Ryzom

The streets of Pyr was crowded with hommins going about their daily buisness. The hot desert sun burned down from the sky, bleaching all of the colour out of the wood walls and tanning the skin.

Of course, if you're a Zorai you wouldn't tan, even if you spent all day out in the sun.

"I hate the heat," I muttered as I waded through the crowd. I stood out, not doubt about it. Being a zorai in a fyos city, I stood at least a foot above the crowd, not to mention my dark-blue skin and kami mask were a dead give away.

I winced as a pain shot through my side. During a recent hunting trip into the desert, nearly every vicious predator within 10 kilometers homed in to our location and chased us all the way to Dyron. We had ended up blowing half our funds, just to buy enough food to feed everyone.

I turned down Rydon's Walk and entered a alcove in the wall. "Morning Feneris," the doorman greeted me. "The hall?"

"Aye," I nodded as I stepped into the elevator. I waited only a few seconds before the small cubicle lurched, and we descended into the ground. After only a few minutes the car lurched again, and the doors slid open.
Djorek and Faiyth were sprawled out on a table. Djorek smelling faintly of burnt psykopla, and Faiyth clutching a bag of tokens in her hand. Gnasher was sitting at a table, polishing a fyos rifle.

I gave a polite wave to Gnasher, and sat down in my usual spot. (The space between the elevator doors and the stairs to the basement lounge) I crossed my legs, and focused on the emblem on the wall, across from me.

It was the symbol that united us. A red shield, crossed by two swords. The same logo that was sewn onto the shoulder guards of my armour.

The symbol of the Pyr Millita.

I closed my eyes and slipped into a deep meditation. Waves of calm rolled off me as I communed with Ma-Duk. Unfortunately, they were canceled out by the sign bolted to the wall above me by some idiot. (Likely me)

"Warning: Meditation in progress! Disturb at own risk!"

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This post is to celebrate my initiation into the Pyr Millita. I would love it if other guildees were to post the tales of their own exploits and misadventures in the guild.

On the guild notice board, there is a note. It contains three things that every guildee should know.

Don't eat Yelk mushrooms, don't smoke Psykopla moss, and NEVER drink the water in the guild hall.

Everyone, at least once in there life, has slain a yelk and decided that the mushrooms would be a good addition to their rations. Not that the mushrooms taste bad or anything, quiet the opposite. Many great religious figures have also claimed to have heard the voice of their god while under the influence of such mushrooms. The fact that they also claimed to have seen ninja yubo and flying purple mektoub (amoung other things), tends to lessen the creditibility of such claims.

The narcotic properties of Psykopla moss are also fairly well known. Not well known enough however. One night, as I was about to catch the last kami portal to Zora, I noticed the fire in the guild hall was low and that we had also run out of firewood. I also noticed we had a large quantity of low-grade Psykopla moss in the guild storehouse. Now, at that time, I knew nothing of the narcotic properties of Psykopla moss. But, I did know that Slavani moss, aside from being good armour padding, made a excellent substitute for firewood. I thought Psykopla moss would be the same.

I was wrong.

I'm not sure exactly what happened, as I had left after dumping the moss on the fire. But from what I heard from various 3rd party sources, everyone in the guild hall got stoned out of their mind and made utter asses out of themselves. I spent a week hiding out in the Prime Roots, before I felt it was safe to show my face on the surface.

As for the water in the guild hall...

...Well...

...Some stories are better left untold.

Few realize just how much food it takes to feed a guild. We went through a whole herd of bodocs, a dozen roast izam, five leg of mektoub and one very surprised bandit during our last guild grill.

The various members of the militia have come up with numerous ways to make food out of anything we kill. Leg of gingo, shooki salad, messab stew, even Pyr style boiled kipee. I don't recommend you try ANY of the above recipes, unless you are desperate.

If we are REALLY desperate... we order pizza. A bigger feat then one would think, as the only pizza place is in Fairhaven. The costs more to have pizza delivered, then it does to equip a battalion of new recruits. Of course, it is always funny to have 47 assorted pizzas delivered right to the guild hall, by three trykers armed to the teeth. ((Be generous with tipping, or you'll regret it))

We prefer to hunt or forage for our own food of course. But those do not always work... There was the time Chelly hit a pocket of gas while foraging in the prime roots. While she was hardy enough to escape with only temporary effects. Poor Orlaf was giggling like a loon, and seeing dancing yubos for days. ((We're still not sure if he's fully recovered))

Contrary to popular belief, we tend to get hurt more when foraging, than hunting. But there have been disasters though. One time, in Farhar Towers, every predator within 50 miles homed in on our location and chased us all the way to Dyron. Even the herbivours were chasing us!! A yubo got hold of my leg, and I had to pry it off with a pry-bar. A YUBO! For Jena's sake! We use them for footballs when we're bored!

