It was a cool evening on the Tipa peninsula. No one knew why it was called Tipa, it was simply that it had been called that since anyone could remember, and it would probably be called that until some group of people choose to change it. But that wasn't likely.

At any rate, a dusty road stretched out into the distance from a small town. The town was called Nemura. It was situated at the end of the peninsula and was old with only a few families living in it. There was a crystal, in the northern section of the town just in front of the town elder's house, that easily kept the miasma at bay. But the light that once shone brightly in the night was dulling. Its life force was giving out. Once again it was time for the keepers of the crystal to voyage out to obtain the life giving water that kept the crystal alive year after year, as had been tradition…year after year.

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The clattering of wheels interrupted the usually serene quiet of the dusty road. Soon a caravan came into view, dispelling the miasma around it. Beside it walked two clavats and a lilty. One clavat wore green, the other white and brown with a white cap. The green one held a blue steel blade in one hand, a flame shield in the other. The white one, the blacksmith's son, held a father's blade and a blessed shield. The lilty, a girl, wore iron gauntlets and boots. Her spear, a simple bronze partisan, was in hand, and the weapon was used as a walking stick as its owner looked ahead.

On the caravan, behind the blue parupus that drew it, a yuke with a horned visor and green adornments sat. He held the reins with one of skill, as he had been taught since he was a boy. A hammer on his side glinted in the setting sun. Sitting on the rear of the caravan, with her legs dangling near the road, was a female clavat in a simple white garb, a tough dress-like thing with no frilly non-necessities. Her brown hair fell behind her, and she was relaxed and laid back, her mind lost in the red clouds. Her copper blade and lightning shield were propped up on the caravan's wall to her right.

Behind her, inside the caravan, was a female selkie. She had light blue hair and wore traditional selkic clothes, a blue skirt and a top that showed her impressive cleavage. She was sleeping on the tents, yes, on the tents, and a dual shooter racket, her weapon, laid beside her head.

The last member of the group, another selkie, this one male, was actually on top of the caravan.

He wore a green-brownish garb and had a blue headband that almost matched his blue-grayish hair. Oddly enough, he also wore a skirt, as was selkic tradition. He held his racket, a butterfly head, loosely in his left hand, and his right hand he held a new looking brownish blue book. A quill stuck out from its spine, and a pad of powdered ink was attached to its cover. This was his journal. He, along with the other caravaners, had been told to keep one. They were told that it would come in handy one day. But he was the first to start his.

Ahd-Serf's Journal

Day one.

We left Nemura today. Not a lot has happened, other then Justin assuming the role of "Leader". Stupid green wearing clavat. I'll admit, he has sword skills, and he is cool headed, and he has a commanding air around him, and his father led the caravan before him, as did his grandfather and his great grandfather, but still. It's only day one.

In other news, this pad and quill thing is working very well. I'll have to congratulate Nomic's dad, the town alchamist. He knows how to drive a caravan well. I wonder why… Oh well.

The sun is setting. I think we're going to stop in a clearing up ahead. We covered a lot of ground today.

End Journal

The clattering of the caravan wheels came to a halt. A voice, Justin's called out "Hey, Ahd-Serf! Get down here! We need help unloading the tents!" Another one, the lilty's, shouted "Hey! Why does Cher-num get to sleep? And why on the tents!"

There was a bit of clamor and confusion for a second, but the tents were finally staked, a fire started, and food, provided by the merchant's daughter, the clavat named Samantha, was being cooked. A few of the caravaners had taken their journals out and started writing. Ahd-Serf, with steamed corn in hand and his weapon strapped across his back, simply wandered around the campsite.

There were three tents. One for the males, one for females, and one for Nomic. The yuke had brought a tent for himself, and no one disagreed with it. Those tents were situated around a fire, with the caravan on the opposite side of said fire. Ahd-Serf walked up to the caravan and was surprised to see Jon, the white wearing clavat. Jon simply looked at Ahd-Serf, then moved aside, motioning for him to sit. Ahd-Serf complied. When he looked up, he saw what Jon had been looking at.

There was nothing obscuring the night sky, not a tree or cloud. The moon was high in the east, and the stars dotted everything. Ahd-Serf heard the ocean's waves, he felt the soft spray of the sea. The sky was reflected in the ocean's mirror. Jon, who had always been the silent one, spoke.

"We're very young to be doing this, aren't we."

Ahd-Serf looked quizzically at him, then responded "Yes. Some of us are barely of age. I am only thirteen."

" I've heard talks of the crystal loosing it's lifetime."

"That's why we're here. To bring it back."

"Not like that. The voyage for myrrh has been coming sooner each year. I fear for the worst."

"You always fear for the worst. Come on, let's get you some food."

"Alright."

So they walked over to where the rest of the caravaners had gathered for dinner.

-End Chapter One-