Saturn had fought draugr before, in fact the massive behemoth of a Demon had plowed through what felt like an armies worth in his efforts to halt the wolfenstein clan’s leader Lady wolfenstein in the reaches of iceberg in one of the few frosty plains they had. But now when he had received word that not only their numbers had increased but there was a King among them that was leading those Draugr? He knew Lumikki’s love for this land and when hearing that she had made high jarl… Well he knew that the relations with Iceberg had been strained with the magic council but unwilling to let his Sister’s country be afflicted by this curse he’d set up some rules for the rune knights if they wanted to participate. That they would be doing this ‘off the record’ and that they would have no support from the magic council if they were to do so.

It was well received in some parts; others were wondering why they’d even offer help. He didn’t care; his role to this world was protector regardless of the country and if his sister needed help he was damn well going to do it. The Golden furred behemoth had decided that it was best to perhaps arrive in disguise as a golden haired man with long flowing locks, a white robe sitting over a black robe. His rune knight badge was no where to be seen and his equipment lay in the void for the meantime.

He had bade that echo remain outside of the city with his white wyvern; his means of travel. The draconic powerhouse was strong enough to where they could level a small town without too much of a fuss but the mindrache weren’t well known for their power. So a Demi god of Demi-gods being present in the city without permission would be… Frightening. When arriving he had been told if he was here for the war efforts that he must go and see the blacksmiths. The ‘man’ was polite enough to share that he was here for that exact thing. So he’d make his way down through the streets; looking at the city map he was able to buy from a venerable merchant. Taking in it’s information with a keen eye. Anything that he took in would be remembered in the future without fail.

His golden eyes remained half lidded and his smile sat without a worry on his face. He knew the way now to where he must go; maybe the rune knight was given the wrong sort of map but he figured that the dwarves wanted outsiders out of their city as fast as possible and their helpfulness was extending to just hurrying them along. Some dwarves were polite and when he asked for directions they’d stare at him for a moment before speaking. The faired hair man was almost elvish in his beauty but the lack of pointy ears meant he was human. People they typically didn’t have a problem with unless they were made a problem.

Men hewed from rock and stone didn’t get along with beings that lived among the trees and could see the sun kissed sky on the regular. He understood that their dislike for one another stemmed from their differences but you’d figure that was the same for the humans. He had to wonder what they felt about demons, what they felt about his sister. Did they care? Did they know?

He hadn’t a clue but he was seen again when he got turned about, taking wrong paths often led to finding new friends or allies but here it was drawing ire of some of the dwarves who just wanted him to piss off already. THough at least one helpful shopkeep would direct him to the right street. Dwarvish was akin to icebergian but he wasn’t the best at understanding either too well.

”Maybe I should have practiced my translator spell before leaving tsk…”

The man would rest a hand on his hip, map half folded and he'd look up from it. Seeing that he had gone in the right direction and added a little 'tick' on the map with a quill. He was making good progress and probably had a few 'blocks' before he'd arrive at the forge if all things went well.

It was an unconventional migration, even in her ignorance of what the Earthland people had to offer. A collective gathering, a melding of minds that seemed to be in unison in their departure, as hard to grasp as she struggled to figure. As the days became shorter and the nights longer, the chill of the changing season was becoming all the more evident, made no more obvious than by the brittle cold that began to further linger. She didn’t much mind the change, if anything even seemed to welcome it – it was different after all, than that of the comfortable warmth that seemed to persist throughout the near century in the company of her mother’s brood. The people seemed to feel all the much more differently, however. Even a shadow amongst the crowds, the complaints were heard, often times echoed even amongst parties that had no relation to another. “Too cold, I hate the winter, should go somewhere warmer, so much for the liveliness of things,” the frustrations seemed to have no lacking in option, no shortage for which one may have critiqued the colder reality.

Which made it all the more difficult for the Nerach Vampire to wrap her head around the reasoning and rationale for those very same people to venture to a land that was all the more cold.

Even within the name, Iceberg, seemed to be as indicative of the sort of place it would be.

