Elanthia's Travelers: the Vanadre Chiras

Elanthia's Travelers: the Vanadre Chiras is an Official GemStone IV Document, and it is protected from editing.

Compiled by Scrivener Niuramet Stele of Ta'Illistim from the dictations of Moireen Ly'Glyn van Naraht and published in Ivastaen of 5125.

Beginnings

After decades of increasing anti-elf sentiment within the Turamzzyrian Empire, Chaston's Edict was proclaimed in 4310, barring all citizens of elven descent from owning land or businesses, and the elven emigration began. However, many half-elves who took to the road in search of a better life chose instead to transform the journey into a lifestyle. As more wagons joined, that lifestyle became a culture that celebrated the blending of elven and human heritages and fostered a resilient community of travelers who needed own neither land nor storefront in order to live fruitful lives and pursue trade across the breadth of Elanith. Thus began the Vanadre Chiras.

As our numbers grew, our caravans split into smaller vans and our wagons were adjusted to better handle wilder ways and rougher roads. Our paths diverged, but our connection remained, and we Chiras wove our routes throughout the Turamzzyrian Empire and the Elven Nations, into the Wastes and the frontiers, wherever trade, new songs, and stories beckoned. Where we went, we carried goods such as spices, herbs, pigments, and our own artisanal crafts. We brought our skills to trade for coin, as artists and artisans, and also as entertainers, performers of dance, music, acrobatic feats, and divination. Where a van made camp, a bazaar sprang up, full of colorful tents and stalls that welcomed all to trade and be entertained. In some regions, the local villages called these carnivals, for their festive air and resemblance to their own local fairs. After a short time, the van packed up and we continued on our way, occasionally blessed with newly joined traveling companions.

Conflict and war have always torn apart communities and created orphans and refugees, and the Elven Wars of the mid to late 4000s were no different in that regard. It was in these centuries we Chiras built ourselves a reputation for harboring refugees and helping them to safety, carrying them to new homes and new lives within and across national borders. So too have natural disasters and monstrous incursions robbed countless people of homes and loved ones, and so too have we Chiras assisted with succor and transport where opportunities arose.

The Ordering of the Vans

Vanadre Chiras culture grew out of half-elf solidarity on the road, the shared experience of traveling through lands belonging to the peoples who would not claim us as their own. The name we chose for ourselves carries shades of meaning: unity of purpose, shared burden, and a blending greater than the sum of its parts. We prize our hybridity to the point of veneration and maintain a philosophy we call vilarimas, which may be translated roughly as 'world-accord': an active, celebratory concept of living in harmony and symbiosis with each other and those of other cultures, worldviews, and practices. Where there is want or need, we seek to provide goods. Where there is sorrow and hardship, we seek to lift spirits with music and dance. Where there is uncertainty, we seek to bring the guidance of divination. It is in our connections to each other that we, all together, may flourish.

Individual vans may be as small as one family group or as large as several. The largest vans have perhaps the population of a small village. New vans split from established vans for any number of reasons: diverging travel or trade goals, internal strife, or even just a van grown too large for its habitual camps. While a van's name can be anything, most vans tend to adopt the name of a founding member or venerated ancestor as a way of honoring our history and as part of an oral tradition. Families within a van have individual family names, but we may choose to introduce ourselves with the name of our van instead of or in addition to that of our family. If making an introduction, we may offer first our given name, then our family name if we choose, then 'van' and conclude with our van name. Thus, I am named Moireen Ly'Glyn van Naraht.

Authority within the van falls to a collection of elders, usually the heads of our respective families and often our most knowledgeable and skilled artisans and tradesfolk. Chief among those elders are the Bellwether and the Sibyl:

• The Bellwether, often shortened to just 'Bell', is best described as the van's conductor and judge. The Bell settles disputes, breaks ties, and ultimately decides the van's route. They speak for the van at Revel and Chorus. The elders elect the Bellwether, who may or may not be an elder prior to taking on that mantle.
• The Sibyl is the van's foremost augur, as well as the keeper of its oral history, and the balancer of its bloodlines and social harmony. They serve as counselor, healer, and teacher. The earliest Sibyls were female empaths, but the position is not so restricted so long as the person can fulfill the needs of the van in their role. The Sibyl chooses and trains their successor, or if none is suitable, the Sibyllae of all the vans are petitioned to assist in providing one.

Outside of the elders, Chiras tradition holds that one ought to defer to others more world-wise than they, which can often be measured in years, but not always. Even children have been known to spout deep wisdom, and as a people who explicitly value our blended diversity, we recognize the import of listening to many perspectives.

