Cyrdic only recognized the Tilean words for 'their' and 'gravedigger.' Past that, he was lost, but he saw the glint in her eyes and knew what was going on. He couldn't help but grin, and pulled his cloak a bit tighter. Even a Northlander like he felt a bit cold in this biting winter. 

"Cyrdic" Camilla said, tugging his sleeve. He followed her finger toward the distant hilltop. His eyes were good, but Camilla's eyesight was always as keen as a blade. He could have sworn the figure looked their way and smiled, laughed even, though it was so far off he had no way to prove it. The Justicar looked at them with an infuriating and confused look, drawing a pistol. "Who is that? Is it him?" Thaddeus asked. 

The Ostlander shook his head, pulling his cloak tighter once more. But not for the cold. "That was not Karl." he said grimly. 

They moved onwards, heading down the hill carefully. There was no ice visible, but it still paid well to tread lightly as they descended, and then once the ground was even, the three found they had entered the sparse woods. Camilla's ghost was just up ahead when it had disappeared, the ubiquitously placed trees crooked under the weight of the snow upon their canopies. What bushes there had been were now leafless, gnarled claws. 

As they reached the crest of the small hill, beyond they would see more of the same. Except obscured by the snow filled tops of trees, now below them. 

"Cyrdic, I-" Camilla began, stepping forward before slipping on ice. On instinct he caught her before she could fall, his back now turned to the way they faced. "You ok?" 

"We need to get a move on." The Justicar began to order. It was just at that moment when a wickedly barbed arrow escaped the decline and banged off Cyrdic's Norscan Shield, right along where he had strapped it on his back. The arrow spun in mid air and fell upon the snow. Cyrdic and Camilla shared a look, before the Ostlander yelled. "Down!" And covered Camilla with his body as a dozen arrows were loosed. Half of them flew wide, the archers poor aims. Thaddeus had taken refuge behind an oak, and the other missiles were either buried in the snow or bounced off Cyrdic's shield. 

What followed was a bestial roar along with the echoes of an insane laughter. Cyrdic peeked out from under his shield in time to see beastmen loping up the hill, armed with axes and spears. Most of them were small, about a Dwarf's height and not nearly as wide. But some were mansized and white furred, with the heads of horses and oxen. 
[@Penny]