And so it begins...

Watching the terrain unfold with ever-increasing horror at the predicament the group has found themselves in, Briar places her hand instinctually and firmly to her chest. The leaves inked across her shoulders seem to shrivel and crumble as her fear mounts, before blooming again as she takes steadying deep breaths. They wilt again as she lets out shaking, uneasy gasps and the cycle continues on as the wagons cross the threshold of the property gates. Dumbstruck and unsure, she sizes up the situation in her mind, feeling like the group has made an awful mistake and are in way over their heads. How can they get back out of here? The wolves certainly wouldn’t let them leave.

Gently smacking Ashtar on the cheek, she smiles as she teases, "Precious as you may be, and though I may not mind, I doubt you want to keep your head in my lap. Have some strength back and rise, lovely."

The smile fades from her face as she sees the change in the scenery beyond the carriage fabric. Unease fills her veins at the sight before her. The realization of the difficulty they could be facing is beginning to hit her as she prepares for what lies beyond the gates. Looking amongst her fellow adventurers and friends, she prepares to ask them who is ready to continue when she notices Briar's expression. While fear isn't a feeling Alyria experiences often, she doesn't begrudge the fairy for struggling with the emotion. With a comforting smile, she fluffs up her long, wavy hair in an invitation in case the girl can't hide in the fur she keeps glancing at. Once she sees Briar notice the gesture, she preceeds to redirect her eyes back to the caravan opening to see what does lie beyond the entrance to these new lands.

Couth takes the sight of the gates as rather welcoming compared to the options. He finds it hard to believe this NORMAL. This is by far a strange place. 'He is sure he isn't in Kansas anymore.'

He will unload himself from the wagon once inside and catch up with the others, "Wow. This place is unreal." He looks a touch tired from the last of the trip in.

Edit: So is the sight of a fairy (Briar) on top of Alyria

Never one to hesitate on an invitation, Briar leaps from Eye of the Storm’s side and clambers lightly up Alyria’s back. Lithe and weighing in at a mere 30 lbs soaking wet, the fairy perches on the paladin’s shoulders in an elevated piggyback style. Her wings flutter as she settles in to the lush tangle of thick hair and she sighs contentedly when her chin comes to rest on the top of Alyria’s head.

"Mmmm," she murmurs quietly, closing her eyes to block the view of the approaching sense of doom, appreciative and whispering an acknowledgment so low that only the lady may hear. "Thank you."

Eye of the Storm was not pleased. The wolves were unnatural, monstrous. But they would not attack the caravan. Why was that? More foulness on the part of their hosts?
"Unnatural is what this is. I have never heard of this place. To think it was a day's travel away?"
He looks ahead, his sharp nose picking up an ominous scent...
"I smell death on the air..."

Couth says to leopard Eye of the Storm, "That was a magical ride. Something we weren't told. Yes. This is all wrong but keep in mind the way back is the same we came most likely. And I too can smell that. This place is sinister."

He smiles and says to Alyria, "New meaning to 'Monkey on your back'."

Eye of the Storm and Couth both smell death. The The foul scent leads you to a human corpse half-buried in the underbrush about fifteen feet from the road. The young man appears to be a commoner. His muddy clothes are torn and raked with claw marks. Something has been feasting on the body. The man has obviously been dead for several days. He holds a crumpled envelope in one hand. The caravan doesn't stop for the body and keeps rolling by.

Oh. So, Couth with carefulness will travel over to the body and uplift the note it clutches and surprised no one else has. And see if he can read it.

The letter has a large "B" set into its wax seal. The parchment is worn and flimsy. It reads

"Hey guys. The soup is getting thicker here. Take a look at this." Couth presents the note to everyone.

With everyone back in the wagon, the caravan trudges on through the muddy path. On either side of the path, ancient trees stand like silent sentinels, cloaked in perpetual mist. Thick fog weaves through the gnarled branches, shrouding the woodland in an eerie gray haze that distorts sounds and blurs the boundaries between shadow and substance.