The Trappings of Travel

Wagons and Beasts of Burden

We began as a people of the road, and so have we continued. Our lives and our livelihoods are on wheels, hauled by our scant livestock or, sometimes, our own selves. Each family in a van has at least one wagon, often multiple if their numbers and work support it, and may also have carts driven by their children or unattached youth. Our word for the Chiras style of living wagon is varayn, derived from our words for road and wheel. Some we construct to be particularly agile, incorporating extensive veniom fittings, and these we call varveni.

By any name, our wagons are homes. We sleep in them, work in them, house our belongings in them and upon them. Most of our meals we prepare around fires while encamped, but many varayns contain stoves for warmth and for cooking both. Some wagons are given over entirely to workshops, with their owners pitching a tent to sleep or spreading a bedroll beneath at night.

Our beasts are versatile working creatures, and a mare or a doe trained to pull a wagon might also provide milk. Our goats pull carts of belongings and trade goods while also giving us fibers to spin. Our piebald koza, a beloved goat breed among the vans, is particularly well adapted to our pace of travel, and their lighter hairs take a dye most excellently.

Scrivener's note: What is touched on here in brevity is greatly expanded upon in the supplementary publication entitled Living Wagons of the Vanadre Chiras.

Provisions

As we are ever on the move, we are always using different local ingredients for our meals, whether gathered, hunted, or traded for. Wagon herb gardens are common, built into the walls or corralled in pots upon the back-carriage, and allow us to handily grow what we might not be able to forage easily. Some even keep larger pots for vegetables or miniature fruit trees, or cultivate useful vegetation on their wagon roofs.

Onions and their close cousins are a regular staple, and onion soup with toasted (and often stale) bread is a mainstay. Along with soups, stews, and spiced sauces, roasted and mashed root vegetables and gourds accompany flatbreads that are sometimes stuffed with fruit and nuts. Wild yeast rolls are easy to make when flour is at hand. Wild game is roasted, stewed, or dried for jerky. We learn from a young age to glean along our routes as we travel, finding berries and wild greens of all sorts.

Spice blends travel well and are infinitely useful. One mixture you will surely find a variant of in any van is a sweet and smoky combination of dried onions or leeks, garlic, toasted peppercorns, fennel, bird's foot, cardamom, cumin, and mustard. Some choose to include cloves, hot peppers, nutmeg, and other spices. We call this jilabaht, spice-blessing.

Though not kept specifically as dairy animals, the van beasts that produce milk, such as horses, goats, and deer, add to our meals as well. Much of what milk we get from them is made into tiralza, a fresh cheese called Traveler's Cheese by others, which we flavor with garlic or wild onions, herbs like bird's foot and fennel, and dust with cinnamon. The rest becomes butter or is fermented into yogurt. Leftover whey is used to ferment vegetables, in rolls and biscuits, to soak grains and legumes, and in our soups and stews.

Stores of waybread, dried and salted meat, and dried fruit and nuts can be found in every family wagon as a guard against lean times.

The Cycles of Life

The pattern of Chiras life is viewed by many as cyclical. There is the cycle of learning, and then teaching, and learning anew. We leave the van only to return again, bringing back new skills, perspectives, or blood. Then too are the cycles of the seasons and the routes, ever looping but ever changing. Thus, life is familiar yet new in all its cycles.

Birth

Every new Chiras is a blessing and embodiment of vilarimas. During a pregnancy, the van Sibyl is consulted often as the mother's belly grows, and they usually play midwife to the child's birth. Using their senses, their magics, and divination, the Sibyl examines the child to determine whether their blood is blended and balanced, and thus Chiras.

Now, do not mistake me, this is no simple matter of conformation, an ear too pointed or too rounded, or an estimation of worth. The harmony of bloodlines is a nuanced thing, and a half-elf might appear to favor one side of their ancestry but hold within them a blending that makes them greater, that makes them Chiras. Our balance is a broad road, but in order to be Chiras, there must be a blending, a gestalt. A child found out of balance, whose blending has drowned, is deemed solaschir: beloved and welcome but lacking the inner harmony to be Chiras.

Those newly born into the van, be they infant or foundling of any age, are painted on the face with warm colors evocative of a sunrise for their Khencava Adreza, or welcoming celebration. This may be a dot on the forehead and chin, or a circle, or a depiction of the van's chosen emblem. Those that give their newcomers tattoos at this time will scribe dots or lines on the torso, and how those markings settle as a child grows will be interpreted at times by the augurs.

During this formal welcoming, one or more members of the van will be asked to stand as Revodin, or Guiding Wind, to the new member. This is a very personal position of teaching and guidance, and it is considered a great honor to be asked to be a child's Guiding Wind. The number reflects the parents or guardians; a single parent or sponsor will request one, a bonded pair will ask for two, a trio of parents seek three, and so on.

