A/N: It's world renowned fact that I'm crap at openings. I'm at my best when characters are already described and developed a little, so bear with me for the start of this, it's pretty rushed and sloppy. I'm well aware. I hope the concept is enough for you to give it a chance!
A few years after their departure, caravanners started hearing tales of the world as it was in the days before miasma. Sometimes presented as legend, sometimes as fairytale, the main thrust of the tales remains the same. Whether mentioned by the travelling moogle Stiltzkin, whether appearing as part of the annual diary summary or in books hidden in Moschet Manor, the tales all point to the same conclusion. Originally, the entire planet was bathed in the blessed aura of a great crystal that stood in the spot now occupied by Mount Vellenge.
The role of the crystal at that time was simple: it protected the people with it's glow. With no miasma to tarnish it, the crystal shined brightly, a beacon for everyone who wanted to live in peace. Strengthened by such confidence and animated by such harmony, men and women were able to experience life in the fullest sense of the word. They were free to travel the world, discover new horizons and therefore create numerous precious memories. These memories, whether happy or painful, revealed the richness of human existence. They would spontaneously purify the crystal and ensure it's perpetual renewal; it was by the grace of memory that mankind could grow and flourish and become.
Then, one fateful day, a star fell from the sky. The Carbuncles still clearly remember the events of this dreaded day, and several others, like Stiltzkin, have heard the tell of it. The meteor crashed headlong into the great crystal, shattering it into smaller crystals and scattering the shards throughout all of Ivalice. The meteor was also responsible for bringing the miasma that stole the world of it's life. Following the Carbuncles' advice, people built their towns and villages around the fragments of the original crystal. Seeing the crystals weakening over time brought the decision to start searching for myrrh in order to purify them. Thus were founded the first caravans.
The consequences of the fall of the meteor were grave. History and lore alike were muddled, lost and forgotten, and centuries passing insured the damage was unrepairable. The Yuke's segregated themselves as far north west as they could manage, having assumed the most crystal shards would have crashed by the Veo Lu Sluice, and therefore, the most pure land. The Selkie's found themselves in tragic disarray, scattering into tribes to hunt for a crystal that had fallen by waters that wouldn't be likely to succumb to the miasma. The largest of the tribes fell scouring the Conall Curach for crystal, myrrh and a fresh source of fish. As the years passed, they found themselves holed up in catacombs in the Lynari Desert, far from most civilisation, but alive. Lilties, though small and few, suffered the least deaths and fast claimed the largest crystal on the continent. They created an empire financed by the iron they seized the Mine of Cathuriges, and prospered for thousands of moon cycles until their source of iron ran dry and they could no longer control so much land, and their empire crumbled. This made way for the Clavats, who had scattered as far as they could see, and then farther, and survived. When the Lilty empire fell, the Clavat's joined their races with a marriage and shared resources to relight the great city of Alfitaria, and fight a common enemy; the miasma.
History, the meteor, had erased any other trace of life any selkic tablet or yukish rune hinted at, and the world moved on. The four races commingled for a millennium until a Tipan caravan dared Mount Vellenge. A Tipan Yuke by the name of Raeanalas Ozeriata Xalferi and his caravan ploughed through the fearsome monsters dwelling in the dark of the mountain and discovered the source of the miasma to be alive. A gargantuan monster of indescribable monstrosity that fended them off time and time again until their inevitable retire. Their children, and their children's children brought Tipa great fame and it grew to be a strong independent kingdom that gave life to great pioneers. Two centuries ago, a Tipan caravan pressed hard against the miasma behind Tida and discovered an old, broken trail through the wood and rock of ruined forest and gorge.
Tida, it seemed, had once been a rest stop between Alfitaria and the other half of the world. The Tipan caravan discovered many new crystals, new myrrh trees, and new life. Fearful of a war, Tipa retreated and colossal amounts of research were invested in the selkic tablets and yukish runes from all those centuries ago, before the meteor had hit. The outcome was nigh fruitless, learning only their names; Viera, Nu Mou, Bangaa. Politics then took precedence, and two halves of the same world were reunited via the Tipan creation of the 'Kinneas Pass'. A newly forged pathway through the old town of Tida, and through the wood and rock to make Ivalice whole again.
