Otto cried out in agony as he was lifted up within the maw of a great snow beast. A bear-like monster with spikes and boils along its back, and eyes with a malign intelligence. Konrad and Olaf ran to Otto's aid, as did Cyrdic. Though they likely knew that the fellow was beyond saving. 

"Iv ahnly ve 'ad horses!" Boris the Hussar cried, and Ivan clapped the man on the back as the two of them, along with Luka charged into the fray with their sabers held high, attacking from the flank as the three Imperials crashed into the beasts and their meal. Konrad buried two feet of steel into the bear that held Otto, while Olaf cut into the face of another beast that had turned to meet them. 

Yantz begrudgingly stayed near the Witch, sword out, even as two of the six beasts loped towards them with a feral hunger that seemed almost palpable. Dietrichia uttered a word of power from the winds of Azyr, and forked lighting exploded from her fingertips to engulf the two beasts, felling one and causing the other to stumble. 

Cyrdic's runic sword was gripped within the teeth of one of the beasts, green saliva dribbling from its maw as it tried to yank the sword out of his hands. Cyrdic was nearly overwhelmed by the stench of the things breath. Instead of giving up the sword, Cyrdic knelt down and produced a dagger Camilla had gotten him as a gift, and sjabbed hard into the bear's eye. It roared and let go of the sword, falling into the snow and vainly trying to tear out the six inches of steel within its skull. 

Suddenly Cyrdic's world was full of pain, and he couldn't even take a breather before a swipe cut into his back and sent him tumbling. It was only by instinct that he hit the hard ground with a roll, skidding into snow and finding himself on his back. The multicolored sky was replaced by sheer white as one of the bears leaped at him to tear out his throat. But Cyrdic had his wits about him and stabbed his Ulrican sword upwards, impaling the beast on the glowing metal and causing it to whine pitifully. Using his powerful legs and the bear's momentum, he kicked the corpse end over end past him into the snow bank. 

Once he collected himself, he saw the others had finished off the rest of the beasts. Yantz had taken out the injured, electrocuted monstrosity that had survived the Witches attacks. Even as Cyrdic found his feet, Ivan was slitting the throat of the last crippled one, and Skaldi sat atop the back of a remarkably unmutated bear with his Axe buried in its skull. "The meat might be a bit rough, but give me an hour and we can probably eat this one, aye?" he said. 

Cyrdic nearly fell over again. 

Hours later, after they had buried Otto, and bandaged Boris as best they could, Dietrichia had scried the corpse and deemed it untainted, and they had eaten a quick meal of bear stew. The party moved forward with a will, though Cyrdic knew if he did not keep them going with encouraging words and a show of strength himself, they would lose heart of their mission. It also occurred to him that though he would brave any obstacle to see Camilla safe, these others were not her lovers or even friends, bar Ivan and Skaldi. And yet they had sacrificed so much. And yet, though they were perhaps too scarred of looking fearful to turn back, they were traveling into hell. 

The next landmark seemed to fade from out of the bleak winds; a mountain range rolled across the landscape. Such was not known to any map of the Empire or to Kislev. "We must be near the Hold of Kraka Ornsmotek," Skaldi said. "The northernmost hold of my northern Kin. I can not find their hold, but we must ware. For Giants and Trolls of Chaos inhabit the mountains to its west, if that be where we are." 

And so the group had to traverse around, being guided by Dietrichia and Skaldi's knowledge of rock formations to find passes suitable for the full group to move through. Labyrinths of razor sharp rocks, and stones carved into the likenesses of skulls and spines greeted them as they trudged along silently, hoping that they met none of the foul creatures that lurked within the caverns of the deep. They had nearly made it through the pass they had taken when a great horn had sounded from within the northern wastes. Instinctively, all of the group crouched and hid behind the crags they found themselves in, huddling down. "Quiet," Cyrdic whispered, and he sniffed the howling wind, picking up scents that made him both fearful and angry. 

Out of the fog, shapes appeared. Hulking, but man sized and armed with axes and sword. A huge warrior at the head of the column strode with a purpose, his dark blade of chaos slaked across the Ice. Upon his back were trophy skulls of various races, creatures slain across the world. His shoulders were covered in slabs of metal, and his great red beard seemed to drip with blood. Behind his soldiers, lumbering beasts marched along with them. Shaggy haired, tusked monstrosities with armored plating and strange eyes that glowed an unnatural blue. 

It was not a vast army, but it was a sizeable force. Cyrdic thanked Ulric and Sigmar they were neither going north or south, but further east. He hoped they continued that way.

"Wulfrik," Dietrichia hissed, her eyes suddenly glowing a great white. The entire group was taken aback as she shuddered and began utter the man's name. Yantz shook her, but she paid no heed to the man as she spoke, utterly stricken by prophecy. "Wulfrik the Wanderer heads southwards! The Everchosen gathers all to his banner!" Her cries grew loud and wild as she began to roar in an arcane tongue, and Ivan drew a knife as if to silence the witch by ending her life. Instead, Cyrdic tackled the wizard, cutting her off and knocking her into the stone floor of the crags. 

Moments slid by, and the drums beat as they normally did. Within minutes, the force had passed them. 

"Get off me." She said once her wits returned to her, and Cyrdic was surprised to see she actually blushed. He looked her in the eye, not caring if she was embarrassed. "Give away our position again, and your help is no longer required." he told her, and she scoffed at that, quickly resuming her neutral, ageless posture as she drew herself up. 

"Where to now?" Konrad asked, the man's mustache looked more white than black, the snow having clung to his upper lip greedily. Cyrdic was about to speak, when he smelled something. Something he didn't expect to smell. It was a musk he had scented back days ago, upon the Nordland shore. An unsettling smell of desire and sweat, and dark amusement. He knew it to be a man, but if it was the same man as he had scented then...then Camilla was close. Perhaps miles away at the most. But in this snow, even that seemed a world away. 

"Northwest." He said, and began to make his way down the crags. The others followed suit.
[@Penny]