Youth

Work and play bleed together, and Chiras children begin helping with the day to day work of the vans, when camped and when on the move, at an early age. Children learn by doing and by listening to the oral histories of their elders, and they are given more complex tasks as they master simpler ones. When they're ready, and often even before reaching their adolescence, young Chiras will apprentice in useful trades with other members of the van. These may not be formal apprenticeships and may even be transient; children are encouraged to learn broadly and try many things to see where their aptitudes and their passions lie. Knowing many things shallowly can at times be more useful to the van than a deep but narrow knowledge.

Chiras youths are encouraged to leave the vans on short forays to trade, learn new skills, and mingle socially with the populaces of the regions through which we travel. This has its risks, especially in areas that cling to dim views of half-elves, and so we will often travel in pairs or small groups for safety. Even where discrimination against half-elves and others deemed 'outsiders' has been codified, most people prefer to respond to kindness with kindness, but it never hurts to have a comrade watching your back.

Bonds and Foundlings

In order to maintain the balance we value so highly, traveling Chiras are also encouraged to bring new blood into the van in the form of foundlings or prospective mates. New members from outside are welcomed into the vans first as solaschir, as adopted found-family, until they are settled. All must be examined by the Sibyl. No bond will be forbidden, but if there is concern that the issue of a union will not be within the balance, then it will be suggested that they foster foundlings or welcome a more favorable blending should they seek to beget a new generation.

Taking a mate from your own van is somewhat discouraged, largely because a van is much like an extended family. There may be discrete families within the van, but these do not stay discrete for long. Bond exchanges between vans are sought after when routes cross, in Chorus and at the Revel, and also help to enrich the lines. Arranged marriages between vans and with friendly village families are common.

While foundlings are most often communally raised, they are also sometimes adopted by individuals or families within the van.

Rites of Passage

When a Chiras first steps onto the footboard of their own wagon, they are said to become a 'wheel' of the van, a foundational member. The circumstances can vary; there may be no more room in their family wagon or their own work may necessitate or afford them a full wagon rather than a cart and a tent. They may be starting a family of their own. They may even be stepping into the role of an elder within the van. No matter the path, becoming a wheel is cause to celebrate and a memory to mark.

When a Chiras leaves one van to join another, most often as a result of a marriage bond, they zeto varayn or 'leap the wagon'. The leap is both figurative and literal, as part of the joint wedding festivities involve the ritual stepping from one wagon to another. The wagon of origin belongs to the departing individual's van, usually their family varayn, and the destination wagon belongs to their new van. Though the 'leap' can be a simple step from one footboard to another while both wagons are at rest, many prefer to enliven the tradition by performing daring acrobatics with the wagons in motion.

Marking Memories

There are three traditional ways that we Chiras mark memories among us, though not all are observed by everyone.

The most common and widespread practice is the carving and painting of our wagons and carts. While decoration for the sheer artistry of it also factors into the appearances of our wagons, many of the symbols, patterns, and imagery we choose are directly connected to our lived experiences. Births and deaths, bonds, adoptions, skill or trade mastery, accomplishments, all manner of meaningful life events for an individual or a family can be found painted upon, carved into, or wrought throughout the structure of a wagon, both inside and out.

Sibyls, weavers, and storytellers alike have taken to using threads as memory aids. What began as knotted strings grew into life tapestries woven or embroidered over a person's lifetime. These tapestries often have abstract elements, with gradients of color used to symbolize growth, upset, triumph, and tragedy. They also may contain symbols of travel, with cartography iconography a common inclusion, along with stitched depictions of prominent personal events and loved ones.

Many of us also ink our memories into our skins as tattoos, a practice that has taken root among numerous peoples and not just our human and elven ancestors. We favor bright colors and often incorporate many smaller, meaningful images into a larger, composite artwork. Memories of our travels, references to our ancestral cultures, and images from histories or stories that resonate may join marks given at birth, exchanged during a bonding ceremony, or commemorating the mastery of a skill.

Death and Mourning

For those left behind, mourning the passing of a loved one is a time of remembrance and sharing stories, dance, and music. Grief is embraced and so all of these have their sharp edges, but pain is easier borne when it is shared. These celebrations can last an evening or for days and will be echoed later when the vans meet in Chorus and at the next Revel.

When preparing the body of the deceased, a dark, vertical line is painted across their forehead by a member of their family or the van Sibyl. Some go so far as to mark a line bisecting the entire face, and others mark the forehead and the chin but leave the nose bare. This marking is called the Broken Wheel, or the Gate, depending on who you ask. The body is made clean, and their hair is shorn in part or in full. Their winding cloth may be any fabric woven by the van's weavers, and it is considered an act of service and caretaking to have woven the winding cloth of a fellow van or family member.

