Rumble broods quietly on the back of the cart.

He tries to keep an eye and an ear out, but the gentle swaying of the cart rocks him gently. Maybe he could close his eyes. Yeah, that would be okay. Just for a minute.

He curls up into half his size and rests his eyes. Ears still upright for any incoming sounds. He was trained to be a light sleeper. So he takes every chance he gets.

Little did he know that when he awoke, his party would be further cut down in size.

Graeme stops whistling abruptly as he realizes he’s forgotten the last part of the tune.  He takes the opportunity to survey the surroundings.

Perception: 14

Rumble, fortunately, there doesn't appear to be anything of note. The trees harbor shadows that resemble figures at a quick glance but are in reality simple tricks of the imagination. The wildlife seem to be less present in this area, aside from the black bird that was seen, others are scarce. Deciding best to rest your eyes, you swing back into the cart and find good purchase.

The Highlander, rather quiet of late, starts out with a low whistle that resonates with the mists. Increases in bass with a hymn accompaniment, the morose tune befitting of the dreary false-day. Taking over watch, Graeme, you pick up notes that aren't your own. Faintly at first, a clip clopping of hooves rhythmically heads from the other path. Coming through the mist from behind is a carriage, drawn by a single pitch black stallion. The carriage itself is of well make, owned likely by a noble. Oddly enough, however, there are no mounted men nor driver to be seen. 

Graeme, you see this manless carriage coming from behind at about 75ft away. 

“Oy!” Graeme says in an urgent whisper.

”There’s a carriage comin’ up from behind us an there’s na anyone driving!”

Rumble's ears prick.
Not being rushed, he stretches out, extending his claws and yawning widley exposing his toothy maw.

what's this all about?

Sitting on the back of the cart, he sees the other approaching. "I see it." he replies sternly, readying the dodge action as it draws nearer.

Graeme makes himself obvious as he steps out a little way from the group, placing his hands where he can get at his great sword quickly if needed.

”If anyone can make themselves invisible, now would be a good time. We could use an ace in the hole if things go pear shaped.”

Allen seating in the seat uses it as cover and ready a Ray of Frost for any dangerous foes.

Rumble thinks for a moment after hearing Graeme, then dives into the back of the wagon, burying himself underneath their belongings.

Stealth: 18

As the upcoming, mysterious, carriage comes in closer to about 15ft, the finer details become clear. There appears there was a driver, but all that's left is an ancient skeleton that's fallen to its side on the driver's bench. The carriage itself is of rather fine make, trimmed with deep blacks, purples, and a smidge of red accent. The lone horse comes to a halt, seemingly of it's own volition, just behind the party. Graeme takes a stand and calls out while Rumble disappears somewhere in the wagon. Allen exhales out a cold breath of air and readies a spell. 

The pitch black stallion whinnies, stamping its hooves, and the ornate carriage door opens with a click. 

Ooc: Alright, guys. Please welcome our newest member, YoFizz!

The door opens and immediately tossed to the ground is a coat and some books. The figure climbs out backwards from the carriage. You do not see their face. You see a figure wearing a cloak struggling to get down off the carriage. 

As they touch down to the ground they stretch and reach for more items off the carriage. They lean a long staff with crystal atop it against the carriage. They reach back in again and pull out a woven basket and sets it on the ground. You can see that both sides are bursting with pastries. The figure picks up their items shuts the door and knocks on it with their staff. 

“Thank you driver. Maybe on your off day you can try one of Rosie’s pastries! Goodbye!” You hear in an old woman’s voice. She turns around to finally face away from the carriage. You see an old woman. She pulls the hood down off her head. 

Her skin is almost as pale as her stark white hair. She stands about four and a half feet tall with a large hunchback. Her ears are slightly pointed and if you look closely enough at her you see the silver scales that are spattered along her hairline and the silver dragons talon that holds her staff. 

"Well that's embarrassing..." Allen will stop his chanting and speak out to the woman "What business do you have? Were you sent by Strahd?"

