his eyes
Then it tore him apart with such violence that his head was thrown far, far away, up  into  in the sky
And from that time to this , when the Anlor Winn is blowing, sometimes, the eyeless shrivelled head of the Fyros can be seen, up there, among the stars…”
Krill finishes her beer in one gulp
Krill grumbles: “I don’tlike Fyros stories, I prefer Tryker ones…”
Krill puts her empty bottle in her pack and goes back to her seat.
Krill suddenly realises there are lots of headless homins about tonight, and wonders...

Cuento de Drakfot

La Pintura Absurda

Una vez al año hay un tiempo llamado Anlor Winn en Atys. Este es un tiempo donde las tierras están mezcladas con una extraña moda de alegría, risas y sonrisas. Pero también hay una noción de miedo que subyace, las tierras parecen más inquietas de lo normal. Ha habido rumores de Kitins evitando ciertas partes de las tierras por, a falta de mejor definición, miedo. Pero eso son sólo rumores, o por lo menos hasta donde sabemos. Pero una de las más extrañas propiedades de un rumor es que puede no ser nada, o puede ser verdad. Lo que estoy a punto de contar es una historia que encontré en un viejo libro durante uno de mis viajes a través de Colinas Verdes. El libro en sí mismo era bastante viejo, pero no tenía ninguna referencia sobre cuándo ocurrió esta historia.

Y en cuanto a si es un rumor o la verdad, les dejaré escoger. 

Queridos Homins, ¿Habéis oído hablar alguna vez de la Pintura Absurda?

Todo empezó el día antes a Anlor Winn, cuando los Homins estaban en medio de los preparativos para la celebración que estaba por llegar. Todos estaban entusiasmados para crear el ambiente más escalofriante al rededor de sus casas, algunos hacían armaduras que parecían varios Kitin con la esperanza de asustar a sus amigos. Todo para disfrutar de la buena risa y para estimular su imaginación. 

Antionni Valini paseaba por una calle bulliciosa llena de vendedores, los de siempre y nuevos, que esperaban vender tantas cosas de Anlor Winn como pudieran. Con él tenía a dos niños, Nonne y Nirni - su hija y su hijo - además de Valena, su querida esposa. Todos compartían el espíritu de Anlor Winn sabiendo que era un tiempo de júbilo y recuerdo. Salieron todos a comprar varios objetos necesarios para la celebración. 
Caminaron entre los diferentes vendedores mirando toda la variedad de objetos disponibles, comprando alguna que otra cosa aquí y allá.

Pero en cuanto estaban a punto de dejar el mercado les llamó la atención un extraño Homin que decía ser un pintor que quería vender su más preciadas pinturas. Todos se miraron uno al otro con escepticismo al principio, pero en seguida les tranquilizó con lo que sería una magnifica incorporación a su salón y una vez  lo hubo enseñado quedaron convencidos casi al instante. 
El cuadro era de un hermoso paisaje que parecía no muy lejano a las Cascadas Virginia. Parecía tan tranquilizador y relajante que todos coincidieron que quedaría perfecto encima de la chimenea del salón. 

Así que lo compraron y lo trajeron a casa. Y como les había dicho el vendedor estaba hecho para ser colocado sobre la chimenea ya que hacía que toda la habitación pareciera relajante. Todos se sentían en calma cuando entraban en el salón. Entonces comenzaron a hacer los preparativos de la fiesta. Había que hornear pan de Stinga, pintar un Cuttler que diera miedo en un lateral de la casa, etc. Había muchas cosas por hacer así que el día pasó con rapidez, y pronto se encontraban sentados en el salón con tazas de té de Stinga admirando la pintura. Pronto les llegó la hora de irse a dormir así que cada uno se fue a su dormitorio, todos contentos con el trabajo hecho y deseosos de que llegará el día para los preparativos finales. 

Unas horas más tarde Antionni fue despertado por su mujer, quien había escuchado un extraño ruido que venía del salón escaleras abajo, preguntando si podría haber sido parte de la decoración que se había descolgado. Con ojos cansados bajó las escaleras y hecho un rápido vistazo al salón y se dio la vuelta para volver a las escaleras. Le aseguró que todo estaba en orden y pronto estaban dormidos de nuevo. 
Si sólo hubiera mirado más detenidamente detrás de sí mismo, las cosas hubieran sido diferentes. 

La mañana vino y todos se despertaron más tarde de lo habitual, pero no era de extrañar dado que todos habían trabajado duro el día anterior. 
Mientras se reunían alrededor de la mesa de la cocina no hubo respuesta de Nirni cuando le llamaron y al mirar en su habitación la encontraron vacía, con la cama hecha - lo que era raro. Quizás se había levantado temprano y había salido a ver a sus amigos, algo nada extraño para él durante los fines de semana, así que nadie le dio más importancia. No más que guardarle algunas rodajas de pan para cuando regresara. Dado que era el día de Anlor Winn todavía había más preparaciones que hacer para la tarde, así que comenzaron a trabajar en ello y el tiempo voló hasta que la tarde se les echó encima.  Y todavía no había ninguna noticia de Nirni, lo que era raro, así que se empezaron a preocupar un poco a cerca de su paradero. 