However, the complaints seemed to be gone. Was it simply accepted that the frigid nature of this land was tolerable yet the softer shift where one calls home to be unreasonable? It were inherently-flawed reasonings like this that as much made her struggle to fully understand society, leaving her thinking that perhaps trying to understand them was a foolhardy effort.

That trepidation did not stop her from joining in the mass migration, having seen no reason to remain within the greater continental Fiore if the reception expected were to be no different than what it was now; indifference mixed with disdain and broad contempt, now with a dash of irritation to the cold furthered with it. She weren’t entirely sure what to much expect within Iceberg as opposed to Fiore; it wasn’t likely that the more broad sentiment would change at all, though there perhaps at the minimum would be less complaints echoed towards the cold.

Iceberg lent her little favors though in all other facets of life, as foolhardy as Isobele may have wished it be the case. Where their expedition had led them, it was nothing short of a blinded fellow wandering aimlessly in an unknown land, everything making little sense to Isobele. Worst even, she had never anticipated that this place, this nation of Iceberg, would have come with it such a strange and undiscernible sense of language. She had heard the word, the title of the city that they had arrived within, by a pair of passersby that had arrived in the same batch as her, their understanding of the land being far more enlightened than what she could have hoped to have been of this place. In sad truth, to actually end up in a place like this was as much her first point of proof of any sort of society beyond that of the nation of Fiore, save for past echoing of nations that she had only heard of like that of Minstrel.

But a nation not visited was a nation that did not exist, as far as the young Nerach Vampire was concerned of.

Iceberg she could no longer say the same towards. The cold wind cut against her skin, seemingly unaffecting her whilst others seemed to halt their movements altogether or otherwise shiver beneath the layers of clothing adorned around them. Was it wrong of her to appear unaffected? Could the others draw the same sort of suspicion towards her like so many of Fiore had up to that point?

Fearing the heightened leeriness that may have lingered around her proving to be little more than a wasteful endeavor, she resigned to venture further with much of the arriving crowd. Her path would inevitably depart from the rest, their thoughts of her and hers of them being the last remnants of one another, unlikely to be revisited again in the future. Some more minutes of walking past, her ears attentive to the boisterous discussions of the more-aware talking aloud. From them she had a very loose idea of all that was going on, hardly enough to talk or understand confidently as to the current plight. Some war or another, a tale that was as old as time.

But was war really something that would inspire the people to venture further into the unyielding cold? Warmth though bloodshed?

Maybe humans were easier to understand than she gave credit for.

Consumed by her own musings, she found herself wandering, not driven by direction but simply by the nature of the act of moving. Her mind unfocused, her eyes more curious of the city around her, intrigued by the architecture of the foreign city whose name she could never hope to say with any sort of confidence. Sounds became more mingled, conversation upon conversation piling up whilst the sounds of the life around them turned into a singular cacophony. Standing out amongst them were the words of the local populace, the language so much alien that even the most simple utterance of a few words enough for Isobele to dismiss them, the hope of understanding them an impossible task.

She furthered along an unknown path, still aimlessly focused in any and all directions. There was no real interest that she held in the plight that seemingly so many people from Fiore had come because of, so instead the broader city was much more to her curiosity. A push came to her side, nearly throwing her off her footing as she turned around, only to see a pair of youths, younger compared to most of the humans she could see in any given direction, scurry off, so consumed in their game that they had likely not even seen Isobele in their path.

Ironic perhaps that in her focus on the youths whom had effectively disappeared amongst the crowd that she did not notice the larger figure before her, realizing their presence only after she had walked directly before them. It was an unmovable object meeting a light breeze, the Nerach Vampire falling to the ground as she looked up, realizing the scope of the figure that seemingly towered over her, their focus not even towards that of her but instead the massive sheet of paper that they held within both hands. “Sorry, I wasn’t-“ her apology began, but stopping midway as she realized the futility of it, the likelihood that all locals wouldn’t have any understanding of her spoken language. “Pfft, there any point in apologizing? Not as though you can even much understand me, can you?”