Cyrdic nearly ran his horse into the ground, his Sword and the Handgun he'd found bouncing along his hip and back. The beast he rode had been faced with warhounds and feet upon feet of snow, and Cyrdic felt guilty that he had to use up the last of its energy to make it to the shoreline where the ocean fed into the Nordland river systems. His companions were right behind him, though Ivan was a bit further behind. Skaldi had sworn he could ride a horse but fell off his steed after two miles, and Ivan had to wheel around and pick him up. 

The ground soon lost snow, turning into a harsh and uneven ground filled with rocks as they left the treeline and descended down into the ford. Cyrdic and the others were taken aback at all of the burnt and burning ships, and the lack of Norscans around. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but he knew one thing due to all of this mayhem. Camilla had been here. No one else could have caused such destruction by themselves. 

Cyrdic laughed at the thought, eyes welling up with moisture. It meant she was kept alive after she was captured, though he saw no sign of her here. "Fan out and search!" He yelled to those catching up to him. They didn't have time to properly reply before he had dismounted and smacked the rump of his horse, sending it galloping away. He had no intention of going back, and the sun would be setting in a few hours. He leaped down the small rise and made it to the lower ground, where the burning hulks of Norscan craft billowed smoke. 

Cyrdic cried out for Camilla over and over, hoping to hear a groan or a whisper from somewhere within the ruins of the invasion fleet. The men had found a few intact ships, but there was nothing else. They had simply found no sign of Camilla, which means she had been captured or... 

"Manling!" Skaldi called from a few burnt husks over, and with a force of will Cyrdic moved over to the Dwarf only to find him standing on an empty patch of moist sand. The Dwarf pointed at it. "Look here. D'ye see?" He asked, pointing at the ground. Cyrdic shook his head, but he'd learned how cautious and perfectionist Dwarfs were. "No, what?" 

"A ship lay here, and it pulled out not hours ago. They had prisoners. You can tell by the grooves of the sand to the left where they were dragged." The Dwarf explained. Cyrdic looked closer, and soon he found he could see what the Dwarf was speaking about. Yet even now, he didn't exactly want to hope. It was not until Sigmar had bestowed a blessing upon them with the sound of a splash from the water. Cyrdic and Skaldi whipped towards the sea and drew their weapons, wondering if a sea beast had wandered too close to shore. But after a moment, there was another splash, and a very human head appeared in the water. 

"What in Sigmar's name?" Cyrdic breathed, and waded out into the shallows to help the man ashore, for he was no Norscan. He had the look of a Nordlander, albeit bedraggled and half worked to exhaustion. Cyrdic had to haul him to shore to keep the man from drowning in knee deep water. 

The others had heard the commotion and made their way over, trodding across corpses and kindling. They found Cyrdic kneeling over a soaking, prone solderly looking man who gripped Cyrdic's sleeve weakly. Cyrdic shook the man as gently as he could. "What did you say? Stay awake, man!" Cyrdic said, and ordered the Greatswords to get a fire going to keep him alive. 

Unfortunately, the man had fallen into unconsciousness. They moved him near the fire and wrapped him in a dry cloak. It would be the two longest hours of Cyrdic's life, waiting for him to awaken. He didn't even know if the soldier would live. The Seas of Claws was a frozen wasteland of water, and was dangerous even without the beasts that lurked beneath. 

The group had taken the opportunity to eat and melt snow for water as they waited, and take a small breather. Ivan lamented they had no Vodka, and the other two Kislevites agreed. Skaldi had offered to continue counting Gold, but a look from Cyrdic told him that now was not the time. The Greatswords slumped and rested, having cut through Norscans and mutants all day, their swords difficult to wield even for the strongest of men. Cyrdic would know. 

The man coughed when he awoke, drawing everyone's attention. Cyrdic set his water down and walked over, fear and trepidation rising in his chest. "Easy, soldier. How are you feeling?" He asked. 

"Better...Ulric thanks you." He said. 

"You said you had a message. Tell me what you meant." The scarred Ostlander said, looking at the Nordland man intently. After a few moments, he spoke. "The Norscans...left hours ago. They look to ransom the Count's daughter." Cyrdic echoed the statement, confused. 
"The Count has no daughter," Konrad the Greatsword said. "He's delirious." 

"What did she look like, the daughter?" Cyrdic pressed. "Dark hair? Beautiful?" 

"Aye sir," the survivor said. "Most beautiful lass I've ever seen. Like out of the stories. She burned the ships too..." 

Skaldi laughed, and poked Ivan's stomach with his elbow. "Beautiful he says. Men have the weirdest tastes. The lass is too tall, and her hair's all wrong. She doesn't have the meat of a Dwarfish beauty." 

Cyrdic felt a chord strike within him from the news, and he nodded his thanks to the man. He turned to the others, every inch the commander he was not hours before. "Olaf, I need you, Otto, and Konrad to find oars. Ivan, you and the boys find foodstruffs from the wreckage and melt more snow. They're less than a day ahead of us and if we hurry, we'll catch them tomorrow. Skaldi, find the most intact ship you can. We leave as soon as we're ready. Go!" 

The Norscans were better seaman than any, but they didn't know they were being followed. They wouldn't be hurrying. But Cyrdic would...
[@Penny]