Devoe's Tale
November 2007
This was and is my first fan fiction project which I started ages ago. I've only recently decided to work on it again, and have removed the original 3 chapters which I left incomplete. Consider this a fresh new start on the story – the characters and plot remain mainly the same. Please read and review.
Chapter 1 - Clan Anarchy
The tavern was bathed in an ochre glow by numerous oil lamps hanging from the rafters. Devoe kept his melancholia in check with a constant stream of drinks. His nerves were frayed by the discordant noise of the untalented musicians playing in a corner. For the past few weeks he had been desperately searching for a job – at best, he could carry crates at the docks for a dozen gil an hour. Without qualifications or previous job experience, he was consigned to menial labour, which was barely enough to pay for decent lodging and food in Cyril.
Devoe shifted in his seat, taking a perfunctory glance at the resident notice board, long resigned to the absence of any prospective job offers. A moment before he dismissed his hopes, an illustrated sheet of parchment caught his eye. It featured a motif of a stylized fist thrusting into the air, above the caption, "Join Clan Anarchy today!"
After a brief discussion with the barmaid, it became clear that the aforementioned clan was only recently formed and its leader, a certain viera by the moniker of Tanya, sought members to join its ranks. With fresh hope, Devoe departed, already mentally planning his journey and calculating the supplies needed.
His trip to Sprohm on foot passed uneventfully, which was fortunate as he travelled alone, and arrived shortly after dawn. The imposing towers of the infamous local prison dominated the horizon, giving a somewhat ominous impression to new visitors. From the hills overlooking the town, Devoe could see ravens roosting among the black spires that thrust into the morning sky. Nevertheless, his mind was set. He then descended into the streets of Sprohm.
Throngs of people were making their way to work, sparing precious little space for Devoe to manoeuvre. With some trouble, he made his way to a boarding house on the edge of the business district, where Clan Anarchy had set up a headquarters of sorts. Before long, Devoe found himself knocking on their door, anticipation welling up in his throat. He straightened his posture and attempted to make himself appear presentable, just as the door opened abruptly.
"Looking for a place in the clan, by any chance?" said the viera at the door, her expression friendly and her slender ears perky with optimism. Devoe found himself stumbling over the speech he had rehearsed to himself countless times. "I'm here, uh, to join… you know, um, the advert, the one you posted, I mean, well, this is Clan Anarchy, right? Um -"
"Hey, slow down. Take a moment to gather your thoughts, and try again. Don't worry, I don't put too much store in first impressions." the viera offered kindly. The hundred alarm bells that were going off in Devoe's mind were silenced with sheer relief as he recovered his wits. He then introduced himself much more succinctly and before long was welcomed into the clan. "I'm Tanya, the leader of Clan Anarchy. We're still quite new and short on members, but that will be remedied soon enough." the viera said with a smile, shaking hands with Devoe. She invited him inside to meet the rest of the clan.
The room had a slight trace of fresh paint, which was not altogether unpleasant. Furniture was sparsely distributed, revealing a taste for Spartan furnishings. The centrepiece of the room was the sturdy oaken desk that was covered with documents and clerical supplies. A banner hung on the wall behind the desk, proudly displaying a familiar symbol in crimson hues, which Devoe recalled as the clan's emblem. As he took in his surroundings, Tanya explained that due to space constraints, the entrance room served as an administrative office, while the adjoining rooms housed bunks and an armoury.
She then pointed at the door leading to the clan quarters, indicating that he should introduce himself to the rest of the clan. "Those bureaucrats at Bervenia have nothing better to do than arbitrarily requesting form upon form to be completed before they will recognize a clan officially in engagements," Tanya commented snidely, before putting on a delicate pair of pince-nez and immersing herself in work. Devoe had little choice but to muster up his courage before entering the next room.
His entrance raised some heads in his direction. The chill of apprehension crept up his neck as his fellow clan mates sized him up. Closest to him was a gruff-looking bangaa who was in the process of polishing a gleaming bassinet helm. After acknowledging his presence, a nearly inaudible grunt emanated from the bangaa's snout, the nature of which Devoe was unsure – aggressive or apathetic? Unnerved by this apparent lack of warmth, he quickly sidled on to the adjacent bunk.
Next to the bangaa was a lad of maybe sixteen sitting on his bunk, with a motley collection of wallets, purses and bags piled all around him. Sparing mere seconds for the new arrival, he mumbled a jovial "Cheerio, the name's Victor," before returning to a count of "thirty-four thousand eight hundred and twenty-two" while rifling through the contents of a brown envelope with a roguish grin on his face. Devoe's hand instinctively went to his coin pouch while he silently made note of this potential danger.
The remaining person was bent over an exquisitely crafted flamberge, sharpening it with an old whetstone, paying much care to the sword's maintenance. The weapon had a keen, undulating blade which glistened slightly in the light. It appeared to be of foreign manufacture, perhaps forged in the northern regions of Ivalice. Devoe, having an avid interest in field of weaponry, decided to ask, "Excuse me, sir, I'm curious to know where you obtained that sword."
Laughter erupted from the nearby bunk as Victor fell over, clutching his sides. Devoe started to regret his mistake as the weapon's owner slowly stood up, revealing an obviously feminine face that was currently contorted in an expression of rage. Backing away, face flushed with embarassment, Devoe was about to apologize profusely when he bumped into Tanya. She had just chosen this innopportune moment to see how he was fitting in with his new clan mates. Apparently, it hadn't gone very well.
"I see you've met Samantha. Hmm, she doesn't look very pleased. Was it something you said?" Tanya mocked playfully, nudging Devoe in the side. Samantha looked ready to injure something. Devoe began to worry that he might soon be on the wrong end of her sword. Victor piped up, "Well, he just proclaimed that Samantha here was of the male persuasion, so yeah, it was probably something he said."
Samantha glared coldly at Devoe before returning to her interrupted task. "She's always like that to newcomers, so don't get too worried. She's nice enough once you get to know her," Tanya offered, hoping to defuse the tension in the air.
"If by 'nice' you mean 'unbearably frigid' then I'd have to agree," Victor chipped in, just in time to receive a blow to the head. Victor teetered dangerously before falling off his bunk, worsening his injury as he hit the wooden floor. As he groaned in pain, Samantha walked over and retrieved her whetstone, which she had just used as a makeshift projectile. "Seeing how she behaves, I'm starting to think the new guy had the right idea after all," Victor mumbled, rubbing the bruise on his head.
"What was that? Was it a request for me to continue hitting you?" Samantha replied, waving the whetstone about threateningly. Victor ran to hide behind the imposing figure of the bangaa warrior, yelping in mock fear. "Save me from that horrid woman, Nathan. She may look human, but if I didn't know better I'd say she has the heart of a lamia." A smirk grew upon Nathan's reptilian features as he stepped aside to let the glib-mouthed teenager to suffer his fate.
"They're always at it, those two. It's as if Victor enjoys provoking her just for the sake of it," Tanya assured, as Samantha chased Victor out of the room while brandishing the whetstone. Devoe smiled nervously, hoping that his blunder would be soon forgotten. His first day in a clan and he'd nearly made a complete fool of himself. "Well, it can only go uphill from here," he thought to himself.