Ryzom

Drachlei: common Zorai who has witnessed very little of our history. Not so long ago, I too was a refugee. It seems like yesterday... *mind wonders off in silent reflexion*

(OOC: For those who don't know my story, you might want to read my [post=382231]Introduction[/post] first for a better understanding of what's happening to me below.)

I remember the times past: the long trek through treaturous lands where kitins hid behind every tree (or so it seemed to me as a child), the Rangers' Camp, where I was to undergo a strict preparation for my future contribution to our magnificiant temple cities.

Where my memory will fail me, I must write my memoirs. Maybe, looking back at these memoirs some day, I may learn a thing or two on myself. If I should follow in my fathers footsteps, then maybe these memoirs will save me from heresy.

THE TRYKERS

Today I had my first encounter with a Tryker female. I’m almost done with my crafting and start looking around. A furtive glance at her. I think she catches my fleeting action for a second. Feeling a little awkward for being so obvious I dare a quick greeting. She isn’t to leave it at that, of course.

“Greetings from a Zorai nomad”, I blurt out, but just as I think that is going to be the end of it, since many other trykers are calling out to her, she turns to face me.

I smile a little sheepishly as she faces my chest and strains to look up.
She bows. I'm not too sure how to react. She seems like a toy; a very pretty toy mind you, but still...

I decide to bow ceremoniously and she giggles. She probably finds me stupid. I think at that point even from so far below she can see the sap rise to my cheeks as I fumble an excuse.

“Sorry, I must be off so soon after good company”, I baffle “...but a mission awaits me”. There was no mission of course. “May the Lords favor our crossing again.” (What lords? Which lord? The only sure thing I believe in now is Atys)

“Go ahead and do your missions, kind sir, hope to meet you again,” she kindly says.

I can feel a tingle up my neck as I hastily turn and run away. I think I catch a slight smurk on her face.

“May the sand be smooth under your feet,” I hear behind me.

Well maybe it was just a smile come to think of it, an understanding for an awkward stranger's approach trying to save face, as Zorais often do.

Faa: I will have to remember that name should our paths cross again, Atys willing.

-------------------------------

Second encounter and more prejudices revealed. I really must work on my attitude.

It happened at the stables again. As always, the sands covered the bark on a sunny day in Fairhaven. As Riveit, a tryker homin, sent his usual greetings and smiled at me, my first reflex was to drop my hand to my pouch. *sigh

All was fine and I had no real reason to doubt his good nature. Though I DO think the zorai hold true knowledge in their hands, I must learn to listen. Atys tells of unity and purpose in common goals, but how am I to unite if I have not overcome my prejudices?

The “preacher” must listen first, listen to the sounds of harmony that serenade in Atys and let them mould me into her servant and… Savior? How pretentious of me!

A third tryker and my resolve has devoured what was left of prejudice. I feel betrayed by my fathers. They had no right to kill the hominity in zorais. Let Kamis and Karavans play their petty game of G’No, no more using us as pawns! But let us become one as we were meant to be through Atys, a beautiful variety of homins as wonderous as the bright colors of dangling shells on Darkmoors’ roots. I am becoming obsessed with Aeden Aqueous, I fear. I must be moving on very soon to new lands less I get attached to one land of predilection. …but I digress again. My real notes should pertain to this memorable day…

This Utai, I just met has broken me. Another tryker female this time and we bonded with extreme ease, as easily as the Shalah takes his spot and slumbers on the sands of the Enchanted Isle without so much as a snake bothering it. It was natural. It was pure. It is a bond as only the symbiotic Atys can generate. She has been added to my close friends list. I do believe it can be mutually beneficial even though I’m the prophetic yubo in front of this Master Kipesta, way above me as far as crafting goes. Her guild owns an outpost.

I had no intention at first to make exchanges, since I can make what attire I need at the moment and then some, in true zorai independent fashion, but she insisted so much I felt her kindness should not go unnurtured. Who knows if some day I may not be in need of special equipment only an outpost could handle? Who knows if I, myself may not be of modest assistance at one time or other? …though I stay away from guilds these days that have a tendancy to choose a faction. Both the Kamis and Karavans, I am sure, would welcome any new pawn on their board. Just the thought of such makes me bleed inside for Atys as surely as her blood oozes in Zorai lands.

