Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy Tactics Advance, or any locations, concepts, or characters first introduced in the game. They belong to Square-Enix. I do own these clanners, their personalities, and any mistakes about the things I don't own.
Snow in Roda: The Chronicles of Clan Whatsit
Chapter 2: Preparations
In which Tony sings anachronistic songs, Mat goes shopping, we meet the other three lunatics involved, and there is an argument over the clan's name.
Tony was apparently writing a song.
The bits and snatches that drifted out of his room were not recognizable to Roland as the unmistakable strains of Heartbreak Hotel, because there were about five people in Ivalice who might have recognized the song, and none of them were anywhere near Baguba Port. Roland was beginning to get annoyed with the song, for three reasons. The first was that all traces of the archer's accent disappeared when he sang, and Roland was positive that that shouldn't happen.
The second reason was that the following exchange was taking place with irritating frequency between the two of them:
"Will you shut that totemas-forsaken racket up!"
"Right y'ah, Genahral Roland!"
The third thing was that, although the archer was quiet after these outbursts, it lasted for about ten minutes. Roland was trying to review the responses they had received to their requests for members, and did not particularly want background music. The fact that he was trying to write a letter to his girlfriend at the same time was not helping.
He had just gotten to the tricky part when Matthias looked over his shoulder at the letter and decided to start offering advice. This was not, in fact, particularly helpful. Mat had never had a girlfriend, and was only applying general rules of courtesy, rather than specific very-careful-talking-to-girlfriend rules. Even the general courtesy wasn't as great as it could have been, filtered as it was through the mage's rather strange personality.
Eventually, Roland convinced him to go out and buy some supplies rather than failing to help with the letter. Of course, at that point, Tony decided to break off the songwriting and wander over to bug Roland.
"So, why're y'writing t'a dry, trop'cal plain?"
It took Roland a few seconds to realize that he was referring to the letter.
"Savannah is my … friend's name." Roland cursed silently when he realized that he had paused just a little too long. The archer gave him a serious look.
"Y'mean gihlfriend, doncha?"
"I suppose so," Roland sighed, knowing that any argument he started was one he was inevitably going to lose. "You're not going to try to help with the letter, are you?"
"Doubt it. Neveh had a gihlfriend; wouldn't know how t'talk t'one."
"Well, that never stopped Mat."
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The mage in question was debating whether to invest in Phoenix downs with the remainder of the budget, or to try to prevent their being needed by buying lots of Potions. He eventually decided to buy a few more things, then spend the remainder on Phoenix Downs and hope like hell that the white mage they got was good.
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"So, why've ya stopped just 'eah?" Tony continued, pointing to the end of what Roland had written so far.
"Well, thing is, that's the tricky part there. That's the point where I have to tell her that I'm forming a clan."
"What's t'big deal? Lotsa gihls'd love a clan leadah f'r'a boyfriend. Theah's lotsa prestige'n'money 'f ya good at t'job."
"Well, yes, I suppose, but the point really is that clans tend to spend long periods of time away from home."
"Ah. 'Fraid she'll find anotheh man?"
"Not really. She's not really that type."
"Ah," Tony said again. "Y'think she'll be 'fraid y've found anotheh gihl."
"That's about right."
"Well, 'm sure y'll figeah it out 'ventually."
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Four letters, three arrivals, two new hit songs (courtesy of Tony, who in fact had a surprisingly good singing voice), and one week later, not to mention countless arguments and (from Mat's point of view) far too many shopping trips (especially once Angeline, the viera fencer, joined), the clan was fully outfitted and ready to go. As they gathered in the common room of the Golden Gil, only one vital detail remained: the clan's name.
Laying the traditional rod of a beginning black mage across the arms of his chair, Mat proceeded to pace the floor, blue flurry robe flapping at every turn, as he gave a stirring oration in favor of the moniker of "Clan Whatsit." Roland had stopped paying attention by now, and reached up to adjust his green beret. Laying his glass bell on the table beside him, he brushed some imaginary dirt off of the sleeve of his leather garb and took stock of the clanners around him.
To his right was the empty seat vacated by Mat. On his left sat Tony, with his own green beret hidden under his pointy hat, wearing leather garb and with a longbow leaning against his chair. Tony had pushed for the name "Knights of the Tea Table," having dropped the "Arthur" when it was pointed out that nobody in the clan went by that name.
Beyond Mat's seat was the white mage Roland had insisted upon hiring, a nu mou by the name of Toby. Although Toby had called for the simple name of "Roland and Company," and he looked the picture of serenity in his white robes with his white staff lying on the floor at his feet, his eccentric nature was betrayed by the bright red wizard hat perched incongruously on his head.
On Tony's left sat Angeline. The fencer wore leather garb, and had the rather disconcerting habit of laying a naked blade, usually the rapier she carried, known as the Stinger, on the table in front of her; since there wasn't one here, she had opted instead for sharpening it as others talked, which was nearly as menacing. A ruby earring glittering in her long ear, she had spoken in favor of the name "Rebels Without an Existence."
Sitting across the circle from Roland was the only other sane person in the group, a white monk called Basil. Well, he was called "Bassil." As a bangaa, he naturally pronounced it with a double ess, and Tony and Mat had taken to mimicking his ssibilant sspeach. This was not out of any particular mean-spiritedness, but because Tony liked mimicking accents other than his own as an exercise in vocal control, and Mat just liked the sound. Basil, citing the magical nature of half of the clan, pushed for the name "Arcane Warriors of the Black Brigade." The reptilian humanoid cut an imposing figure in his leather garb and spiked boots, and one clawed finger was tapping impatiently against the arm of his chair, the movement hidden by the clawed Hard Knuckles he wore.
Roland became aware that Mat had finished talking and was poking him in the shoulder. Apparently it had been decided that, since everyone had voted for their own name, the leader got the casting vote. He stood up.
"Well, although I may seem biased, and although I'm flattered, Toby, that you'd see fit to include me in your idea for a name…"
"Get on with it," Angeline muttered.
"… I'm afraid I'll have to go with Mat's suggestion. Henceforth, we are Clan Whatsit!"