The snow had ceased, but the rain had set in. Not entirely freezing rain. Likely from clouds having drifted in from the south. But it did little to warm the place. As soon as the droplets had hit the earth, they began to cool rapidly and much of the ground was cracked from thinned ice. It was a truly miserable evening, and Cyrdic pulled his cloak closer and kept his hood above his head, the steam from his lips puffing out of his veiled face as he waited for Camilla, who was just now coming closer. 

The Dwarfs, Thor and Gunir, wore their regular garb. Dwarfs always seemed slightly miserable, at least when they weren't drinking or counting coins, or slaying things they wanted dead. But they were made of sterner stuff than men and could weather cold and wet better than anyone. They flexed their meaty hands and kept to themselves other than the occasional khazalid muttering, though to each other, their gods, or to themselves, Cyrdic didn't know. 

Camilla made it to the tree line, wearing a furred coat that somehow fit her form whilst simultaneously obscuring most of it in a warm bulk. She had two hand-axes that bounced against her hips as she walked, bringing a bundle of provisions, covered torches, and the piece of wood in question they were bound to return. Cyrdic had a few torches in his pack as well, but they would be next to useless if the rain did not stop. Instead of fretting, they had changed tactics. 

Cyrdic kept his broadsword in their room, and had taken a large, thick hafted battleaxe they had found being held by a piece of armor in one of the ruined rooms of the manor. They had multiple pistols and gas lanterns to light and keep lighted, and coils of rope to keep connected to one another if one split from the group in the murk. The trees that loomed above them looked inanimate, but their limbs were still gangly and gave the impression of grasping and reaching for their throats. 

"Right, I'm ready to put some trees to the axe." Gunir said, hopping off the stump and smiling wickedly. 

Camilla placed a finger to her lips, but Cyrdic spoke. "Might want to keep that to yourself unless we need that sort of action." He said. "We want this to stop, remember? That's how we get paid." 

Ordinarily they would get continually paid defending the Graf, but it was a losing prospect and soon he would run out of money. But if they halted the threat here, they would get a bonus once he reached his other holdings. Once Camilla stepped past Cyrdic and gave him a wink, the muscled Ostlander shoved off the dead tree he leaned against and followed her, the Dwarfs moving with him into the dark of the forest.