The news shouted in their tavern was one of the first heard in the city of Praag. Cyrdic bolted up. "What?" before he felt the intense stabbing of his shoulder, and he nearly buckled. Sigmar, why did the wound bother him [i]after[/i] Camilla had tended to it? Outside, members of the cult of the White Wolf stalked past their window, and Kislevite guards moved to and fro as if being ordered by some collective intelligence. More than likely they had been given various tasks and were unsure of which they should first perform. Cyrdic had been there. 

Konrad entered the Tavern at that moment, a new cloak wrapped around his form. He looked more like an uncouth mercenary rather than a Greatsword of the Empire at this moment, his unshaven face and lack of a haircut in over a month, along with his sullen visage. "I take it you've heard?" he asked them. Ivan nodded. "Haf you been to da valls?" He asked.

"No, and I almost wish not to." he admitted, walking in and ordering a drink by a raise of his hand. The serving wench scurried off to grab his drink with a smile. If Cyrdic didn't know any better she seemed sweet on Konrad despite his unkempt state. "We make it out of hell and hell followed us. Sigmar I feel as if we are cursed." He said, taking the drink with a rare smile from the barmaid and taking a sip. Cyrdic snorted at his comment, and glanced at Camilla. He often felt the same way, it was almost humorous now. 

"Ve are safe in Praag," Ivan said. "More of an unfortunate zan anyfing. Unless da army is larger than any ve haf seen in a hundred years." 

"Only one way to find out." Cyrdic remarked, stoic. He gathered himself up and donned his own cloak. Camilla did so with him. They had eaten as much as they could the last day or so, but Camilla was still far too slim and Cyrdic was leaner than he'd been since age 17. Yantz seemed less than enthused going to the wall, and he simply stabbed a piece of ham with one of his knives and devoured it off the blade, before standing up. 

Konrad sighed, took one last swig of his drink and made it to his feet. He was no coward, Cyrdic knew. Almost any man would be tired after the journey they had undergone. "Where's Skaldi?" Cyrdic asked. The two men shrugged, but Camilla spoke up. "I think he might still be cooking. His shifts not over yet." Cyrdic wasn't going to bother him over this and they all headed out, the carved streets, normally bustling with citizens, were now filled with marching soldiers and the occasional onlooker, though at a glance many of the citizens were hanging out within the buildings and homes, and a few less reputable or uncaring men and woman still walked the streets. Cyrdic felt as if he was having a bad dream. Not from the news, but that coupled with the horrific architecture of Praag, moving toward what could be his doom gave him that impression. 

They made it to the innergate of the city, one one of the second walls that overlooked the first and found the stone steps leading to the top of the parapets. Cyrdic's legs protested as he made his way up the steps, still sore from his journey. As the group crested the wall, Cyrdic blinked when he saw Skaldi and Dietrichia already there. "Aren't you supposed to be cooking?" Yantz asked the Dwarf, stepping over to stand by the witch. Skaldi scoffed. "No one's hungry." the Dwarf replied gruffly. "Not since that lot showed up." And he gestured to the horde of enemies gathering on the vast plains of Kislev. 

The tail end of the winged lancers were heading through the outer gates of Praag into the safety of the fortress city, and the beastmen that attempted to chase them were riddled with arrows and shot down. Beyond them, an army of Norscans and beastmen had set up a hasty camp, and smoke rose from around the horizon, signalling the end to over a dozen settlements. "Ulric's wrath," Cyrdic breathed, frustration in his voice. 

The army could not storm the walls of Praag and live, but it was still a sizeable force. 20,000 strong if he had to guess, and among the Chaos worshipers were the hulking shapes of war mammoths, and huge minotaurs lumbered about, grumbling and roaring. It was fascinating in a disturbing way. Seeing an army of Chaos always was, and he could tell it had that effect on his companions, all save Skaldi who was simply disgusted. 

The fact that Praag could defend itself at the moment didn't relax Cyrdic. The army would not be stationed there if they did not have a plan, and if they received new warbands each day then soon they [i]could[/i] storm the walls. "Only Norscans would go on a winter campaign," Cyrdic said, drawing the gazes of Yantz, Konrad, Boris, and a few of the nobles there as well. "They'll be effected like all men, but something about them let's them hold out longer in the cold. Let's no hope daemons join their ranks." 
[@Penny]