However, much outrage ensued the integration and accommodation of these new species, and it seemed Ivalice would not so easily coalesce. The Yuke's and Nu Mou had conflicting theories in their magics and science. The Bangaa were unpleasant on the eyes and ears, and forced themselves upon Leuda. The Viera's ways were strange, and unwanted and though elegant and wise, their presence made people's hackles rise.
Two hundred years later, present day, the racial hostility has slackened, and people have learned to accommodate their differences, but all is not well in Ivalice, and it seems again that Tipa will lead the charge to a better tomorrow.
An elderly man adorned in dark maroon robes, tied with a black sash hastily walked down the stone corridor toward the throne room of Tipa's castle, his arms behind him to support his hunched back and his greyed hair pulled taught behind him. Equipped in his hand was a parchment that contained the King's speech specifying this year's crystal caravanners. His cheeks heaved in and out, a dark shade of pink as he entered the large open hall that displayed the throne.
"Ahh, Roland." King Leo nodded as he entered. "Come." He gestured for the old man to approach, and waved away his steward with an emotionless "Leave us.". King Leo had become the mirror image of his father before him, King Epitav. His hardened facial features, thick eyebrows, and well maintained facial hair weaved seamlessly into his ash-blonde mop of hair, concealed by a regal crown of gold with rubies and sapphires engraved in it's circumference. He'd never taken up his father's priceless red-black cloak and instead sported a dark green with gold trim and coeurl fur around the neck, even keeping it's long whiskers that hung down to his waist.
"You're late." He stated as echoes of the stewards steps grew dimmer, leaving them alone in the throne room.
"Your Grace, I-" Roland tried to apologise, but Leo merely raised a hand. "Gods, Roland, I'd have thought you'd have known when I'm kidding by now." He smiled standing up. "You're the freakin' Hand of the King."
"My pardons, your Grace, but a King should not speak so-" Again he was silenced, and Leo stepped toward him in four large strides. "You're all tuckered out, old friend. Take a seat." He roped a hand around him and guided him up the thin, long steps toward the throne.
Roland quaked. "Your Grace, that is a beheadable offence! Please!" He flustered, trying to pull away. Leo smirked, letting him go a fraction away from the throne. "They're my laws, I wouldn't behead you, Roland. Really." He chuckled.
Roland breathed heavily, Leo had always tested his ticker to breaking point with his constant mischievous antics. "Don't do that to me, I'm too old." He groaned, tapping Leo with the rolled up parchment to emphasise.
"That's a beheadable offence. You just assaulted the King." Leo pointed to his chest, smiling and fighting off a laugh when Roland's face dropped.
"Ohh, sod it!" Roland waved his hands in dismissal, tired from his haste up the hall. He didn't have the energy to deal with the King's nonsense.
"Guards!" Leo bellowed, causing Roland to jump and turn in horror to him. "Your Grace, I beg you!" Five guards in shining steel armour thundered in, three bearing lances and two with their hands on the pommel of their swords, with shields decorated with Tipa's crest; an ancient symbol for 'Clavat' jutting outward from the ground to signify their pride in their farming with the silhouette of a mounted knight behind it.
"Your Grace!" The captain addressed him, clanging his spear to his shield and stiffening his limbs tall and proud. The rest mimicked him.
"Hm? Oh, yes. You're doing a marvellous job." He smiled, swaying a little in amusement at himself, his hand in a loose fist by his chest. "Dismissed! Thank you." He added after it had become apparent they weren't going to leave. Once they had, he spun around to the old Clavat with beads of sweat on his forehead. "What was it you were saying?"
Roland barely opened his mouth when Leo snatched the parchment from his hand. "Oh, yes. This." He skimmed the page in his hands. "That time of year again already, is it?" His brow curled into a furrow. "Who is Fira Raie?"