The deceased's body may be laid to rest before or after the final celebration of their life, and how that is done varies from van to van. Pyres are a common choice, as are simple burials accompanied by a tree planted with the body when traveling through forested areas. Memorials are left at camp locations or along the van route in the form of carvings into stone and tree.

If the van keeps the tradition of life tapestries, the deceased's tapestry will usually be burned at their end of life celebration, though if the family is not yet ready to let it go, they can keep it and burn it when they are.

The deceased's wagons, carts, and livestock may be inherited by their family or pass into the keeping of the van. If they are considered surplus, they might be offered freely to another van but never sold. If there is no one to take over a wagon or cart, it may be broken down for parts to repair others or burned in the spirit of transience. It is rare that an animal is surplus, but if that is the case, they may be cut loose or slaughtered to feed the van.

Later, the deceased's shorn hair will be mixed with other fibers and spun into yarn and thread that are used in memorial throws, blankets, wall coverings, embroidery, and jewelry. These are for kin and never sold.

Spiritual Influences

Duality resonates with us, and so we seek solace with the many siblings and pairings among the higher powers. Have you ever noticed how many gods and spirits have twins or siblings with complementary or opposing spheres of influence? Duality permeates the natural world and the spiritual, and this cannot be brushed off as mere coincidence. Even those powers who are not paired themselves are said to have two faces.

Because music, dance, decorative arts, and divination are so prized and practiced by the Chiras, primary among our spiritual patrons are the twins, Cholen and Jastev. One is our bright and mischievous Trickster, matchless in mastery of song and dance. His somber twin is the Auspex, who borrows his brother's colors to immortalize transient memory and foretelling with his art. Together and by turns, they teach us to grasp every moment, to celebrate them, and to honor them, be they joy or sorrow.

Clever and nimble Tonis is highly favored, and we call him both Traveler and Thief. Jaston, of the winds and the birds, is both a Guide for our augurs and the Gale that blows us off our course.

Other pairings commonly paid homage to are Imaera and Eonak, who encompass the natural world and fine craftsmanship, and Voaris and Laethe, who encompass the love, often touched with tragedy, that brings our bloodlines together. Ronan and Sheru together claim the night, with their dreams and nightmares intertwined.

Those born under the sign of the Wagon are considered blessed with the most wandering souls, and it is believed they will rise to do great things for their van. Augurs born under the sign of Jastev's Crystal are known to have the clearest Sight.

Gatherings and Celebrations

It can be said that any time a van makes camp for more than a night, there is a festival, and it would not be wrong to say so, given the traditions of performance and trade among us. Our proclivity is to celebrate whenever the opportunity arises. However, our greatest festivities are when the vans converge.

The Khencava Bareva, or Revel of the Winds, is a gathering of all the vans that can possibly attend and is named for the winds that scatter us in our travels and guide us back together again. It takes place every twenty to thirty years in a valley near the southern tip of the Dragonspine Mountains. The vans camp close to each other, reinforcing connections and making new ones, and the borders between them bleed and blend together. The venue serves as a weeks-long celebration and mingling of all the Vanadre Chiras whose vans might rarely cross paths in the intervening times. Music, dance, storytelling, contests of skill and craft, food, and of course trade of goods, knowledge, and ideas fill the days. The Bells confer together and judgments are cast as inevitably needed. The Sibyllae meet to share omens and portents, to review the collective balance of our people as a whole and suggest where pairings might be encouraged, and to offer their counsel as sought. The Revel lasts as long as it needs to, though rarely less than two weeks, and rarely more than three.

Four great ring dances are staggered throughout the duration of the Revel to mark important remembrances that honor our people. These are called hauro, which means 'dance of hours', and are named because they are arranged in circles like the sun and moons move through the sky, and also because they often span hours between arrangement, execution, and denouement.

• The Hauro Adreza, the Dance of Welcome, celebrates births. It occurs at sunrise, and the children, foundlings, and solaschir welcomed into a van since the last Revel are invited to a circle dance. If one is too young to dance, they might be held by a family member. If they are too ill or otherwise unable to dance, a family member may dance for them.
• The Hauro Rakhela, the Dance of Discovery, celebrates new bonds. It occurs at midday, and is a double ring performed by pairs. The couples switch partners many times throughout the dance, but they always find their way back to each other.
• The Hauro Zalajan, the Dance of Mourning, honors the dead. It occurs at dusk, beginning as the sun sets and ending at nightfall. Representative mourners paint their faces with exaggerated expressions and dance to celebrate the lives of those lost since the last Revel.
• The Hauro Varayn, the Dance of Wagons, gives respect to the vans missing, lost, or dissolved, then celebration for the new vans created since the last Revel. There is a transition in the middle for new vans created from the merger or split of old vans. This is typically the last to be performed before the closing of the Revel and has no set time by tradition.