Resolve: treat all homins equal. Atys willing, they are to be honoured and cherished for they live in symbiosis with the living planet.

I must jot this down less my memory plays tricks on me. I have found out something grand but I fail to see the meaning.

Note:
- Part of my name, taken from an old Fyros dialect, derives from the word Dragon. But I am Zorai, am I not?

- write later how I’ve come across such intolerable information but for now I must recollect.

*lost in thought…

SYMBIOSIS

It dawned on me at a moment when I least expected it. Atys revealed herself a little bit more. At first it was so subtle I hardly noticed, but with time I have become acquainted with her whispering to The Listener.

Oh!.. and if anyone should come across these memoirs and believe that I am The Listener, make no mistake: I am not The listener but only a mere part of him. I am A listener. You may be one or a dorment listener. I invite all to listen to Atys and her secrets. Should you decide to be part of The Listener, please share with us your insights. I am sure they will find there way to these memoirs, be they what Atys wills or not, so that all can see if we are on the right path to knowledge. ...but again I wonder off...

As I was writing… I think the first time I heard one of Atys secrets was during one of my many toiling days on tryker territory. I was at the Enchanted Isle, I have grown fond of this place for Atys is generous at all seasons and the environment has so much to offer for the eyes and mind. Anyways, I will not wonder off again in prose or verse, I have never been one for words of adornment. I speak truth and simple fact as only a scholar would have difficulty to abide by.

So as I was scraping the ground and prospecting its materials, it suddenly all made sense. Well... maybe not as suddenly as that but Atys revealed herself through her reactions to my digging.

I prospected for five sources as usual, and as usual, barely had time to get to two sources. Looking down at the second, bending on one knee, I realized I had never been able to harvest more than half of the sources I had managed to prospect. Wasn't it peculiar that I could never go over that number. When I prospected two, I got one harvested; when four, then just two gave their produce.

The dust spewed up from the ground as the tip of my pickaxe crashed through the source. I saw the other three sources disappear into the ground as if they had done their job, content of taunting me.

I stopped my frantic digging. I felt the urge to meditate for some reason so I got up and slowly walked towards my usual spot nearby, under the root. I sat there, legs crossed, in silence. You would have thought Atys knew this was a special moment as not even the root extensions waved as usual. All was calm and serein. I peered out towards the spot I had just been harvesting with all the viguor of a refugee harvester and thought...

The algae near that spot gently swayed from side to side. There was no wind, but it slowly came to be. Trees started dangling in unisson, a ballroom spectacle during the spring festivities in Win-Cho Estate. Though the rain suddenly began to fall, I didn't feel the moisture in the air. All was warm and I almost felt like dancing along with Atys. I felt secure and warm like it was amniotic fluid. Everything I needed to sustain my life was all around me. Atys was mothering me, though I felt in the same time she was extending a warning towards me. The way she let me have some of her riches but never completely, was telling me something... but what? Had I listened carefully enough?

Then it dawned on me. She was nourishing me with her riches, but reminding me to be careful not to over exploit her. We had a silent agreement; we had symbiosis. I was taking from her and she was readily giving but holding me back from killing her by over exploiting her. Reminding me that my life depended on her and she on me. I was to protect her while she would nourrish my needs in return. She gives but reminds us we can not rape it all. She shows us her riches so we know of her generosity, but she reminds us to honor her with dignity and let her live through our care.

We can not continue to devour her riches without respecting her will to serve us. We should protect her in return... but from who? from what? from us? What can a mere homin do to Atys, the great living planet? Maybe we have already done it. Maybe we have already violated her. I need to read our history and find out! I need to meditate: who could be her greatest ennemy and find a way to destroy it!

I hear the crack of thunder in the distance and a trickle of sap streams out beside me. I follow it to its source and find a small incision in the root above my head to the right. Is Atys telling me I'm wrong? Is she saying we are not the ennemy? Or is she saying stop the destruction? Maybe it’s just my use of the word destroy that made her shiver… Before I want to destroy anything I must learn to listen and be one with my home, with Atys.

THE THREAT

She has warned me about them as she has warned all of us though we do not listen. If you must find just cause to fight, be it in the hands of Atys rather than those who make a mockery of her and her guardians.