"Fee-ra." Roland corrected. "She is a young selkie girl. She shows much promise." He explained, and saw Leo's eyes move to the top of the page to re-read it all in full. Once he had, he nodded. "Alright, let's get it over with. They could be out collecting myrrh by now, if it hadn't been for your antics, Roland."
Roland's eyes rolled from under his eyebrows, and behind his large nose, and suddenly he was bustling after Leo down the corridor again, trying to match up with the King's lengthy strides. "Uh, my King!" Roland tried to talk and bustle at the same time, but for a man of his age, it proved more than difficult. "Might I ask you to...reconsider..the criminal, one last time?"
"Precautions have been taken, Roland. You know this." Leo half sang. "Y-Yes, the fire magicite, b-but what if-" Roland protested.
"What if he sabotages the chalice, yes, Roland. Gods, if I lived on 'what if's' I'd be...like you! Old, and weary, and...boring." Leo shook his head, though his eyes were focussed. Despite his answer, he had seriously reconsidered it in his head and still the same decision came to mind. He was absolute, there was more to it than met the eye.
"Your Grace, I really do insist." Roland blundered, tripping over his own feet. "Do you?" Leo rolled his eyes.
"How about a race, Roland? First one there decides whether or not he goes!" And with that, Leo jogged away, hearing Roland's voice call after him. "It's not safe! Even under Gill's watch! And remember, Fee-ra!"
The King cantered all the way to a stone balcony, where he was met with the roar of his people. He stood high above them, with four guards by either side, mainly just for show. Or so he'd always considered them to be. Down below, the applicants for the Caravan of Tipa stood in rows in the mud like cows for a cow race, with countless clavat and lilty guards on either side of them. More show. He thought.
"You are all the bravery of Tipa!" He began, "You, who stand here prepared to devote years to our land, and our families. You, who risks the dark of the caves! The fire of the mountains! And the cold of the sea! So that we, may grow and prosper! Know that those chosen, are our swords, our shields, and our pride!" He raised a foot onto one of the battlements, and for a split second thought he might fall right over. He thanked the Gods he didn't. "For Tipa!"
The crowd below shouted with glee, if anything, their king was good at making speeches, short and overdramatic as they may be. He knew how to work a crowd. He regained his posture and delicately unrolled the parchment. "Let it be decided that this year, the Tipan caravan will consist of one man or woman from each race within my walls! From this year, for all years to come if the circumstances permit." The crowd below shuffled, none of them would deny their king, but their were some more deserving, and certainly more Tipan than others.
Leo waited, expectant of outrage, and was pleasantly surprised when there was none. He heard Roland finally shuffle in from behind him and bow his sweaty head. "I will now read the names."
The entire city seemed to go mute and motionless, even the birds stopped to listen as Leo cleared his throat. "Beginning with those continuing to serve the kingdom from last year."
"Ser Gill Tully, his cunning and bravery will be the strong head of the Tipan caravan as it has been for the last six years."
Ser Gill took his place by the stationary caravan and stood with his fists firmly pressed to his sides and his chest puffed out behind his scarred, though polished steel armour. His jaw was hard, and his nose at a slight angle from it once having been broken. His eyes were a faded brown that matched his short murky hair. By his left fist, his sword lay sheathed in it's scabbard, and by his right, a selkie's racket, a deceptive weapon intended for breaking and bludgeoning.
"Second, Cass Godfrey, for his fourth year of service to Tipa. May your valor be as unending as your dedication."
Godfrey took a large lilty step forward, turned, and bowed to his fellow Tipan's, and then once to his King, before taking his place next to his commanding clavat. Gill was not a tall man, but side by side with Godfrey he looked stretched and weary. They were a similar age, but you wouldn't have guessed by the look of them. Godfrey's armour was a dusty dark mythril blue, and covered every inch of him bar small gaps by the joints. For the sake of the event, he had not worn his helm, so that he would be recognised. He stamped his halberd into the ground beside him, it stood just taller than Gill.
"By request of Cass Godfrey, his companion...Katie Gwyness," Leo said, unsure. "shall also take her place."
