Ryzom

While the guild itself is based in Pyr, every member has a different place they call home. I myself live in a small apartment in Zora. The commute to Pyr is a nightmare.

I rarely sleep in my apartment. Mostly I rent a room at whatever city is closest to where I am. However, when funds are low, I often camp outside and leave myself the mercy of wandering predators. Or, if I am really desperate, I sleep in the guild hall, and leave myself to the mercy of my fellow guildmates. I'm still not sure which is worse.

Truth be told, my apartment is more like my workshop. The cupboards and drawers overflow with materials I have collected during the day, tools are scattered haphazardly across the table and floor, various projects in different stages of completion dot the place, and more often than not, my ragus Lou-Zhao, is found sleeping in a bed of made of beckers bark, cratcha moss, and shu fiber.

Yes, I do have a pet ragus. I have raised him from the orphaned pup I found among the ruins of Silan, to the large loyal companion he is today. Okay, so maybe he hides at the first sign of danger and he frequently thinks that trykers can double as chew toys. I still would rather have him at my side, than the yubo mount Teylas has. Watching him ride that thing is funny as hell.

I still enjoy camping more than sleeping in an apartment. Camping itself has become easier and less painful with the perfection of a single skill...

It is the ability to pick up your entire camp, fire and all, shove it onto the back of your mektoub, and get the hell out the moment anything with fangs comes within your line of sight.

The Pyr Militia is not big on religion. I speak for the guild in general when I say that. I know for a fact we have several Karavaneer zelots amongst our ranks, and I myself am actually a practicing Kamist.

This has, understandably, caused some conflict within me. While the militia is not based in anyway under the Tenates of Jena, we still fight for the Karavan. It twinges wrong in my heart, whenever I fight my own spiritual kin. Of course, when you sleep in and arrive late for a battle, only to find an army of Karavaneers slaughtering un-aided outpost personal, without a Kamists in sight. It's almost enough to make you want to convert.

Our guild used to be a Kamist guild actually. However, due to circumstances I have no knowledge of and some bad blood, we converted to Karavan. I will refrain form giving out details on why we did so, as some of the information is personal, and my knowledge of events is rather incomplete.

Regardless, my loyalty to the guild comes first. No matter what hesitation I may have, I will charge into battle praise to the Militia on my lips.

Of course, I will then take a shell to the head and wake up an hour later at the nearest Kami shrine. That's life for you.

Even psychotic maniacs need a break now and then.

So, once every year, we take the long and dangerous trek to the old lands. We fight through hordes of Kitin, slough through disease ridden swamps, and swim miles through lakes infested with carnivorous fish. All to get to a pair of small sunny islands we spend the week at. Of course, we could just use the ring terminal, but what's the fun in that?

You may wonder what we do when we are on vacation. It's the same stuff everyone does on vacation. We work on our tans, drink exotic drinks, play beach games, sing campfire songs, and signal the end of our vacation with fireworks.

...

Okay I lied.

We chase each other around the island with axes, drink ale straight from the keg, have bloody duels on the beach, spend the night trying to put out the campfire, seeing whether Gulatch or Philian Oil makes a bigger bang, and signal the end of our vacation by finding out first hand.

Our time on that island, can be best summed up in the words of the great and wise Kami master on the next island...

"You make great explosion last year, homins. Blast so great it almost leveled whole island. We look forward to this year's explosion."

I am a zorai, and I am damn proud of it. I feel it is my duty to record the deeds of this guild, so that they maybe preserved forever and used as blackmail if I ever need something out of Valko.

I also feel that it is my duty to dispense the wisdom of the zorai to my guildmates in times of need. More often than not, the advice is usually along the lines of... "When hunting goes bad, he who runs slowest, gets eaten."

To help fulfill my duties as the Unofficial Chronicler of the Pyr Militia, I have traveled the world looking for tales of the guild's exploits. I have seen the mighty Chest of Knowledge that now rests in Zora. I have gotten lost in the great junk closet of the guild hall. I have even gotten our founder, Valko, drunk off his ass, just so he could enlighten me to the origins of the guild. I got two hours of pure **** out of him, before he had to be rushed to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.

