Outfits:

Yuuki was not phased by the cold as he and his companions had already made proper arrangements for clothing and what not for them Miyuki and Yumi were in their human forms having already cast metamorphose earlier in the day "Why in the blood soaked hell are we up here in this winter hellscape?" Miyuki asked questioningly while giving Yuuki some side eye as they trudged through the snow only for a snowball to smack into the back of Miyuki's head "YUMI!!!" Miyuki growled turning back to look at her as she acted innocent like she had nothing to do with it "What did I do now?" Yumi questioned in a innocent manner like she had no idea what was going on this angered Miyuki who pounced on Yumi knocking the other elf to the ground causing Yuuki to shake his head "As much as I would not normally mind seeing two beautiful women wrestle, but it's a tad cold out here for that." He said playfully as he easily lifted Miyuki up off Yumi "Put me down! I will leave her alone." Miyuki said with a pout as he set her down in the snow and turned about not seeing Yumi give her a mocking expression.

Yuuki was not sure how much farther they had to go but Yuuki was sure it would not be pleasant with two bickering companions, that was until he felt a snowball hit the back of his head. Yuuki slowly turned around to find both Miyuki and Yumi acting like they have no idea what happened as he bent over forming up two snowballs as Miyuki and Yumi took off running Yuuki threw one then another both smacking into the back of both of their heads causing them both to face plant into the snow "Now if you're done goofing off can we get going before we freeze to death out here." Yuuki said with a laugh as he watched the two elves picked themselves up off the ground "Yes." they both grumbled with embarrassed looks on their faces.

Yuuki and his cohorts made their way into the town that Luminikki had mentioned was the starting point for her campaign into Iceberg, Although he had no allegiance to Sleeping Calamity anymore he had still answered the call of someone he considered a dear friend and would do whatever he possibly could to help her achieve her dream or goal. Yuuki and his companions made their way over to the first tavern he spotted as he needed a drink to ward off the cold that had started to seep through his gear. Yuuki and his two companions entered the tavern and made their way over the way to the bar before taking a seat and ordering some warm ale, a drink Yuuki was not accustomed to but alcohol was alcohol at the end of the day. The bartender did return quickly with three pints of warm ale and placed them in front of each one of them before moving off to handle other patrons. Miyuki took a huge swig of her drink "Ahhhhh, that hit the spot." She said with a satisfied sigh as Yuuki also drank deeply of the warm and rich liquid feeling it warm him from with in as the sweet yet rich liquid slid down his throat "I would agree." Yuuki said as he looked around the tavern noticing a man with pink hair which stood out for the area "Well this is for sure quite the departure from sake." Yumi chimed in as she drank the thick but rich and sweet fluid.

Post Word Count:602

Targa sat quietly on the deck of the ship as her fingers traced the silver rose that adorned the top of her staff cane. The biting icy spray of the seas assaulted her cheeks as the vessel pressed forward, cutting through waves on its way to Fjallgard. She was lucky that she didn't have the normal physiology of a human anymore and was more able to handle extreme cold than before. She was in no way immune to the cold, but she didn't have to worry like a normal person. Targa had also stocked her staffs pocket dimension with enough blood to last her three months so she would have no need to worry about feeding and always having a supply. She was lucky to have her new staff to elevate these concerns.

Beside her, Monty huddled next to her for warmth. His usual moogle curiosity and playfulness subdued in the cold. “Kupo, Why do you want to take the Ansuz rune, Targa?. Seems like you would do better having the strength or endurance with your abilities. So you can fight and blast! Or money, more money is always nice to buy more staves with!” Targa thought about it. He wasn't wrong, but she valued wisdom and intelligence more than anything else. “Strength is all well and good, but a sharp mind and clear communication? Far more useful when dealing with the undead. Wisdom isn’t just about knowing things, it’s about knowing how to use what you do know.”

Monty nodded, but his expression remained confused. “Kupo! Fair point. But you’re headed to one of your homelands, yeah? Iceberg. That’s bound to stir something up.” Targa leaned back, her gaze drifting toward the snowy peaks emerging on the horizon. “I wonder about that,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “It’s been years since I left. Most of them won’t recognize me. And if they do… well, they’ll be meeting someone quite different. The girl they knew isn’t coming back. Even so I was always in my sisters shadow. They knew the frail me, the me being eaten alive by the crash magic now sealed in me. My body, my mind are now healthier than they were. Plus I'm now a vampire.”

Monty tilted his head, studying her carefully. “Different how? Because of the magic or the whole… vampire thing?” “As I just said my cute partner, Both, I suppose. There is also the fact I have a new magic and I'm able to cast that magic thans to The Hedgewitch’s Gardening Cane. This little beauty has made my magic more versatile than ever. But it’s not just the power. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I’ve become someone who doesn’t need their approval anymore. Still… I wonder if anyone will care to remember.”

Monty grinned as his pom pom glowed slightly. “They’ll remember, all right. But let’s be real, they’ll be more interested in your fancy cane than your past I bet. I know I was when I saw it! Speaking of which, is it true you’ve got a rake in there?” He gestured toward the silver bud at the base of the staff. Targa laughed and almost spit out her blood tea. “Yes yes yes, there’s a rake. A few, actually. More than that. There are hoes, shoves, shears, and many other gardening tools. They seem to always be in there no matter what I do. It must be a property of the staff itself. I guess that's why they call it
the Hedgewitch's Gardening Cane. Would you care to try out some gardening later in the ice and snow?” He held up his tiny moogle paws in mock surrender. “I think I’ll pass. But seriously, Targa, you’ve got this. And who knows? Maybe you’ll run into someone who knew you before all this magic business. Could be a chance to show them what you’ve become.” She smiled at that, the corners of her lips curling up showing her sharp vampire fangs a little. “Perhaps. We’ll see.”

The conversation lulled as the ship neared the icy docks of Fjallgard. Targa tightened her grip on her staff, the blooming silver rose glinting in the pale sunlight. She was ready. She was ready to face her homeland, to aid the dwarves, and to prove that her past was nothing compared to the woman she had become. As the ship docked, Targa descended the gangplank with Monty flying just above her shoulder. The port of Fjallgard was bustling with wartime prep. Targa adjusted her Monopoly outfit, made sure her tie was straight and went forward, staff cane in hand. Her vampiric eyes scanned the people nearby and she smelled the faint scent of blood in the air from cracked hands, noting the hardy faces of the dwarves who called this place home. Each bore the hallmarks of their kind: bushy beards, stout frames, and exquisite weapons and armors. She'd make note that if she had enough she'd by a dwarven made staff while here that she could use with her magic.

“Well, kupo, where to first?” Monty asked. “The hall, of course. I need to present myself to the Hrútr clan and get a proper drink. It would be rude not to start there.” The two made their way through the snowy streets, the sound of their boots crunching against the frosted ground. The main hall of the Hrútr clan loomed ahead, a longhouse constructed from thick timbers, its roof covered in overlapping shingles dusted with snow. The entrance was flanked by intricately carved posts depicting fierce warriors and mighty beasts, their features sharp despite years of frost and wind.

Inside the hall she'd take a seat at a empty table and order a drink. “A tankard of your best mead,” Targa said with a polite smile, placing a coin on the counter. The woman nodded, filling a tankard with a frothy golden liquid and sliding it toward her. Targa took the drink and, with a discreet flick of her wrist, poured a small vial of blood from her pocket dimension into the mead. She stirred it carefully with a wooden spoon, then took a sip. She almost choked. The dwarven mead was too strong. So much so it completely covered the taste of the blood and caused what little organs she had to recoil in disgust.

WC: 1053
TWC: 1053