Cyrdic watched in rapt fascination as the Chaos wraiths crashed into the pike wall of the Imperial spectars, huge Chosen hacking apart southern armor with weapons he could only guess were enchanted with foul magics from beyond the wastes. The pikemen made a good accounting for themselves, shifting ranks and keeping their distance. Many of the northmen were spitted on the pikes, and the cannon battery silently belched into the air, the greenish smoke wafting from it so very real. 

"Cyrdic," Camilla whispered, grabbing his attention with a shake. The Ostlander turned, reluctantly looking away from the battle to see the hill that stood so very close to their rise. The stone column that loomed over the wooden structure... "That has to be it." He whispered. He knew of no barrows within the northern Wastelands. 

"Let's get this over with." The Justicar said, pushing past Cyrdic brazenly and stomping down their small rise, the snow crunching beneath his feet audibly. Cyrdic could clearly tell this whole trek unnerved him, and the Ostlander found couldn't blame him. However they needed to be smart about this.

"Hold." Cyrdic ordered, his hand up to halt the Justicar. Thaddeus Von Eikenhouser shot the ex-sergeant a look. "I will not. We're here for your friend. If we can't find him at the entrance to this thrice damned tomb, we're leaving and a warrant will be put out for his execution should he be found again. I made no vow to enter the tomb." 

"No one told you to come." Cyrdic growled. 

"I was not-!" The Justicar snapped back, or tried to before a low cracking beneath their feet interrupted him. Suddenly, the two men felt weightless, and darkness swallowed them up, followed by a hillside of snow. Camilla would suddenly hear further cracking approaching her position not a pace away, and the ground giving way. It was a short drop, but a hard one. The tilean courtesan landed on something a bit softer than granite. In the moonlight that filtered in, she would see she had landed on Cyrdic's chest. 

"Sigmar damn this place!" The Justicar cursed, rising from the snow and beating the wet and the debris off of him. Cyrdic sat up, giving a nod to Camilla. Both of them rose and did likewise, though the Ostlander seemed to stiffen. His sword pulsed with a wild energy. He had not felt it so strongly since Middenheim, when he had been within the vicinity of such a vast amount of warpstone that Camilla had collapsed. The memory and the howling of the sword sobered him from his fall, and he was as keen as a knife's edge once more. 

"Does anyone have a torch?" Thaddeus asked. 

As Camilla fished in her pack for one, Cyrdic could see the room they were in quite clearly. It was a dark catacomb, with two skeletons having been hung by their necks still swaying upon the eastern edge of the room. Behind the fallen hillside and the companions, stood an elaborate throne upon a curious three sided dias that curled upwards. In fact, the entirety of the architecture felt [i]wrong[/i]. The throne was clean but unnatural, the back of it ended at a razor point and its arms were curved in disturbing fashions, the end of each held orbs that glowed a murky purple that burned the retina to gaze upon. The sign of the Crow was at the center of its back, and the bottom was clad with what Cyrdic knew to be mammoth furs. 

For once, he agreed with Thaddeus. "Let's get this over with." 
[@Penny]