In Chelly's opinion, the incident was so much of a disaster, it was hilarious. True, we all shared a laugh over it. But that was only when Chelly got her stitches out, and my doctor took me off my medication for paranoia. ((I kept seeing zerx everywhere))

((Autors note: the above the story, is based on an incident that actually happened while hunting in Farhar Towers. It was of such a scale, it went from being a disaster, to being hilarious))

There is a room in our guild hall. It is unlocked, unprotected, and as old as the guild itself. Rumor has it, it is a large as the Imperial Palace at Pyr, and full of stuff you can't even imagine.

We all know this room. It's the junk closet in the guild hall.

Few have any idea just how much junk a lone homin can gather during their life. Let alone over fifty individuals, over the course of a few centuries. Let me put it in perspective. A new recruit wandered into the junk closet, and was caught in a cave-in. It took us two whole days to extract him from the pile of beer jugs he was buried under.

Over 400 years of crap is in that room, and as the guild's unofficial historian, I intend to venture deep into the depths of the Militia's junk closest, in the interest of unearthing our guilds history.

Hour 1: I have began exploring the outer passages closest to the door. I have found several items of interest: Djorek and Faiyth's stash of psykopla moss, an amber cube entitled "Breaking and Entering for Morons," an old launcher that looks like it was used to bash someone's face in, the final phase for a plan to take over Atys, and...

*SNAP!!*

"@#$%&@"

The Yubo traps.

Hour 4: I have ventured deeper into the passageways. I have passed whole caverns of Zorai holy icons, Tryker nick-nacks, and Matis undergarments. This place is huge.

Hour 5: Found the pendant I lost last year. Along with an amber cube entitled "The plan: Phase 4"

Hour 12: My zorai lantern is the only light in these dark tunnels. I have uncovered many amazing things. Amber statues, antiquated rifles, a map of Atys with the word "Three" written on it, and even a whole tryker windmill. How they even got it through the door, I don't know.

Day 2: I discovered the remains of a guildee who had perished ages ago. Funny, I thought he had quit after that big argument he had with Chelly...

Day 3: I have decided to venture back.

Day 3, hour 5: I have realized I don't know which way is back.

Day 8: My food rations are getting low. Thankfully, I found a sack of Yubo jerky between a tryker cuckoo clock and a large stone baring the number 2, and a strange passage hinting at something called "The Militia's Rising." Surprisingly, the jerky was still good, even after 200 years; or so I gathered from the junk around me. I am never eating yubo jerky again.

Day 13: I have unearthed artifacts I have only heard of in legends, devices I have never seen before, and stuff I never want to see again. I have even stumbled upon what appears to be the skull of a kami, and a full suit of slightly batered karavan armour.

Day 34: I have hit the jackpot! I have come across the slightly scorched remains of a chariot, a jug of beer, and enough wood blocks to build a pyramid 1000 feet tall. Along with some sort of parchment, entitled "Plans for TPM (whatever that stand for), detailing a diabolical plan to take over Atys, by creating a cult surrounding the leaders of an unknown guild. By my estimation, this stuff predates the great swarming.

Day 48: I do not regret this trip in the least. Through a season of hard work, I have uncovered more about this guild than anyone outside of the guild Leader and High Officers. There is still one secret that eludes me though...

Which way is out?

As a member of the Pyr Militia, I have seen much of Atys. I have walked the sands of the Burning Desert, swam the lakes of Aden Aqueous, trekked through the jungles of the Withering, I have even watched Djorek smoke psykopla moss on the Pskopla Knoll in the Verdant Gardens. ((It was hilarious))

Trekking is hard and dangerous work. One must preserver through thick wilderness, fight their way through vicious creatures, traverse rough terrain, and resist the urge to murder their trek-mates.

Seriously, it's bad enough being cooped up in a two man tent, with three people. But, when that tent is suspended 50 meters in the air from a tree branch, because there are gingos circling the tree, and they do not look like they are ready to leave.

In a routine trip from Zora to Pyr, I learned more about Orlaf and Gnasher then I ever wanted to. Not to mention I was forced to sleep in a tent built for two small trykers, and I am a six foot tall zorai.

Well we have yet to run across the mythical creature known as a "Bear" during our travels. We have had our share of troubles with predators. One night, I woke up to the sound of crunching wood. In the intrest of group safety, I went outside to check on it, and came face to face with the biggest Gibbai I have ever seen.

It was making a sandwitch out of our wooden food locker.

The only reason we made it out of that mess alive, was because Orlaf tripped. I keep telling him how lucky he is to have seen the digestive tract of a Gibbai first hand. But he won't listen.

A good guide is crucial if you want to survive any sort of trek. I recommend a zorai by the name of Zepth. The man can hear the word "Trek" a 100 kilometers away. I just wish the same could be said for phrases such as "Zerx! Run for your life!" and "HOLY JENA! LOOK THE SIZE OF THAT THING!"

I actually came to know the Pyr Militia thanks to trekking. I met the current leader, Chelly, in Zora. I happened to be looking for a trek to Fairhaven, and Zepth invited me along to one he was currently doing. Thanks to that resulting trek around the world, I learned about the Pyr Militia, and even recieved an invitation to join. A few days later, I accepted the offer.

It was the best decision I have made so far.