Other notable transitions that occurred since the last Revel are marked by processions that snake through the camps with music and dancing and fanciful dress, as we Chiras love to show off. These processions celebrate new apprentices and master artisans, new elders, new wagons and new drivers, and a host of other shared accomplishments.

Whenever three or more vans converge by happenstance or design, a Chorus is called. The Chorus is much like a miniature Revel, where both recent and upcoming bonds, births, and deaths will be feted and the vans involved will make merry and share resources, news, and gossip. A Chorus rarely lasts less than three days, more often a week or so, and is almost always accompanied by a sprawling bazaar with invitation to villages nearby to trade and join in the festivities.

Two vans that cross paths and stop to enjoy each other's company are jokingly called a "Duet." These meetings are a common occurrence.

Arts and Trades

Our artisans and tradesfolk are foundational to the functioning of our vans, the very wheels of our wagons, one might say. This includes those who create material objects, like our blacksmiths, wainwrights, leatherworkers, and weavers, and also those who create transient experiences: our dancers, musicians, storytellers, and fortunetellers.

Metal, Wood, Bone, and Horn

Every van has at least one wainwright, with larger vans having several. Though our artisans often practice several different arts, as versatility is prized among us and our lives are long, the skills of our wainwrights in particular are integral to our travels. They design, build, and maintain our wagons and carts, and we would be lost -- sometimes literally! -- without them. They work hand in hand with our blacksmiths, who focus their efforts on the hardware and fittings of travel rather than the weaponry or armor you might find in cities.

Our wagons are by tradition highly decorated, both carved and painted with memories and stories. Our carving traditions extend to other objects, and few surfaces leave our hands free of artful texture. Even metal coins bearing the official imagery of their minting are not safe from the working of our hands, and re-graving their surfaces in subtle or dramatic ways, making them over in our own image, is a widespread hobby.

The horns and skulls of our livestock are precious to us. Chiras families do not keep entire herds and our animals are doted upon, often treated like beloved pets, if working ones. When one of our animals dies or must be slaughtered, the skulls and horns in particular are carved into intricate works of art. Horns and bones may also become knife handles, drinking vessels, or ornate utensils intended for heirlooms or gifts. Few of these will be traded away for coin. Whole, decorated skulls are often mounted above the door of a family wagon, or above the driver's bench in the front, and some find their way into camp and trail memorials.

Fiber and Hide

Fiber arts and those who practice them are particularly prized among the Vanadre Chiras. Our goats, especially the piebald koza that is our pride, provide us hair for spinning and weaving. We glean plant fibers from the wild along our van routes and also trade for other animal fibers and materials we do not or cannot make for ourselves. Our dyers share recipes for their most prized and vibrant hues amongst themselves and across the vans or sometimes keep them as secrets within their families to pass down to apprentices or descendants. Spun and dyed thread and yarn are used for weaving, knitting, embroidery, and to make all manner of decorative cord, laces, trim, and knotted jewelry.

Our looms are many and varied, but all must be portable, and thus they tend to be relatively small. Ribbon looms and card weaving are both practical and popular for decorative trim and long strips of fabric that are later stitched together. Backstrap looms can facilitate larger pieces and are easily rolled up for storage, and their rods are more easily replaced than the delicate and complex heddles of other looms. Small tapestry looms also find their use among us, often secured to the inner walls of wagon workshops and painstakingly maintained as heirloom tools.

Many vans choose to trade raw hides for leather rather than undertake the odoriferous process of processing the skins themselves, but some of our artisans instead practice closed-cask techniques for curing and tanning, position their wagons downwind of their fellows, and rely upon the results of their labors to overcome their aromatic impositions. Harnesses, boots, belts, and other leather goods always have some manner of decoration, be it ornate tooling, beading, or fanciful stitchwork.

Clothing and Jewelry

Everyday Chiras clothing is traditionally comfortable and utilitarian in cut. And yet, we cannot help but beautify everything we touch, so dyes, embroidery, and leather tooling are ubiquitous. Colors trend toward the bold and the bright, with dyes and their components sourced from all over our routes. We wear what withstands the rigors of travel, what can be layered, and what we can decorate. Cotton, linen, wool, and leather may bear accents of richer, fancier fabrics, but most save delicate materials for performance. Few of us have room for extensive wardrobes, and our routes span an array of climates, so we have found that layers and multi-purpose garments suit our ways best.

