[WFRP2e] The Power of One - Part 2 - "Transire Benefaciendo"

[BananaPhone]

Taalia Giovanni


It seemed that fate wanted to repeat her departure. When she fled the underground empire of the Skaven, she emerged upon the surface with the closest thing to a relative - as perverse as it was to think of - requiring a burial. And now, now that she had left the sunny lands of Tilea, she was being called to once more dig a grave and say some final words for one who had been good to her.

Naturally, her bond with Cestie had been more than what it had been with Rashabag. The ratman had not been consciously cruel, but his kindness steeped from the absence of cruelty, rather than deliberate impartment. Cestie, however, had fostered Taalia's development ever since he met her, providing an aged and experienced mind and arm upon which she could rely, learn and draw inspiration. Such had been his influence that she had continued her fascination with the mechanical, learning how to craft firearms beneath his tutelage and even becoming familiar with the workings of his flying machine. Naturally, she could not recreate itself from the plans, not yet anyway, but she had come to understand enough that she was able to assist with the experimental procedures and test-runs so that they could further refine the craft that had brought them so far...and yet had met such an ignominious end.

And so, battered, bruised and aching though she was, Taalia set to work digging a grave for her adoptive grandfather, and she kept at it for hours. She was a tough girl, used to hardship and toil, and it showed when she used that small spade to dig a hole six feet into the ground and wide enough that Cestie could be laid within, wrapped in an impromtu mumification with the materials from the damaged wings of the craft. Though it was the best they could do, Taalia knew that Cestie would probably find the situation amusing, and that made her smile just a little.

Filling in the hole wasn't as difficult, but it was still arduous and time-consuming. Hours and hours of gravedigging and re-allocation had passed before the girl was able to stand before the grave and utter a prayer from the little book that the High Priestess of Verena had handed her. Taalia had crafted a headstone from the remnants of the craft and Bella had picked some local flowers to lay upon it as a small wreathe. It was the best they could do under the circumstances.

"To Nuln he had told me," Taalia spoke while standing upright before the gravesight. She spoke both to herself and Bella, her eyes focused on Cestie's resting place.

"To Nuln, Maso Cestie. Thank you for everything," she concurred with a gentle nod, "we have to cross the mountains still to get there. We will see you on the other side."

oOo

Taalia spotted the lone little shepardess, her large rod ending in that curl intended to wrap around a loose sheep and draw them back into the flock. She looked barely younger than Taalia had been when she emerged from the Under Empire, and that she was out here on her own meant that she was either under extreme circumstances, or it was safe enough for her to do so.

Taalia herself was now dressed in all she had; her clothes, her armor, a rifle slung over one shoulder, Bella carrying the blunderbuss, her pistols on her hips, her shield on her back and sword sheathed. Around her shoulders was an impromtu harness that was hitched to the remnants of the flying machine that the girl was dragging behind her. The machines wheels that had been used to help land and take off were now serving a second purpose, as they allowed the taller, stronger Taalia to act as a human mule and pull their broken craft along with them as the rest of their belongings were stored within, as if it were a particularly ugly, skeletal cart and she were the donkey.

Should the girl look over in their direction, Taalia would draw one gloved hand up and give her a wave before continuing on their way. Bella and her were now strangers in a stranger, but beautiful land. It wouldn't do to bother the locals. No, they were much better off getting onto that main road and following it to a population centre. There, someone was doubtless able to speak Tilean, and there they could rest, recover and figure out how the hell they were going to continue now.