Have you not wondered why the kami and karavan never go at it in a decisive battle of all battles instead of sending us lowly homins in search for destruction and discord? Have you not wondered what lies behind the laughter escaping from behind those scrawny little kami hands? Have you not pondered the possibility that karavan hide smurks behind those insipid masks? If it isn't the case, then why do they maintain this delicate but slightly imbalanced meddling of forces? Why do they both use a deity to bind us into docile mektoubs, always ready to do their will? Have they abused of our natural instinct to love and cherish Atys as our main Entity? Have they managed to divert our minds to non-existant forces which they can mold as they please for their own ridiculous game?

I have seen the... I think Atys knows. We are but pawns in their hands. They are neither friend nor ennemy of Atys. They are simply one of the biggest lies of Atys. They are but children playing mindlessly with us all in a tug of war where only Atys can be the greatest loser and we, the pitiful instruments of our own destruction. Can you not see the unrighteous way they pit us kin against kin? Homin against homin by such foolish notions of superiority? They appeal to our lowest instincts of preservation and make it into a vile cancer devouring hominity.

Truly, we must rise above it all. We must look forward at our own future and not that which will be thrown upon us. We must build, I agree, but new civilizations that live in peace and help each other such as we do against the kitin invasions.

We must, as poetic justice would have it, use the kamis and the karavans obnoxious superiority complex to our advantage! Yes, my friend that is what Atys needs homins to do for her own protection and ours. So we might find a grain of sanity in our lives and honorable purpose in our fight.

As for myself, I will always use the kami and karavan to my will as I please without respect for their nautious quabbles. I will use their teleporting systems at will and as I please. I will cunningly use tryker methods (I have been learning) to share what wealth Atys wills me to have so that I may gain favors from the kami as I need, then laugh behind their backs. I invite all homins to use them shamelessly also.

But who am I preaching to? Maybe a listener such as I… Up to you to do what you please. I have claimed my piece for now.

THE HALF-SISTER

It was end of autumn and I could feel winter coming. I could feel my bones withering inside of me trying to push it away. I do not want to ever forget the moments I’ve passed in tryker lands. I was set against time, memories greatest enemy. I wanted to make sure these memories could creep back and surprise me when I least expect it and then fill me with reminiscing joy. The time where I would leave these beautiful lands was catching up with me. So I must now remember all the wonders I have seen. I must remember as I had promised myself I would back then.

… the perky little tryker women with nimble hands crafting me special items I could have gone purple had I had to extract the material myself from that hard outpost bark. Remember, I can…, the warm summer nights spent in some beautiful corner of Darkmoor surrounded by a circus of colors so bright and varied, it could rival with the sacred rituals of adulthood in Zorai lands. I remember also the poignant and discomforting news from my father in his post-mortem letter (I can not write about this yet, as it is still too fresh and tears me apart just to think of it), Utai’s help to find my half sister, Be’Darins Aeddan, the city welcomer, who could barely stand my presence and who didn’t show any mercy for the zorais I represented to her. I would learn some day, what made her so sour and cruel. I remember my deception to see how lovely she looked, wondering if she revealed some of my mothers traits, only to find out it hid so much hatred. She would not grant me so much as ten minutes of her time, claiming she was so busy with many new visitors to meet and help make new contacts.

I also remember a specific moment as if it was now. I am lieing down on my back under my favourite root. I feel the cold of an autumn night, prelude of a harsh winter to come. It is hard to accept. I have to leave so soon. Time has flown by so quickly; six months has come and gone and my quest had just begun. I remember thinking: “this is but the first of many strange lands I must travel to. I can not procrastinate any longer.” a strange drop falling across my cheek and to the ground. “I can not be crying…” This day has not come yet. I sit up and cross my legs in a poised manner and start meditating.

I must get a hold of myself. I am Zorai! ….

*silence*

I… am… Atysian!”, I whisper, but with resolve.

Note: When I think back to that night, I don’t remember falling asleep or if I slept at all. Reading it now, a beddling of strong feelings are all fighting to come out. I long for that place. Atys willing, I shall visit and stay for a while again some day… perhaps when I find something new about my mother.

