Bella and Briant are appropriately spooked by the events you describe. Bella holds your hand, and Briant holds his shield in his lap, tracing the scar made by the ghost-weapon that glanced off it. Now the ghosts, hostile and idle, are gone; and so is any proof of their coming. The moon - the skaven name Morskrit keeps answering first when you think of it - peeks through the clouds again a few times that night, but it brings no strange happenings with it, but none of you sleep until the sun comes up to glow behind the thinned out cloud cover.

"I think that is quite enough ghosts for one journey," Bella decides unilaterally as she bundles up a tent the day after, hunkering under a cloak that Briant has given her. "I've decided we should have no more; atleast for a few days."


If only she was right.

* * * * *

There are fishing villages all up and down the river Brienne, but the jetty Brienne leads you to is a charming little thorp that makes Bella Collina seem like Altdorf. Six small cottages serve the families that live here on the Carcassonne side and a similar arrangement awaits on the Quenelles side. Several barges operate the crossing with small teams of big old drafthorses; a small group of knights might board one side and travel to the other, though the current will naturally pull them downriver as they do. The knights would ride off, and the team of drafts on that side would dutifully haul the barge back upriver. When you arrive, the barges are in service on the other side of the river, so your trio is forced to sit and wait for a little while. It's still cold, though the snow is melting, but the sky is clearing and gleaming on the river's fair surface. You soared over the rivers Rema and Tarano in Tilea, but this is probably wider; and different from a perspective like this.

Your mind wanders back to the steam near Bella Collina that you followed, first to the troll cave and then down to the goblin camp...

Quote Originally Posted by Years Ago
As you proceed, your paranoia peaks and drops. You have never been in a place less dangerous than this seems to be. Not so much as a large animal crosses your path; and the dark feathered songbirds in the trees seem to have little fear of you. They perch, and watch you, and whistle their opinions to each other. Perhaps they, like almost everyone else you have met in your life, have conspiracies of their own.

The stream winds, and widens a little, then narrows and continues narrowing; still definitely wide enough that it seems a bad idea to wade into the water as it runs. Fish with shining silver scales and slim rose-hued fins zip downstream past you, in threes and fours. You walk, keeping your wits about you; resting when you want to, keeping your own schedule. But soon the sun in the sky has made its move, progressing across the sky away from the length of the stream; and the sky begins to change colors. You have not seen a sunset in a long time; and you are reminded that one of the small virtues of the underempire is the all pervading warmth of the deep places of the earth. It will be night, soon; and with night, you know, comes cold; and likely a need for shelter.
That was before Taalia; when you only had names given to you by slave masters, and a blurry memory of one given to you by people who loved you. You fished that stream with Gaulfredo and Vittorio several times, with Rocco snoozing amiably amidst you and in later occasions enduring the hyperactivity of Corvo.

The locals on this side of the water have a dog, too; a little black and grey 'Mirror Spaniel' called Hans by the Imperial pilgrim who left him with the locals on his way to Estalia to visit a holy site to Myrmidia. That was a year ago now, and though the locals haven't given up hope the owner will return, Hans has adapted happily to life on the banks of the Brienne. He is friendly and excitable, though he has a habit of spotting fish in the shallows and launching himself into the water under the forlorn supposition that he can catch them.

Spoiler: Hans
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You are afforded a little time to do some fishing yourself, if only to repay the villagers for the simple fare they adoringly lavish upon Sir Briant and his fair companions.

Spoiler: OOC:
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Bella can lend you her spare reel; so just for kicks, give me an Outdoor Survival roll at +20 to try to catch some fish. If you fail, Hans scares your fish away. If you nail it, maybe you get something special.


When the barge comes, Briant and the bargehands secure Cleménce in a stall for just such creatures while you pause to allow Milo a moment mew and bop at Hans's nose, before you turn to board...

It's been a while since you were on the water. The little dinghy in the canals of Miragliano didn't seem so bad; the safety of the buildings and the walls all around made it barely seem like a boat at all. But here, standing on the dock, preparing to submit yourself willingly to a bobbing deck of timbers and the current of the winter-cold waters... And for a sharp, disorienting second, you are back in a memory of the last time you made a similar crossing...

Quote Originally Posted by Many Years Ago, Made Worse By Nightmare
Hundrbrýtć was the word your captor used to describe you, in his foul language you never mastered; but you did not hear it used again, and so never understood it. Not a name for you, certainly. Meyla was what they called you; but they used the same name for all the young girl slaves. There was another like you, in the longship gliding back across the sea to the land of the savages. But when the cold set in on the way, and you and the handful of survivors from your village were shivering in silent desperation on the deck, she fell asleep, and never woke; her lips blue as the water out here. The sailors threw her body overboard, and that was the last you saw of her.
That was crossing a sea, not a river; but your blood chills in your veins as your feet seem to rebel, rooting themselves to the dock.

Bella, attuned to you acutely, notices quickly.

"Taalia? Taalia, what's wrong?"

Spoiler: OOC - Naviphobia
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Give me a WP test at -10%, or gain 2 IP and a panic attack. If successful, you experience anxious symptoms, but no mechanical obstruction and are able to remain rational.