Araby, Camila thought, or maybe the new lands across the see that the Tilean’s claimed to have discovered. Any place that had never heard of an accursed snow flake seemed fine to her at this particular moment. She as picking her way up the snowy bluff, stumbling and slipping with each few feet on the ice sicked rock. Above them from the top of the bluff she could see the storm of sleet being blown in by the Sea of Claws. It was a mad season to make war, but these were mad times.

 The weather had turned foul the afternoon of the second day and even with such a small force progress was slow and painful. There were only thirty of them but they were all veterans whom Ivan had selected personally as much for their stealth and wood craft as for their abillity with weapons. Three of the group were sallow faced hunters from Hochland and each of them carried a long rifle. The weapons were nearly as long as Camilla was tall and each had the look of a hand crafted piece, lovingly maintained by generations. 

The Tilean herself was the most out of place in the company having no particular knack for the outdoors, but she was small and quick and smart enough to follow the lead of Ivan Petrovich and his band of hand picked killers. She was glad of the trio of Kislivites. Only one of the men was from the Count’s force, the rest being made up of mercenaries and she didn’t doubt that their uses for her without Petrovich’s backing would be few and predictable.

At Ivan’s suggestion they had picketed the horses a half mile south of their objective in a small sheltered ravine. With the air of a man who was an unquestioned authority on the subject, he explained that horses were easily spooked by Norscan’s and their strange magics. Camilla couldn't help but sympathise with the beasts on that point.

With a groan she heaved herself the last few feet onto the top of the bluff, feeling the cold cut into her as she lost the shielding that the rock had provided from the insidious wind. It was already darkening though not long after noon, the northern days were short at this time of year, but the vista of Windbitters bay was nonetheless impressive. 

The two arms of the by rose into steep rocky bluffs that jutted out into the sea forming a natural harbor. The gray choppy waters still roiled in uneasy white caps, but without the titanic violence of the ocean beyond. The bluffs were topped with unhealthy looking bushes and low stunted trees which clutched at the rock with grim determination. A rind of ice clutchd at the rocks in the bay but these grew less frequent as one came to the center where a long beach of gray gravel and broken shale spread like a stain. It as a long way from the sandy beaches she knew from costal Tilea. As yet the bay was empty, no forrest of masts or hell-sworn reavers had arisen. It as too early to expect it, it might take days for the Norscan’s to learn that the Duke had taken his force to Kronstat and sail to this forlorn landing spot. 

Instinctively Camilla cast an eye eastward towards the Town, she didn’t know what she expectd to see, it was over a days march from here, but as it happend the darkness and poor weather obscured anything more than a mile or so distant. SHe clapped Ivan on the shoulder and began securing a rope to a large boulder.

“Set two men to watch, we will camp in the ravine below, no fires but at least we will be out of the wind.”