I of course want to ensure the purity of my works, and go to even greater lengths to ensure I get every bit of information there is. I have explored ruins in the Prime Roots that had once seen the feet of guild members. I have bravely ventured into hives of kitin just to find one stupid kirosta that supposedly ate a guildee. I have even sat down for tea with some of the guild's most hated enemies, just so I can listen to them rant about us; after dyeing my hair, getting a tattoo, and changing my name.

However... the more I read into Aty's history... the more I read about the mysteries surrounding the kami, the karavan, even hominkind itself, the more I wonder what the truth is...

But I have a feeling these things will be reveled in time. Until then, I wonder how many shots it will take to get Stewart to sing like a Yber?

Thanks to a few bribes and a few minutes sweet talking Chelly, I managed to acquire a room in the guild hall for the storage of the Chronicles.

I immediately had a two meter thick, reinforced eyota wood door installed; along with a rabid torbark on a chain.

May say this is over kill. I say, that knowledge must be protected at all costs. I'm sure many zorai will agree with me.

Of course I keep a copy of the Chronicles out for public viewing. I have had many people compliment me on them, a few more openly thank me, and a small portion try to kill me. I now know all the kami at the Pyr and Zora shrines by first name.

Thankfully, amber cubes are very durable, or I doubt they would survive ten minutes in the guild hall. I would hire guards, but most of the battle hungry morons in the guild would just kill them and desecrate their corpse.

Thankfully, I have discovered that a mixture of ground Dyron death pepper, fresh yelk juice, pickled stinga brine, and guild water; when left to stew in the hot desert sun and strained through a pair of Orlaf's underwear; can make a potent concoction that could likely knock out a kami sentinel. Though I have never been stupid enough to find out.

Now, if you will excuse me, I think I hear someone trying to tunnel into the archives via the sewers.

Some say I'm paranoid. I say, they don't know the Pyr Militia.

Some say zorai are stuck up, that they have a holier-than-thou attitude, and that they fail to keep there thoughts in this world.

While the validity of these statements vary from zorai to zorai, the zorai have an incredible ability to focus all there thoughts on a single task. This is similar to the matis inclination to direct all their energies to a single objective to an obsessive degree. However, rather than obsessing, zorai focus with all their might on the task at hand. This results in the only the zorai being able to craft the giant floating structures they are famous for. It is also responsible for the zorai ability to enter into a meditative state for a long time...

I think the record is currently at 54 years.

All zorai can do this, and it is advised you never disturb them while there are at it. I was fortunate to witness one incident in Yrkanis, during which a disciple of Jena was pulled out of a five hour prayer by a concerned worshiper. The results were both spectacular as they were destructive. Lighting storms had nothing on that "little" display.

Sometimes I have entered into meditation at the guild hall, snap out of it a week later... and find out someone has been using me a coat rack.

In fact... I feel my level of inner peace has been sliding a bit low lately... expect me sometime early next summer.

((AN: I am currently participating in a student travel program... and I have yet to see if the computer at the house I am at, can run ryzom. So... I hope to see my fellow guild mates soon... but I will still try to update regularly.))

The Pyr Militia has participated in many a battle over the years. Our blood has fed Atys over many an outpost. We have fought off armies of invading kitin, and stood strong against armies of invading homins of any nationality. We have sworn allegiance to no nation, so we usually stay out of those conflicts.

Of course, we have our conflicts within the guild as well. Some are personal, and will not be logged for the sake of privacy. Others are more public. One time, the Militia got entangled in a internal war that raged across Pyr for a whole season. The causes are obscure at best, as many people just realized everyone was fighting and started attacking anything that moved. However, intensive research has isolated the cause to someone leaving the lid off the pickled zerk snout, one too many times.

Dispite our best efforts, we are sometimes dragged into guild politics. I was once involved in a massive standoff between the Militia and another guild. A few insults were exchanged, and maybe one of our men won a duel, but all everyone did was stand around and look menacing.