The path opens up into a large, treeless, foggy plain. The foggy plain stretches endlessly, a monochromatic expanse where the boundaries between earth and sky blur into a seamless, spectral canvas. Silence, besides the soft dinging of the wagon's bells, prevails, broken only by the occasional mournful call of unseen creatures or the muffled rustle of the fog as it caresses the ground. The air is cool and damp, the moisture clinging to everything it touches. In the sky, the group notices there is no soft glow from the early morning sun. Just an endless expanse of rolling gray clouds that subdued the hopeful touch of the sun's rays.

The wagon rolls on for another hour or so through the foggy plan when unexpectedly tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for the mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance.

Ashtar shot awake, in pain, but in worse embarrassment at having rested on a woman's lap other than Alaina's. "A-apologies." He stammered. "I don't know what came over me." He stood up, only to sway and had to catch himself from falling over. He collapsed back onto the seat and rested his head in his hands.

There was some commotion, but Ashtar waited until everyone settled down, before looking over the letter Couth discovered. The pit of dread inside him grew. Some creature of the night was stealing young women. Is that what befell you, fair Alaina? But no. She was a capable warrior. She wouldn't succumb so easily as this Ireena had, and yet, the thought lingered in his mind.

Ashtar shook his head, and handed the letter back. Perhaps they could still turn back, wait until morning if need be, but Ashtar thought it unlikely. His mind drifted back to Alaina. He stared at the back of Stanimir's head, though he saw nothing but his past.

Distracted from the journey by Briar suddenly climbing up her back, Alyria giggles and she whispers back to the little fairy, "Any time, you need not ask if you seek shelter."

Further amused, she can't help but smile at Ashtar's reaction. "You need not apologize either," she lets him know with a soft smile. "I know that you had no ill intentions, nor would I expect any to come from you." She didn't fault him for it either. She's seen the softness and adoration in his eyes when he writes. She knows what that look means; she can recall when she wore it herself. The longing of a loved one is too familiar an expression.

Feelings of guilt begin to creep in before her attention is rediverted to the letter being passed around. Knowing Briar is hiding, she reads the letter out loud for her and everyone else to hear. "It seems we are now in the heart of very dark lands. I feel that the fact this request was given if rather noble of the prince, but if many forms of evil intent are all sequestered in this area, I feel we will have a more difficult task ahead of us than previously hoped."

Priestly Couth adjust is chain shirt a bit, "Let us amuse ourselves and steal a moment or three to indulge and speak with this Kolyan Indirovich Burgomaster on the dire matters."

The caravan rolls through the desolate village. Few villagers aimlessly walk about the village; most make a wide escape from the wagons. The caravan wheels pass a building with a sign over the door that, creaking on its hinges, reads "Bildrath's Mercantile". A raven sits on the sigh and flies off as you pass. Another building has a gaping doorway, and a sign hangs precariously askew, proclaiming this to be the "Blood on the Vine Tavern" As the wagons roll past the main crossroads, the wailing cry becomes louder to the south. To the north, up a slanted path, you see an older lady pushing a cart of some sort.

After driving through the village, the wagons roll over arching grey stone bridges that span over a river as clear as a blue winter sky.
Moving onward, the caravan passes a low wall, crumbling in places, that partially encloses a small plot of graves shrouded in fog An old wooden gallow that creaks in a chill wind that blows down from the high ground to the west. The well-worn road splits here, and a signpost opposite the gallows points off in three directions: Barovia Village to the east, Tser Pool to the northwest, and Ravenloft/Vallaki to the southwest. A raven sit on top of the sigh post; it flies off as you pass. (Is that the same raven?) The northwest fork slants down and disappears into the trees, while the southwest fork clings to an upward slope.

The caravan takes the Northwest and starts quickly rolling down a very rough and curvy path...