The crowd reacted in a mixture sour faces and smirks when a large bangaa stepped forward with a stern expression. There were four sub-divisions of bangaa, and Katie belonged to 'bangaa sanga'. Ash-coloured skin and a tendency to have more laid-back lifestyles than other bangaa, making it easier for them to interact with other races. She lacked much armour, it only proved to slow her down. Her skin was thick enough to compensate, even if only a little. A large studded vague kite-shaped shield of dark grey mounted on her back, and a serrated whip hung from her hip.
"Fourth is a new comer." Leo smirked, most of the 'cows' lined up below stiffened in anticipation. "It's a selkie." He teased, seeing most of the crowd slacken. "Female." He laughed playfully.
"Fee-ra Raie!" He eventually called, Roland breathed a sigh of relief that the King had remembered right. "For showing much promise and enthusiasm, may you serve Tipa long and proud."
Fira Raie screamed with joy, bouncing eagerly on the spot and hugging her two closest friends and skipping eagerly to take the fourth place. Her short blonde ponytail, and the hatchet between her and her belt bounced with her every step. She wore traditional selkic furs that brought out her brown eyes and hugged her figure well, her mother had told her to wear them, 'Represent Tipa and selkies.' she'd said.
"Hi Katie." She whispered giddily. "Aren't you excited?" She placed a hand on the bangaa's arm, but it was swiftly shrugged off.
"My name is not 'Katie'." The bangaa replied in a guttural hiss. Fira snapped back, and looked to the King shyly. Had he gotten the name wrong?...No, Cass Godfrey would have said if it was the wrong bangaa. Does she just not like me?
"Fifth is a previous caravanner of Tipa, returning to duty. Step forward.." Leo prepared himself to say the name. "Viola Hazelynn Teresya."
A pretentious looking female yuke took a step forward, and looked to the King for a prolonged time. It made Fira think the yuke was capable of telepathy, though Leo raised an uncertain eyebrow to Roland behind him. Viola was beautiful, or as beautiful as a person could be with no face. Her slender figure was given a rough edge from her golden armour, and half-concealed from a deep teal coloured cloak that darkened her tunic to look like a dark void instead of a body. Fira couldn't help but stare at the one horn on her sallet and wondered if there was ever a second, and how it got broken off.
"Next is Shaara Da'siir." Leo introduced, he felt like he should say more when she stepped forward and silence followed, but nothing came to mind.
The viera stood two inches shorter than Viola, though her rabbit-like ears put her in the lead. She placed a hand on her hip and looked up to King Leo, who nodded back to her. Her black armour was vieran, curling around her body like vines leaving a lot of her dark skin revealed. Just like the bangaa, there were vieran sub-divisions. Shaara belonged to the rava viera, who all had beautiful ebony coloured skin and a dominating presence. Her soft brown hair was down to the small of her back and wavy, tamed with three bobbles to keep it from getting in the way in battle. It hung over an elegant looking bow and quiver that had all been crafted in her homewood.
For the last member, Roland had disappeared from behind Leo. He and three guards stood indoors watching the ceremony from within. "Alright, he's next." Roland warned, turning to the nu mou. "Take off the shackles, you fools!" He waved at them, imagining the outrage when a shackled nu mou would take it's place on the caravan.
The guards hastily did as commanded, all the while getting hit by another scroll Roland had in his hand. "Lastly," Roland heard Leo say, and pressed a satchel to the nu mou's chest and stared him in the eyes, and he returned a nod.
"Rasksas Ceurin." Leo stated, and watched as the heads of the crowd turned to see the weary dog exit from the castle instead of the crowd. The nu mou were dog-like in appearance, being squat with elongated faces and tails. Rasksas wore dull mud-coloured robes, and the long brown and white hairs on his muzzle shook as he slowly hung the satchel over himself. As he took his place by the caravan, he groped at the bag and identified it's content. Emotionless and stoic as he seemed, he was pleased.
"And so we have Tipa's caravan. An incredible opportunity to secure the bonds between our races, and abolish segregation once and for all..."
While Leo was talking, a moogle wandered up to the caravan. "No mention, again, kupo." He said as he passed and hopped into the caravan.