THE MATIS FRIEND

I wake up but lay there breathing the moist, spring, jungle air. I am surrounded by the vibrant colors of a multitude of flowers and the moss under my back and buttocks is fresh and soft. There is a conflicting sense of home while I long for other places.

I think of the last days spent at Darkmoor. It has been a month already but it seems like yesterday.

Closing my eyes again, I see myself lieing on the dark caverns bark. My fingers are playing with the laces of my mektoub pouch while the phosphorescent shells are sparkling and dancing on the walls around me. I am filled with nostalgia. Summer and autumn have come and gone in the lakelands. In the light of what I have learned here about myself, a new purpose inhabits me. Looking at the huge roots reaching for the sky, I think about my youth in Pyr and the fatidique day I had to leave for Zora to undergo a strange teaching for priesthood. I think about how I have been kept hidden from Atys life for so long and how that may have strangely prepared me for a nomadic life, pushed me towards breaking the bars of my prison, peering and reaching beyond them to finally live a carefree life. There is so much to learn and experience in life, I fear for those I have left behind, stuck in a racial prison they built themselves.

I am both fleeing my past and running towards my past as I will leave Zora for a long trek to Pyr. But for now, I lay here in the jungle listening to the bustling of noises from the Tutors camp close by. The hawker has arrived today and the market will be early.

It reminds me of Sigio Nirini, my old Matis friend. He still finds the hawker life enjoyable. He was never one to stick to one area for a long time. Most of my youth in Zora was spent with him, sneaking around back of Pei-Jeng-Fuan’s jewel shop, running to the mektoub waterfall and practicing the “vile” melee combat my Zoraian peers would have shunned me for. Well, there were so many things they could have shunned me for, they didn’t need that excuse.

I chuckle at the thought of Pei-Jeng Fuan. Her mom used to own that shop. She was very keen on spotting “trouble-makers” and that meant any kid who was outside after hours, especially if they were destined to priesthood. A smurk on my lips, I think about that old entrance near the back of her store and how the mektoubs used to run inside when they heard the stable ones calling. How they would run through the market and we boys were hiding in the tree laughing so hard while the wild mektoubs tumbled the stalls and the zorai merchants were all fists in the air fighting some invisible giant bug. Of course that was before the petition from clerks to block that entrance once and for all since nobody really came through there to buy their produce. They were mostly selling to the locals. If you go there one day and look at the bark which has been generated there, maybe you will laugh too, thinking about those mektoubs. As I reminisce about Zora, I remember my father.

I roll over to my side and bring my right hand under my ear to hold my head up while my other hand reaches inside my pouch to take out the parchment. Weathered, crumpled and slightly torned at one end but holding my life in the midst of a few words written by my father a little before his death. He had held back for so many years; this information must have torn him apart inside but he had kept strong for me. He had hidden my past because he wanted to protect me from my peers. The zorais are a proud homin and would have never accepted a Pyr student among them, learning the intricacies of their culture without proper rites.

I flatten the paper down on the open pouch lid and start reading. Maybe if I reread this often enough I will feel his presence and everything will become clearer to me…

THE POST-MORTEM LETTER

“Dearest son,

My life has been a trial that I would never want to replace. Though I have known many tribulations, it has also brought me many joys. Without it, I would never have felt the true love that crosses barriers and the wonderous feeling of holding my flesh and blood in my arms after being separated for so long. There is so much about yourself and your mother you must know. I know we have never really discussed about it; you have grown accustomed to my avoiding those subjects but as I see you grow into manhood, I must share out of respect for you and for your mother. I write this down, should Atys have already destined me soon to be part of her. If such should be my demise, I entrust your good friend Shon Wo-Can to give you this missive in due time. Though our ideas of what must be in Zorai land diverge a lot, he has always shown loyalty and will not fail to do my bid once I am gone. Of this, I am certain. After all, he has already been entrusted with much of my knowledge of Atys though he disagrees, but has never spoken word to the Great Sage, Mabreka.”

I get up with a jolt from my elbow and balance my back over my body comfortably while I swing my legs around and cross them beneath me in meditation poise. Lei Dong-Woo has often told me the strength of a zorai lies in how quickly he can get into meditation.

Just the thought of Shon Wo-Can is enough to bolt. His serious piercing look I have had to suffer for so many years. His grunts and disdain as I walked pass in the corridors of the great Temple. I never knew why he had accepted to train me into priesthood, if he so disliked me, at least that’s what I had thought until this letter from dad.