The Pyr Militia is, as its name suggests, a guild of fighters. Sure we have crafters in our ranks, and like to blow off steam by foraging. But, in our hearts, we are warriors and war-mages.

Some guilds say we are nothing but a bunch of violent, barbaric, and psychotic maniacs. I object to such claims. We are civilized people, not barbarians.

Sure we can get a little crazy at time. We may saddle up our mektoub and ride through Pyr, screaming out war cries, and making vulgar gestures at the guards.

Sure, Valko may have got drunk before an outpost battle, accidently set himself on fire, and went charging into the frontlines all the same.

Sure, we may trek to the farthest corners of Atys to find beautiful, unspoiled wilderness, and then spend the next hour blowing it to ****.

We are a fair and reasonable people. We may like a good fight now and then, but the Pyr Militia is composed of some of the nicest people I have ever met.

We have our disasters. Such are the time Shredder thought it would be a good idea to use explosive to unearth a vein of sap in the Prime Roots. I will not go into details, only say that the Kami were REALLY pissed off at us.

We have our victories. Like when Trynet kicked some sucker's ass, not one, not twice, but six times.

We even have times where we pretend not to know the drunken tryker skinny dipping in the town fountain.

We are all homins. We have our virtues, we have our flaws.

Now, if you will excuse me, there are still one tree left standing. One good hit should take care of it...

Before I met the Militia, I was alone.

I crawled out of the Prime Roots, alone. I left the refugee camp, alone. I took my first step into the jungle by myself. Ever scrap of clothes I wore, every blade I swung, every gun I shot, I made with my own hands, out of materials I dug myself. Heck, I had a small fortune in dappers saved up because I was too cheap to buy anything. Without the training of the rangers, I doubt I would have survived. I owe my life to them and their teachings.

I was forced to learn how to avoid predators, to know where the best spots to forage are, to figure out what creatures I could or could not take on, and discover the best way to knock out a ragus with a yubo.

I hunted for every scrap of food I ate, I bathed in Still Waters with the mektoub, I even spent the night in a ragus den to get out of the rain. (The ragus were no too happy when they came back.)

My life changed after that fateful trek that brought me into the Militia. I slept in an apartment in Zora. I could fight creatures I would never dream of facing with my guildmates at my back. More importantly, it made my life interesting again.

So when asked whether I would go back to going solo, or even join another guild, I say...

*BOOM!*

"Sommus, you idiot! Put that gun down!"

*FWOOOM*

"You moron! You set the psykopla moss on fire!"

*CRACK*

"ARRGGHH! We just replaced that wall!"

...

Make me an offer.

In the Pyr Militia, we have three guild policies.

We never get involved in interguild politics, we never let guildees like Somnus and Woody out of our sight, and we are never mentioning THAT again.

Politics are a imperial pain in the rear. Most of us don't have the mental capacity to deal with the complexities of politics anyway. To us, what happens on the battlefield is buisness/leisure. We deal with personal stuff outside of the battlefield. So, if I shoot a shell at your head during an outpost battle, I'm not saying I hate you, I'm just doing my part to support the guild. Of course I probably wasn't aiming for you in the first place, so no hard feelings.

For those who know both Somnus and Woody, the second policy comes to no surprise. For those who have no clue what I'm taking about... let's just say that those two are as subtle as a varnix, thrown through your window, by means of the biggest launcher you have ever seen. They are the guild's attack dogs. We point them at our enemies, and say "Sic em' boys!" Just be careful where you point them, Woody would fight himself if he could.

As for THAT... There is only one thing I can say, that will not have the entire guild after my head.

"What happens in Fairhaven, stays in Fairhaven."

Our guild hall was not always located on Rydon's walk. We used to be based in on the other side of Pyr, near Cheapside Market, in a back alley, behind the only fish market in Pyr. Thankful we were forced to move, when an accident leveled the guild hall and all the buildings within a kilometer radius. It involved 500 gallons of Koorin Oil and a match.

Our new guild hall is much nicer. It has a shooting range, observatory, greenhouse, and bar. Okay, so maybe the shooting range is some beer jugs set up on the rail right next to the bathroom doors. The observatory may just be the hole in the ceiling that resulted from Trynet trying to show off his new launcher. The greenhouse may also double as the guild baths, which, as Stewart keeps reassuring us, will be cleaned sometime the week after next week. He fails to mention WHICH week that is. As for the bar... drink the guild water... you'll see what I mean.

There are a lot of memories in this hall. The gambling wheel that looks like it was ripped out of the floor and dragged across Pyr. We acquired that little trinket after a day at the bar, during which Djorek decided Faiyth had spent enough money gambling. Faiyth disagreed.

I have often spent the night in the guild hall, sleeping/meditating in my usual spot on the floor; rifle in hand. I woke up, with an empty clip, twenty new bullet holes in the wall, and a mustache painted on my mask. One new clip later, and we have another twenty bullets in the wall, and a new hole in the ceiling.

Needless to say, the local carpenters are on a first name basis with us.

(( Awesome! These stories have given me quite a few grins. Keep it up, and godspeed Pyr Militia! ))