"There's always next year, Kingsley." Gill dead panned with a tip of his head.
"Please take in the faces of these brave individuals, they fight for us."
The next two hours passed long for some, and short for Fira. The selkie knew almost everyone in Tipa, prancing from cluster to cluster of people wishing to wave her off. "Keep your eyes open around the bangaa. Selkie and bangaa do not get on!" She'd been warned. "Thank you." She replied with a generous smile, but she did not appreciate it. From a young age, she could not stomach racial slur, and had built up an unwanted tolerance of it. She and the rest of the caravan would prove everyone wrong, about anything, ever. She thought defiantly.
While Gill, Godfrey and Viola also said goodbye to those they knew in Tipa, Shaara, Katie and Rasksas piled their belongings in the caravan and conversed weakly.
"Shaara, do you not have sisters to see?" Rasksas offered, stealthily slipping his weapon up his robe sleeve.
Shaara made no eye contact. "They do not like the crowds." She said for obvious reasons, her accent strong on her 's'.
"Your sissters and I share a common, then." Katie contributed, hoisting some of Godfrey's bags into the caravan with a bitter look about her.
Gill returned then, giving each a stern look up and down. Katie was Godfrey's business, he knew her already. The nu mou was dangerous, yet looked old and worn out. He imagined Viola's words in his ear 'Do not misjudge him. His magics are remarkable.'. Shaara made his hackles rise each and every time he looked at her, there was something off about her that made him want to drive his sword through her throat and mash the remains with his racket just to be sure.
As if she had tried her telepathy again, Viola appeared next. "Are we to call you Captain? Commander? Boss?" She asked, a smooth edge to her words. "I'm out of practice with caravan etiquette."
"Just Gill, I can't be bothered with all that crap on the road. It's enough to bare here." He moaned. Viola stared at the racket that hung by his side, he clung to it as an arm rest and massaged it with his thumb.
Godfrey arrived next patting Katie patronisingly on the thigh like a mule. "Are we all ready?" He stood with his feet wide apart, his stout body pushed outward and his hands on his hips. "When the selkie is ready, we leave for Riverbelle Path."
Katie scoffed. "Child's play. There iss no challenge in walking a dirt trail and fending off mu's."
Rasksas gestured to Fira, who had began to skip over to them. "Would you prefer her first experience to be that of encroaching fires on Mount Kilanda?"
I would toss her in the fires heart mysself.
"Sorr-ee!" Fira sang, passing Gill with a touch of his arm, and then Godfrey with a demeaning stroke of his turnip-like head. "I'm ready now."
Gill moved to the reigns of the papaopamus that had been roped to their caravan, taking his seat on the heavily uncomfortable wooden drivers box. "Finally." Katie groaned in approval, slumping on the back of the caravan with her reptilian legs and tail hanging off.
Fira bounded up happily beside Gill and marvelled at the chalice hanging from a hook by his head. Marble white, with the silhouettes of every race engraved in the stone and golden trim around the bottom. It's stem curled around an imaginary bubble of myrrh that would soon be filled. A giddy excitement filled her. "Here we go." She said in a whisper as the caravan took motion.
Shaara and Viola joined Kingsley and Katie in the back of the caravan, while the rest walked alongside it as they took to the main road out of Tipa. Crowds framed them, and a collection of bards began to play while a songstress sang them out.
Dreaming of the stars on high,
That speak to me in secret sighs,
Drifting on a breeze only I can feel,
and hear.
Could it be the sacred wind?
That's calling me to now begin,
To walk into the dark,
Carrying the light of tomorrow.
Beating are the wings up high,
Beyond the earth, beyond the sky.
Come now, don't hesitate,
Don't look back, we've got to go now.
Don't fear,
You'll be safe from now on,
Morning sky watching over all.
The music soon began to fade, and the chalices bubble separated from Tipa's own, and all that was left was the creaking of wooden wheels and Fira's laboured breathing.
A/N: This first chapter goes out to my fellow caravanner The Trinity Tree because she seems determined to destroy her brain with molecular biology exams.