Shon Wo-Can left me at the care of other priests, such as Lei Dong-Woo, Chiang Din-Woi and Jeng Pei-Dong but I knew he was behind all those lessons. I would sometimes sense what I thought was his shadow behind closed doors, staring at me while I trained in age-old meditation techniques and the art of magic using sap Atys had so generously shared with Zorais.
Of course, the masters would say the Kamis had something to do with that and I would certainly find out how our communion with the Kamis was enlightening, once I underwent the rituals of Masking. They would never cease to pick at me for not having done that earlier and I thought I heard them say “for the years I had wasted at Pyr” once but didn’t pay any attention. Kami willing, that was about to change, if they had anything to say about it!

They had looked so deceived and in utter shock when one day I had screamed out of control saying that would never happen! Of course I was using that to get back at Shon Wo-Can during one of their harshest training lessons. The shear joy to see him barge into the hall with the meanest look on his face, half fumigating about what I had said and half for his clumsiness to have shown his interest in my training... I find myself grinning at the idea.

My eyes have wondered off into the distance, staring at the Tutors camp. Maybe I should go see if Sigio is the hawker this time… but I must continue. I have known Sigio since the founding of the Tutors camp in 2521. We share so many memories we can only laugh when we get a chance to see each other again. We were both a little adventurous, shall we say, but for now I must continue reading before the day starts and I learn the latest techniques in harvesting jungle territory. There will be plenty of time to reminisce later on.

Everytime I take out the letter and read it, I feel this urge to soak in every word. At some point, it will surely all make some sense and give the needed clues to my destiny. I plunge back into my reading...

“Your real name is Drachle.”

(OOC: Pronounced Drak-lee)

I jump at those words every time I read them. I can almost hear my father saying them out loud. Why was my name changed to Dra Chle-I? Why couldn’t I wear my real name? Noone has ever called me Drachle but it almost feels like home somehow.

“That name, and hence, part of your present name is from an old Fyros dialect meaning ‘Dragon’” continues the letter.

*A fleeting but very powerful image crosses Drachlei’s mind. It seems like the beautiful wide eyes of a tryker female on a fyros face*

There it goes again! My recollections from my early years are vague. A few moments in time secured by the mind in a dark corner and ready to come out unexpectedly with a blast of emotions: a fyros family who kept me hidden during a trek through the woods and a desert and the moment when I had to leave for Zora to become a zorai priest and mage. For all I know, that could have been a dream!

As far as I can remember, I have been taught in the ways of the Zorai and in the Zora Temple. Secluded from all outside sources of thought, I was to be a priest and mage. Yet why would I have had a Fyros name of all else? It is true that the Fyros were not far from Zorai enlightenment, having a strong will for acquiring knowledge. They have also clearly embraced the ways of the Kamis. But to hold a zorai to a fyros name is almost sacrilegious. How could Shon Wo-Can even accept to teach me in such circumstances? The rest of the letter would do well to calm my greatest fears and it does…

“We have had to change your name to Dra Chle-I because it was the only way Shon Wo-Can would accept to teach a “half-breed” (that was how he called you) of your type. It is true you have blue skin and all the traits of a pure Zorai but you are only half zorai. Your mother was a tryker."

These last words hit home. It explains, in part, why I feel so at ease with trykers or with their land...

"Make no mistake, you are not half of a son to me or ever were to your mother. We were both held by terrible ties but both have loved you tremendously and have done to the best of our knowledge for your well being.”

My thoughts wonder off and a tear slowly forms at the corner of my eye every time I read these words. I can not help but wonder about my mother and what she had to do for me, how terrible a sacrifice it must have been to leave her son in strangers’ hands.

“I can not tell you everything about your past and mine because it involves many other homins who have high positions and it belongs to them to reveal themselves to you if they so wish but know that both your parents and all those whom have had to take care of you have done so out of love and friendship. I can only give you two names and wish you the best in your search for your roots if you so decide to endeavor.”

Those words are cold to me. I can not see the warmth he might have believed they could give me. Why shun me from my past? Why give me notions about myself that serve as bombs and then give me choices based on a lack of information?... but I read on…