Ryzom

Dear Homins,

Some strange events have occurred over the past few days. Stranger even than the celebrations at Windermeer, which, including Jyudas’ “interesting” conversation during the fireworks and the strange appearance of the twins, were exceedingly strange, indeed! My guild leader, Yamcha, arrived back after a short holiday away with his partner Ailish. After the rigorous training they had been under during the previous months, it had been well deserved, yet, on seeing Yamcha, he did not appear to be the picture of a well rested homin. A quick enquiry proved this to be true. Our fearless leader has been called away on urgent business of which I will not speak here, not to return for many years. And in the gap that this has left at the top, my fellow members somehow decided that I would be a suitable replacement at this time. While I, a simple explorer, am somewhat sceptical about their logic in this matter, I have accepted this role and will attempt to bring some kind of order to the chaos that briefly losing two close friends and guild members has brought. We are a close family, the Stormdancers. We will not bend for this. To that effect, I will shortly post here the history of our guild. How our ancestors set our path and our original leader pointed the way. But that is for later. For now I have to tidy things in the Hall and meditate on the responsibilities that have been left to me.

The History of the Stormdancers

In the old days, before the Kitin massacres, a group of Matis lived on a lush plateau far away from the main civilisations. They lived away from the other homins to avoid the politics and manoeuvring that came with that lifestyle. They were farmers and foragers in the main, keeping small amounts of livestock and trading freely with the Fyros and Matis civilisations nearby. The plains were high above the rest of the land, with rains that surged across the land and huge flashing storms, sometimes even in the clearest of skies. They were happy there in their solitude as the lands were fertile and predatory animals rare. Alas, things did not stay in such an idyllic state.

Some of the nearby tribes of Fyros and Matis grew jealous of the plateau and its abundant fields. They asked the tribe there if they could set up an outpost there but the homins refused. They wanted no part in the dealings of the tribes, as they knew of them and knew them to be greedy and false. Many even suspected them or robbery and more. Sending the envoys away, they returned to their lives, unaware that the violent tribes plotted violent means of obtaining their lands. Soon the tribes returned, with the full force of their warriors behind them and the homins that dwelt on the plain did the only thing they could; they ran.

Running across the fields as best they could with wives and younglings in tow, the men of the plateau did what they could to slow their pursuers, but they were farmers, not fighters and were quickly cut aside by the harrying tribesmen. To the north they fled, towards an old monastery in the hope of sanctuary there. The monks that stayed there regularly traded for food with the people of the plains but shunned contact with other homins to stay true to their vow; vows which have long been lost to the annals of time. Panting and weeping, the remnants of the peaceful tribe pounded on the doors of the temple, bare minutes ahead of the pursuing murderers. They pleaded with the monks to save them and, seeing their plight, the holy men relented. They had no love for the treacherous tribes that followed and had foreseen this day for some time.
When the Fyros and Matis bandits arrived at the temple the monks were ready for them. Arrayed in the finest armours from ancient times and weapons, sharp even though they had not seen use in many years, the monks stood in front of the terrified folk from the plains. Clouds rolled in from the north, as if summoned to the battle and lightning began to flash as the two forces sized each other up. Seeing the determined look in the monks eyes the bandits quailed but, spurred on by the prospect of pillaging the lands for themselves, they ran towards the line with their battle cries ringing loud in the air. Huge rumbles drowned out the shouts and the battle was commenced, silent monks carving swathes into the host before them. Though outnumbered ten to one the monks fought on, making the tribesmen pay in blood for every foot of ground gained. The smell of the storm cloyed in the air just before the heavens opened and the rains began. Huddled by the walls of the temple, the people of the plains watched as the ground grew muddy and red, the monk’s pristine armour becoming sullied by the dirt. Still they fought on, swiftly moving through the ranks of the attackers as lightning grounded across the plateau. Blades flashing in the darkness as the rains poured and the clouds rumbled above, they danced through their enemies ranks, slaying warrior after warrior. Their eyes shone and, as the homins looked on they could see the tide of the battle turning. Though only a few of the monks remained, the toll on their enemy had been great. The bandits wavered in the face of these heroics.

The homins by the temple, though tired and scared, took heart at this sight and with great cries lifted what weapons they had and charged on their foes. The enemy, beaten and broken, turned on their heels and ran for their lives but the ground, now turned to marsh and mud by the rains, hindered their retreat and the homins fell upon them with axe and knife. When all was ended, not one of the treacherous bandits remained alive. The homins rejoiced! They had won! Yet, as they looked around, they could see no monks by the temple. They hunted through the bodies but all were dead, blood mixing with the waters as the rain finally ebbed. The monks had been killed to a man. The homins of the plateau had no-one to praise for the amazing feat that had occurred. They did not even know the names of the monks, or what they stood for, yet they knew them for what they were; true heroes. They had asked for no payment, they did not bask in their glory. They gave their lives just to help a tribe they barely knew. All the homins wept then, even the men; the taste of victory was ashen in the face of the loss.
After burying the monks in the temple grounds and leaving the bandits to the Gingos and Izams, the homins trudged their weary way back to their homes knowing that things would never be the same. The tribes would come again and the next time there would be no monks to save them. So they packed what they could and made the journey towards the civilisations they had avoided for so long. They spoke much on the long passage there but the conversation always strayed back to the monks and their valiant sacrifice. They had danced through the enemy like ghosts, lighting flashing on their blades, thunder roaring in their wake. The monks would have a name. They would be named the Stormdancers, and the legend would be passed down from family to family, generation to generation. The peoples of the plateau took the name as their own and pledged to hold to its spirit as they neared the first towns and villages.

As time passed and the homins grew used to civilisation they parted ways and spread to many different towns and villages, always living a short distance away from the main areas, keeping to themselves and bringing up their families well. To some, the name faded to legend and the children laughed and crowded around the elders to hear the tale of the monks told again. To others, the legend faded to myth and eventually to silence as the Kitins raged across the lands.

A few still remember though, and they hold the name with pride!

sorry to hear about Yamcha, I liked that guy

Hope you can do a good job m8, the Stormies deserve to continue. Good luck

I believe Yamcha will return. I'm talking about Atys years, not RL years. And yes, the Stormdancers will continue. A recruitment drive will be put in place in the coming weeks and an event announcement put in place quite soon....

YAY!! For the Stormdancers!!



Rawpure.. leader of Eternal Flames - Masters of the Flames

Thanks Raw, but I fear for us.

We have lost many members and I myself have not been active in the last 1 1/2 weeks due to personal issues. Rest assured that I have not abandoned my guild, nor Ryzom itself but, were I to enter the world in the state that I'm in it would be tough to stay in character or keep to the polite and calm nature to which I am accustomed. The event I mentioned had to be cancelled due to the departure of my brother-to-be, Nkatz. He is in a better place now, I hope. But soon, very soon, I will return and I have plans that I hope I will be able to enact. This is not over.