"That is a excellent question, why Vallaki in particular? Any special reason?"

Ismark runs his hands through his blonde hair, thinks, and responds, "Vallaki stands at the heart of the valley, beyond the view of Castle Ravenloft, and is beyond the reach of Strahd. I know that moving Ireena is a gamble, but I've heard tell tale that Vallaki is well defended. There's not much else we can do." Looking around with open arms, continuing dryly, "We certainly aren't safe here, under the dark castle's presence."

"Beyond the reach of Strahd..." Rumble echoes.

"Well I guess we should hurry on then..." Allen finishes his breakfast ready to move.

The assembled lot prepare themselves for travel, prepping the two horsed wagon, and setting out while the morning is still young. As the wagon exits the mansion property, a finely dressed man flags down the cart just outside the gate. Doffing his suede tophat, he retrieves from within a pure-white envelope. "Lord Lesser and Lady Kolyana, I have word from my master to express his dearest concern for your loss." Ismark leans down from the cart, retrieves the letter, nods, and carries on solemnly after a brief discussion. As time passes, Ismark informs he knows of a good place to stop this evening.

Allen, while the group exits the town, the rythmic wheels clattering over cobblestone, you recall a bit more of last night's dream. Within the cold and bleak darkness, Allen stands alone at a crossroads. On a post between the forked path, a raven beckons with an outstretched wing towards the right; cawing loudly as he passes over the sounds of waxing tension over hempen rope. Surroundings blur, and Allen's head burns intensely. Within a large tent, a nondescript figure sits across from him at a table as his eyes struggle to focus.

An older female voice speaks to him in a soothing tone, reassuringly. "The distance between us renders my Sight blurred and obscured, and I cannot talk much longer. Go to where the mists do not cloud the eyes."

Ireena gasps, interrupting your thoughts, after reading the letter. A dark crimson ink is sprawled upon the pages. Stunned, she passes the letter to Ismark who passes it round.

Dearest Ireena,

It is with the deepest grief that I learn of the death of your kind and noble Father; and, especially, that it is affecting your young heart beyond all sensation. In this sad world of ours, sorrow eventually comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with the bitterest agony, because it so often takes them unaware. Your elders, no doubt, have learned to ever expect it.

I am anxious to afford some alleviation of your present distress. Perfect relief is not possible, except with time. You surely realize now that you will never smile again, is not this so? And yet it is a mistake. You are sure to be happy again. To know this, which is certainly true, will make you some less miserable now. I have had experience enough to know what I say; and you need only believe it to feel your heart warm once again. The memory of your dear Father, instead of an agony, will yet be a sad sweet feeling in your heart, of a purer and holier sort than you have ever known before.

Please present my kind regards to your afflicted brother.

Your lord, master, and love,

Strahd von Zarovich

"He's very full of himself isn't he.." Passing the letter off to the others "Ismark is there a crossroad ahead?"

"He's persistent, isn't he? Tell me more about Strahd. Why do you avoid him? Why not entertain his notions for a while?"

Crossing over a small creek as clear as a blue winter sky, the wagon's reflection undisturbed. Ismark takes a second to think before responding, "Yes, sir Allen. There will be a ways out. Roughly a couple hours up ahead. Did you come this way?"

Ireena has taken out a set of crocheting needles and has begun working quietly. Turning back towards to the cart, she says, "If a powerful evil entity terrorized your family and sought you for an unknown reason, would you willingly submit?"

"No... but I saw it in a dream. I think we should keep to the right or at least stop once we get to the crossroads so I can try to commune with the Raven Queen..."

Rumble says nothing, his curiosity satisfied. He instead keeps an eye on the landscape surrounding the path they were travelling on. (PP of 14)

Rumble, growing disinterested, you're lying draped over the edge of the cart when a glimmer catches the off-putting sunlight. Feline curiosity peaked, a quick leap and bound gets to the water's edge. Sitting lens up is an old and battered spyglass. Catching back up and onto the cart, you flick off your paws with your prize.

Ismark turns back and answers, "We can certainly stop for a break there. Probably good to give the horses a quick rest as well."

[OOC: ooooo, that's cool]

Rumble looks over his new find before bagging it, thinking it may come in handy later for any snooping he'll be doing.

The wagon continues onward down the path for about two hours until coming to a crossroads. Ismark pulls the cart to a stop and hops out to care for the horses. An old wooden gallows creaks in a chill wind that blows down from the high ground to the west. A frayed length of rope dances from its beam. 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.

The northwest fork slants down and disappears into the trees, while the southwest fork clings to an upward slope. Across from the gallows, a low wall, crumbling in places, partially encloses a small plot of graves shrouded in fog.

Allen, the fork is identical to your dream, but the gallows are unfamiliar. A wind lazily pushes the frayed rope to and fro.

"This is it..." Allen will get off the cart and stretch his legs. Once he's done he will look around the area for anymore signs. 

Perception: 5

Investigation: 5

',... This is what? Whatchya looking for?" Rumble asks, help ing Allen's search.

"I've had a vision last night and this crossroad was in it... Hopefully I can find something to help us."

Perception: 21

Investigation: 16

Taking a good look and then replicating what you had dreamt, a sense of deja vu washes over you. The path Northwest was what the raven indicated with a foreboding gesture. Looking to the gallows on the roadside, they stand atop a rotting platform 5 feet high, with wooden stairs leading up to it.

"That way, towards the Tser Pool. That's where we should go next."

Allen, as you get back into the cart, the gallows draw your attention out of the corner of your eye. A creaking noise, coming from the frayed rope, catches your ear. Where there was nothing before now hangs a lifeless, gray body that's topped with a mess of pink hair. The breeze turns the hanged figure slowly, so that it can fix its dead eyes upon you. Staring your way is no other than Eira, the female wizard of which you're acquainted with. Turning attention away to alert the group and back again, there's just the oscillating rope. With that, the wagon moves out and towards the right path.

The road gradually disappears and is replaced by a twisted, muddy path through the trees. Deep ruts in the
earth are evidence of the comings and goings of wagons. The canopy of mist and branches suddenly gives way to black clouds boiling far above. There is a clearing here, next to a river that widens to form a small lake several hundred feet across. Five colorful round tents, each ten feet in diameter, are pitched outside a ring of four barrel-topped wagons. A much larger tent stands near the shore of the lake, its sagging form lit from within. Near this tent, eight unbridled horses drink from the river.

The mournful strains of an accordion clash with the singing of several brightly clad figures around a large bonfire. All told, there's twelve people around the fire. A footpath continues beyond this encampment, meandering north between the river and the forest's edge.

"A camp? Perhaps we can stay here for the day and let the horse rest. Do you know of this camp Ismark?"