“I’m here to find my grand nephew. I don’t know anyone called Strahd. What a dreadful name. Are you a lycan? Or have you friends that are lycan?”

She waits for an answer. Assuming it’s no she steps forward using her staff for leverage as she walks. 

“My name is Agnes. I was sent here by a woman who said I could retrieve my great grand nephew for a favor. And I took a carriage ride and here I appeared. I’m not even sure where here is... where am I?”

"Woman? What woman?" Allen curious lowers his hands and steps of the wagon. "You are in a plane of dread a powerful vampire rules this place."

“Sorry, I do not know her name. She was a drow though. Good looking one too. Anyway, I’m looking for Eland. Do you know him?” Agnes reaches into her basket and pulls out a pastry.

“I’m starting to run low on these. But please take one. My wife, Rosie, is a fantastic pastry chef. You’ll love it. A powerful vampire... hmm. Well, what are you doing here? Is there some sort of mail service that goes between this realm and the one that contains Sword Coast? My wife will be worried... and we will have to stock up on more pastries. Can’t defeat evil on an empty tummy I always say.”

Agnes frowns a little and thinks not knowing she she can recreate a perfect image but she taps her staff and the Rose Quartz crystal atop of it glow bright white and silver she casts minor illusion to attempt to recreate the image of the drow she had met. 

“Do you know her?”

(Ooc: what does Allen look like? Is it obvious what race and class he is? EDIT: jk my phone doesn't display signatures, i see it now :P)

[OOC: Welcome btw YoFizz! Perhaps the DM can add you to our campaign, that way you can se our character sheets?]

Under some baggage, Rumble's ears fold back and his eyes go as wide as saucers seeing the magical illusion from the shadows. He makes no sound as he attempts to discern the nature/ skill set of this (elderly ?) woman. Insight: 21

(Ooc: Yeah, you got her pegged for being a half-elf. She looks like a little old granny. So you know she is pretty old to look like she does with elf blood in her. And idk if it would tip you off but the scales the talon are consistent for someone who has draconic blood in them — silver dragon draconic bloodline sorcerer.)

Ooc: I sent over the link in a pm, but it's also here. 

The group meets an unexpected character, evidently a new arrival as it would appear, who comes offering delicious looking pastries while I'm search for family. Agnes, in front of you stands a noble's wagon run by two brown horses. While nice, it pales in comparison to the one you arrived in, but it's also of good make. A burly human and blue tiefling have made themselves known and stand away from the wagon. Two humans peer from around the front, interested at the stranger. One a lovely looking female with raven black hair and rose-red lips; the other a fine, blonde gentleman.

The current group, the elderly half-elf does appear genuine and uncertain. The drow depicted through arcane means is unfamiliar, clad in a storm cloak that covers the lithe figure dressed in fine leather. It's of female gender with shoulder length silver hair, long and pointed ears, and piercing blue eyes that contrast her obsidian skin. Rather attractive, with a face and demeanor that means business.

I'll let everyone do their own intros, and we'll get to business as usual once again. 

Graeme gives a cautionary hand signal to Allen who seems quite taken with the elderly woman.

”Eh, Gran.” Graeme says with a bit of a smirk. “This is no place fur a wee lass as yourself....” Graeme pauses a bit as the phrase “...my wife Rosie...” finally hits home. Graeme continues, the first few words come slowly. “ You... could.. get hurt if ye fell in with wrong crowd.”

“I’m not sure if you’re being sweet or patronizing... Yet, I assure you I can handle myself. This isn’t my first adventure... it’s just been a while.”

Agnes stretches her back once more. 

“I spent many years helping Rosie run her bakery. So, some of my talents may have atrophied a bit but...”

Agnes casts message toward Graeme, “I still know a thing or two.”

”Now would you like a pastry or not? I only have a few left.”

"Well I can tell you that there are no Lycans with us. However if you wish to travel with us be prepared to fight." Allen doesn't accept the pastry instead turning to Ismark "I think we should continue."