De repente Antionni y Valena escucharon a su hija gritar desde el salón y lo dos se apresuraron a entrar y la vieron señalando la pintura. 

"E... Es... Está ahí..." dijo con voz aterrorizada todavía señalando. 

"¿A qué te refieres? ¿En la chimenea?" preguntó Antionni un poco confuso. 

"No. En la chimenea no, en la pintura." dijo Nonne con voz temblorosa. 

Al tiempo que Antionni caminaba hacia ella mirando el cuadro no pudo creer lo que vieron sus ojos. La pintura había cambiado de la imagen de las Cascadas Virginia a... ¡Su salón! ¡Y Nirni estaba sentada en el sofá!

"¿Qué...?" Fueron las únicas palabras que pudo musitar mientras miraba a la pintura cambiada. 

De repente escucharon un portazo en la segunda planta y todos se dirigieron hacia allí, pero la única puerta cerrada era la del cuarto de Nirni. Y mientras la abrían todo parecía estar como antes, pero ahora la cama estaba revuelta. 

"¿Qué está pasando aquí?" preguntó Valena a Antionni. "No lo sé, ¿Es quizás una broma pesada de nuestro hijo? "contestó. "De ser así, debo decir que es de mal gusto" repuso Valena. 

"Mami, tengo miedo" dijo Nonne y Valena trató de calmarla. "Vayamos fuera y ver si podemos encontrar a tu hermano y aclarar este embrollo" dijo con la voz más calmada posible. 

"Vosotras dos mirar afuera, y poned algunas luces en el porche mientras estéis en él. Buscaré al bribón dentro." Dijo Antionni y empezó a deambular entre las habitaciones de la segunda planta tan pronto como dejaron la casa. No pasó mucho tiempo hasta que escuchó a su mujer gritando y se apresuró escaleras abajo para encontrase con ella en la puerta, cubierta de manchas de sangre. 

"Se... se... ¡SE HA LLEVADO A NUESTRA HIJA!" Gritó cogiendo su mano y empujándole fuera. "¿Qué? ¿Qué se ha llevado a nuestra hija? ¿A qué te refieres?" preguntó él. 

"ESO" dijo y señaló al Cuttler que habían pitando en la casa con anterioridad. Por un momento Antionni pensó que toda la familia estaba compinchada con la broma, pero al mirar detenidamente al Cuttler vio que también tenía manchas de sangre. Y entre sus dientes colgaba una trapo de verdad atrapado entre los tablones, y era la misma tela de la que estaba hecho el vestido de Nonne.

"¿Qué es esto por Jena?" se dijo Antionni murmurando antes de que el siguiente grito llegase a él. Era de nuevo su mujer, esta vez desde dentro de la casa. No había notado que ella hubiera desaparecido y corrió dentro de nuevo, para verla arañar la pintura mientras se desvanecía. Gritó y trató de agarrarla pero sus manos la atravesaron como si estuviera hecha de aire. Y de esa manera desapareció, no estaba en ninguna parte de la habitación. 

"¿Me estoy volviendo loco? ¿Qué es esto?" Pensó Antionni mientras miraba el cuadro. Valena lo había logrado rasgar un poco, pero todavía parecía bastante entero. No fue hasta que Antionni levantó una parte del lienzo de la pintura cerca de la parte donde estaba Nirni estaba sentado que pudo ver por qué su mujer había gritado, Nonne estaba ahora sentado junto a Nirni. 

"Pero cómo.., ¿Por qué? ¿Quién? ¿Qué?" Las preguntas comenzaron a arremolinarse en su mente. ¿Era esto todavía una broma? ¿O era real? Entonces recordó al vendedor que le vendió la pintura y pensó que quizás podría darle algunas respuestas a lo que estaba sucediendo. Por suerte estaría en algún lugar cerca del mercado. 

Antionni fue a abrir la puerta pero no se movía, no importaba cuanta fuerza aplicase, no se movía ni un centímetro. Ni una fuerte patada la convencería de moverse. Ni siquiera el cristal de las ventanas parecía ceder a sus puñetazos y golpes. Era como si la casa de repente no le dejase salir. La fatiga alcanzó su mente al fin y volvió al salón, solo para ver que ¡La pintura estaba entera de nuevo!.
¡Y detrás de sus hijos estaba Valena! ¿Habían desaparecido todos para aparecer en la pintura?
¿Era esto una broma pesada? No lo sabía. Todos los pensamientos se arremolinaban en su cabeza mientras se sentaba en el sofá contemplando la pintura. Luego todo se volvió oscuro. 

Unos días después algunos amigos de la familia tocaron a la puerta ya que estaban preocupados por ellos. No les habían visto durante Anlor Winn, ni en los días posteriores. Así que decidieron comprobarlo. Al tercer golpe la puerta se abrió y pudieron mirar dentro. Gritaron sus nombres sin obtener respuesta, así que entraron para investigar. Todo estaba en orden, nada había sido tocado. Parecía que nadie había estado en la casa en los últimos días. Se preguntaban por qué se habían ido, ¿Quizás habían ido a visitar a algunos amigos lejanos y habían olvidado mencionarlo?

Lo que no notaron fue que faltaba algo en la casa; el cuadro encima de la chimenea en el salón. 

Esta es la historia de la Pintura Absurda.