A typical array of everyday clothing may include:

• Tunics, which we often wear layered with contrasting and complementary colors. These may have sleeves made detachable with laces both decorative and functional.
• Vests, worn over tunics and usually heavily decorated with embroidery, trim, linings, and buttons.
• Skirts run to stitched tiers to showcase a variety of colors and fabrics, sometimes even layered skirts, a style brought to us from the Tehir. Skirts are bound up when wagons are in motion, and leggings or trousers are often worn beneath.
• Loose trousers are bound below the knee or taper to a close ankle, if they're not tucked into boots. Banding, patches of color, and piping are common decorations.
• Tall, sturdy boots, worn by nearly all, are usually crafted of leather or oiled canvas with thick soles. We are ever on our feet and walk nearly as much as we ride, so quality footwear is incredibly important to us. Laces, buckles, tooling, and carved or wrought metal accents are common.

For winters in colder climates, close-fitting and relatively short coats are worn when on the move. When camped, blankets become cloaks, and vice versa. Gloves and mittens, knit caps, and scarves (with their ends safely tucked, of course) are also common.

The khenca jacket is of a style that grew out of our travel and work needs for a fairly close-fitting outer garment that allowed full freedom of movement. Eventually, it became a traditional performance costume component. Its traditional length is very short, rarely extending past the base of the ribcage. The khenca is characterized by a curved front opening with either no securement or just one toggle or button and a very short collar if any collar at all. The tailoring through the shoulders allows the arms to move freely. While the sleeves can be any length, the traditional khenca has three-quarter length or full sleeves, though it is not unheard of to leave off sleeves entirely and wear a khenca as a vest in warmer weather. Like everything else we wear, these too are commonly decorated, most often by embroidery and sometimes with polished metal or glass stitched in for extra flash.

Our performance and festival wear are lighter, more fanciful fare. The carefree swirl of brightly colored fabric draws the eye and delights the senses, and when we are camped, we have no fear of catching a a stray fold or drape in wheel or harness and doing ourselves or our garments harm. Kerchief skirts are a dancer's joy, as are baggy pants with slashes or fringes to catch the air. Ornamented cinchers and girdles of tooled and painted leather bind blouses with billowy sleeves of contrasting color. Vests with trailing ribbons and fringe are worn by many, and those who eschew the cinchers may instead wear colorful wrapped sashes or wide leather belts to narrow their silhouette at the waist. Bare feet and boots are both common for dancers and musicians alike, depending on the terrain and the climate. And then, of course, the khenca over all.

Our jewelry arts most often involve knotted cord and found objects: wood, bone, and horn gleaned from nature or scrap heaps and carved, graven coins, buttons, beads, and accents of metal and glass crafted by our own or traded for. We call this art nakheva, and almost never are any two pieces made alike. Some of our artists choose to weave metal wire as though it were thread or yarn, and these woven works are incorporated into adornments with fibers and other objects as well, rather than stand alone. While traveling, we may wear one or two pieces at most, often safely tucked. However, when making camp for trade and performance and at Chorus and Revel, we will adorn ourselves lavishly, both to advertise our skill as artisans and for the sheer joy of it.

Performance

Our oral traditions tell us that our songs and our dances were born of vilarimas or, perhaps, are their genesis. We perform to connect with others, and when we perform, through music, dance, storytelling, acrobatics, art, and even divination, we also connect with ourselves, individually and among each other in fellowship. Performance is a bridge, a rope thrown to a stranger, a sturdy nakheva lacework that binds us closer to each other and impresses the greater patterns of the world upon us. It is communication and celebration, a shared joy and an invitation.

Our performances facilitate trade, and turn, trade further facilitates our performances. We invite those outside our fellowship to celebrate with us when our vans make camp near their villages, to be entertained and share in our joy and our wonder, and to linger with us for a time to see how we might enrich each other. We foster ties among them with these invitations and grow richer from those ties as much as from the coin that trades hands. Thus has performance become an integral part of our culture and our traditions.

Our music is boisterous and energetic, and even when it is plaintive, it is bold. Our songs are often carried by our pipes and strings, and while we have no dearth of lyrics to sing, our voices are just as often raised in wordless accompaniment to our instruments. Our storytelling is often supplemented by music, though it has a rhythm of its own that is not song. The tales we tell have their roots in all the corners of Elanith from which our bloodlines spring. Much like the blendings that make us Chiras, they have shifted into new shapes that yet echo their origins, and will shift again.

Like our music, our dances are vigorous, even when their tempos mellow to a more languorous beat. We seek ever to communicate our joy, our striving, the richness of the world we move through, that we embody within and observe without. We dance alone, we dance together in pairs, in trios, in myriad company. We fling ourselves into each other's arms, upon each other's shoulders, and we are caught and flung again. We support and are supported in our joy.

In truth, these words cannot properly convey the physicality of our traditions and techniques of performance, they must be experienced.

