Ryzom

Riveit sat next to Gywidion under an enormous mushroom and watched the rain pour down. The Arena was directly behind them. It was almost sunset again. He prayed for a break in the clouds. Jena! he missed the Lakelands. He had been running up this wretched hill in Majestic Garden every evening for a week. A patrol of Green Seeds ran by down the road. A couple of the Trykers waved at them. He waved back at his friends. He thought he could almost join the Green Seeds by now. Ha! Except from all the digging in this grass he had done, while ragus pups nipped at him, he would be a Green Seat instead! Gywidion squinted at the sun and said, “Get ready, you’ve got to get the timing exactly right.” Riveit carefully set down the Boomer rifle that he had been cleaning. He had picked up this excellent weapon made by Themac in Yrkanis. It was one of the few good things to come from this blasted Matis prospecting rite. Riveit must have shot over a hundred ragus and gingos with it over the week, but new packs just kept popping up.

“Remember you have to stick straight to the path I showed you, climb over that huge fallen tree, don’t go around it!” Riveit was certain that some over-tall Matis had cut down that tree on purpose and was probably still laughing about it. A gleam of sunlight broke through the clouds, and Gywidion said, “Ready …. now, Go!” Riveit took off at a sprint down the hill and across the road, his short Tryker legs pumping furiously. He was certain of one thing. If he didn’t complete this rite tonight, he was going to take this prospector’s pendant, wrap it around Sicha Pelli’s neck and twist.