I am a peaceful person myself. I never get involved in conflict unless it is forced on me. Sure I have been involved in a few outpost wars, but that is merely for a battle thrill, and nothing personal is met. However, if someone honestly and truly pisses me off. I will hunt them down... and kill them in the most horrific way imaginable.

Yes, I am talking about you. You have to sleep sometime...

I am guided by Lady Fate's whims through my life. It is through sheer chance that I wandered up to the surface, and to the rangers camp near the ruins of Silan.

After Silan, I wandered through the various areas of the Witherings. Often I would get totally lost, and end up stumbling upon good sites to fish, forage, are sleep. Often, I ran into people who helped me by sharing their knowledge or experience. One such person could only share a few words of advice, because he was on his way to an Outpost battle.

I had heard of these great battles, during which many of the greatest warriors would engage in battle over these important sites. Thus, I asked him I could come along.

I don't remember his name. But he helped guide me to the outpost, an ancient ruin in the Void, and set me up with a group of warriors to aid. The battle was not particularly intense. There was an army guarding the outpost, and the attacking force was destroyed with ease. Yet, I had a good time, and got to see the Void as well.

It is also by chance I met the Pyr Militia. I have always had a desire to see the different places on Atys, and one day I ran across a group doing a round-the-world trek. The people doing that trek were members of the Pyr Militia. ((Except Zepth, who was guiding us))

Over a year later, during a najab hunt in the Void, I ran across that outpost, and asked Chelly a few questions about it.

I find it ironic that my first Outpost battle was fought for one of the Militia's most hated enemies.

((AN: ARRRGGGHHH!!! I CAN'T GET RYZOM TO WORK!!!! Might be another 3 months at least before I can talk to all my friends on Ryzom! Miss ya all!))

Being sick sucks royally. Despite the many advances in both technology and magic, the common cold still plagues the homins of atys.

Of course, once one person in a guild gets a cold, everyone else will get it too. Jena forbid, if someone shows up to an outpost battle with a cold, all of atys will take a sick day only a week later.

Of course, it is not that no one has tried to come up with a cure. Once, someone in the guild showed up with a cold, and only a few days later, the entire Pyr Militia was sick. All 105 of us.

Chelly of course, whipped up some of her homemade medicine for us. It might have worked too, if everyone hadn't snuck in an ingredient they thought would make it better. I myself will admit to putting in powdered najab claws. The end result was a foul sludge that smelled like a wet yelk, bore an alarming resemblance to to boddoc vomit, and which burned a hole through the guild hall floor. I was in bed an extra week thanks to that stuff.

I shudder to think of what would have happened, had I been crazy enough to actually try the stuff myself.

((Sorry for the delays you all... I've had a brain hicup, and to top it off, I am sick, not to mention it is hard to find time to write when you are sharing a computer with 9 other people.))

There are many secrets on Atys. The planet is constantly changing, uncovering new mysteries, and burying secrets.

I myself stumbled across the journal of my lifebefore I joined the Pyr Militia. It was buried in my pack, beneath a bag of honeyed nuts, and right next to a roll of low-quality buo fiber. I even ran across a record of my attempt to reach the lakelands.

Day one: I have crossed the Cities of Intuition and stand on the border between the Knot of Dementia and Zora.

I have just been killed by a yubo.

Day two: I have learned to avoid anything that moves, and am making my way across the goo fields of the Stainmoore.

I have never seen so many gibbai in the same place.

Especially when they are all chasing after me.

Day three: I finally managed to loose all the gibbai. I have no idea where I am right now, and I have yet to find my left arm.

Day four: Found my arm, and managed to get it reattached.

I have just been blasted by the Goo Heads.

Day eight: I have finally made my way to the desert stock, and to the base of the ramp which will lead me to the Great Outback.

I have just been ripped to pieces by a horde of kipuka.

Day sixteen: I have finally made my way up the ramp, and will spend a few days at the Great Outback Workshop, sewing myself together.

I have just chocked on a honeyed nut.