Divination

It is natural to seek after sense and meaning in the chaotic storm of life, and it is said that the choices of our forebears to veer away from the exodus and blaze our own roads, to never cease our traveling, were inspired in part by fortunes told. Thus has divination in its many forms been woven into the fabric of Chiras life from its inception. Those diviners who counseled us so early were enshrined in our leadership as the Sibyllae, and each van has its Sibyl to help guide its people.

We call the practice of divination dravasi, or 'truth-finding'. Those who practice in a dedicated fashion, regardless of form, refer to themselves as dravan, or augur, though others may practice casually and accept a more humble appellation of reader, dowser, or other term that relates to their preferred method. 'Fortuneteller' is the most flippant and generalized of terms and, depending on context, may refer to someone acting as much in performance as in true divination. That said, it is not intended as a pejorative, as showmanship is well-regarded among us.

Many of our augurs draw upon the plethora of divination practices passed down from our human and elven ancestors, such as those involving smoke or incense, tea, tiles and cards, wind, and water. So too have we our own practices, which in the spirit of chiras have been developed from a blending of our ancestors' traditions. Two of these focus on guiding the van toward safety or away from danger, and the other two are more interactive, personal, and are more often practiced as a service or in trade.

• Dravasi rakho, or dowsing, has its roots with both the Tehir of the Sea of Fire and the dark elves of the Southron Wastes and is particularly favored among those vans who traverse the most arid stretches of the continent. Water is most commonly sought after, but a skilled dowser may find their dowsing rods, intricately carved of wood or bone, drawn in the direction of any manner of desire. Many a wagon has found its way through a dust storm, guided so.
• Dravasi lyaht, or the guidance of birds, is a melding of elven traditions that draws from the Sylvankind, the Ardenai, and the Illistim all. It involves observation of the movement, behaviors, and calls of birds, and to do this well requires knowing what is common and what is uncommon for the birds under observation. Those that practice this manner of divination must be both scholars of nature and keen of eye. The patterns revealed by a startled flock taking wing, or by a morning cacophony of birdsong, can be interpreted by a skilled augur to guide the paths of a van's wagons and trade decisions alike.
• Dravasi stragyra, or bone-casting, came to the Chiras beneath the guise of dice games. These days, those who throw the bones collect and carve wood knots or decorate the cleaned knucklebones of goats, sheep, or other hooved livestock. Every caster's collection is unique, and this affects their nuances and inflections of meaning, but there are also common interpretations of coloration, symbol, shape, and position of rest once cast.
• Dravasi calevo, or palmistry, grew from touch, from the caring hands of healers both human and elven, and it is used to divine life's paths. What has gone before influences what is to come, and both of these can be read by a skilled palmist in the lines and formation of the hands. This is perhaps the most personal of our methods of divination, and Chiras readers who practice this art as a trade often drape their offerings in the trappings of ritual, swathed in silks amidst candlelight and gentle scents to soothe and to magnify the intimacy.

A van's augurs may offer their services to outsiders while camped, at the bazaar. When scrying for trade, some choose to obfuscate their methods or lean into showmanship to make their divinations an experience not unlike a performance. Because of this emphasis on showmanship, our augurs are sometimes scoffed at as charlatans, especially when their divinations and predictions are not favorable to the customer.

Divination is also employed when adjusting the van routes. Routes change in small ways from year to year due to terrain changes or conflicts in areas through which we travel. The van's Bellwether will consult with the Sibyl foremost, but also with other van augurs, when facing route changes and factor the scrying into their route decisions.

Language

Like ourselves, the tongue we call Chirasen is a blending that draws from sources as numerous and as varied as our lines of descent. Many of our words have their roots in wildly different Kannalan and Elven dialects, and some Sylvan influences are clear as well, such as with our word for bird, lyaht, which derives directly from a Sylvan term, lyatala. The origins of other words are less clear; akhai, which means "now" or "immediately", is thought by some to have a Kannalan root, but others have speculated that it may align more closely with the phonetics of dark elven. Some have referred to our tongue and its variations as a 'trade dialect', which is certainly not wrong -- we are traders, after all.

Just as our words have grown from the crossing of disparate roads, so too do they have offshoot paths of their own. Take, for example, our verb khenco, or khencal when applied with plural subjects. It translates to Common as "to dance," "to play," or perhaps "to perform." From that action springs khencava, a dance event, or a revel, and also khensir, a dancer, one who dances. The neutral khensir in turn spawns khensiri, a female dancer, and khensiro, a male dancer, if one so chooses to specify.

Similarly, from such branching paths is drezo born, which is a greeting, a way of saying "hello." It derives itself from adreza, which is the concept of welcome or hospitality that in turn is derived from adrezo or adrezal, which means to invite or to await.

If one greets, one must also bid farewell, and this word in Chirasen is lajni.

Some of our everyday words have gentle and strong variations, such as our affirmative, va, which is like the Common "yes". A stronger affirmative is vaya. Just so with a negative: ne for "no", neso should one wish to assert that more firmly.

Idioms

The Chirasen phrase "vojalos ival chiras" means, more or less, "joyful are the blended" and is oft spoken alone, with reverence, with pride, and at times, with teasing merriment.

Usually used as a reminder or chastisement against growing too confident or cocky in one's good fortune, the Chirasen phrase "baht risal" is literally translated to Common as "good luck changes," though "fortune is fickle" is a more poetic translation, if not quite literal.

Words Unspoken

Though the Common tongue is ubiquitous throughout Elanith, and the evolution of Chirasen has drawn upon our many other mother tongues, we have found it useful to use sign and gesture to communicate amongst ourselves or with others where speech fails, becomes unsafe, or is otherwise undesirable. Our children grow up learning the motions of svekhenta, the speaking dance, alongside Common, Elven, and Chirasen, and we easily fall into the habit of casually interweaving it into everyday communication with gestures broad and small. Sarcasm is often expressed with the speech of the hands not matching that of the mouth. Many among us also refer to this language of signs as svekni.

Words Unwritten

We may speak many tongues, but it is very common for a Chiras to be unlettered. We do not commit our histories, songs, and stories to the page. Instead, we share them with our spoken words, our dances, our gestures, in music made, in tapestries woven, in cords knotted, in wood and bone carved. Some of our elders would say that because of this, we are unburdened by the weight that bears down the sedentary peoples and binds them in paper chains. Others among us would say this rejection of the written word is less ideological and more practical. Regardless, many born to the vans do not learn to read or write fluently in any tongue until undertaking our travels apart, and may not even then.

Recent History

As a people we have long embraced the road, but there have ever been those among us who longed for the stability of stone foundations. Some left us to create sedentary communities, like Auruna Khan'Kel, Bellwether of Van Khalili, who settled in River's Rest with most of her van and founded the Bazaar that still bears her name. Though she and hers mired their wheels, still they kept the spirit of the Chiras in their hearts and made their home a place of welcome for trade and for different peoples to mingle and blend. Despite their leave-taking, their actions proved them to be part of us still.

We have lost others, more recently and more tragically, in Jantalar's war and to the persecutions of Chaston Griffin's Blameless crusaders. Whole vans went missing in the blighting of Talador. They are still unaccounted for and their deaths will be danced at the next Revel.

The repeal of Chaston's Edict in 5122, announced far and wide across Elanith, fulfilled the nascent promise of the treaty between the Turamzzyrian Empire and the House of Illistim signed at the Valley of Gold in 5119. Though some might view the pronouncement as a mere formality, among the Chiras it is known to be profound. Some van routes have already changed, and our wheels traverse the busy high roads more often now than they did in years gone by. A few vans may follow Khan'Kel's example and settle, now that the nations and the very peoples we bridge in our travels have come to a better accord, but most of us will continue our journey, for it has transformed us. We are in and of the Empire, just as we are in and of the Elven Nations, traveling, trading, perpetuating vilarimas in ourselves and others -- becoming greater than the sum of our parts.

Scrivener's Notes

It should be understood that my client's style of dictation was given to spiraling into tangents and tales all throughout the process of committing her words to paper. I have endeavored to retain some of these in the footnotes referenced below. -- N.S.

OOC Notes & Credits

• Written by GM Gyres with contributions, feedback, and support from GMs Casil, Elysani, Itzel, Thandiwe, Tivvy, Warlockes, and Xynwen.
• Publication Date: 5/26/2025
• The concept of the Vanadre Chiras was inspired by the Roma, the Irish Travellers, and the Yenish people.
• The Chirasen words included here were influenced by a number of Romani dialects, as well a drawing from existing Elanthian language lexicons of Elven, Sylvan, and Kannalan.

Chiras styles of craft can conceivably be found throughout the continent of Elanith and are not restricted from use in alterations.

• Nakheva is the Chiras version of macramé, and the word can be used in the same fashion.
• The khenca is an Elanthian bolero, a short jacket-like outer garment. The term 'khenca' can be used as a noun or used as part of the adjective with a noun of 'jacket' or 'vest'.
  • When using 'khenca' as the noun, the garment can be assumed to be the jacket form unless otherwise stated in the short or long description.

Examples:

• an embroidered / red silk khenca / jacket
• a bead-fringed / azure khenca / vest
• a silk-lined / ebon wool / khenca (this is a jacket)
• a sleeveless / scarlet linen / khenca (this is a vest)