Corrin pauses, looking into the woods and then back to Winter then back to the woods and finally back to the others. With a sigh, he continues on. 

Elya looks around at the mention of death, but then seems to resolve herself when Winter tells the group about the body, "The dead deserve respect. We should give the body a proper burial at the very least, and perhaps your nose will be wrong and we may save a life here."

Elya steps over to the body and tries to identify it to the best of her ability, briefly verifying whether or not it is human and, if it is, searching for any forms of identification. Investigation: 3

"This... it's definitely a body."

Winter gazes back to the group continuing forth, her lips thinning, and just as she was about to follow, Elya speaks, then treads deeper into the brush to identify the body. The rogue lets out an irritated sigh, then turns back and joins the water genasi in her investigation. Two was better than one after all.

Investigation: 3

"My nose is more useful than my investigation skills, it seems." She says through gritted teeth.

Song almost calls out to the rest of the group moving towards the body. "Well, I suppose Elya has a point. No sense leaving someone's remains so close to the road. If everyone else wants to come, there's strength in numbers." Saying that, he too walks towards the body and keeps an eye on it.

Investigation: 20

Looking back to see Winter and Elya headed into the woods, Corrin breaks into a smile and sprints after. 

“Hey, what’d you find? Whoa! Is that a dead body.? What happened?”

Corrin checks the body. 

Investigation: 3

A deep, throat grumbling begins emanating from the giant. This time, however, he doesn't stop moving along the road or even turns back to look. He just slows his pace, and puts a hand on a dagger. For his own sanity at this point, if nothing else. "Nobody listens." He mutters darkly under his breathe. "No point." Orilo shook his head in distaste. "None at all." 

Anborn walks up to Orilo and slaps a hand on his shoulder. "Hey there big guy. Looks like everyone is taking a look at that dead body over there. You want to join up? You've been keeping to yourself this entire time, saying no more than three words at a time, and running off without even giving us your bloody name."

The Dead Body

The foul scent leads you to a human corpse half-buried in the underbrush about fifteen feet south from the road. The young man appears to be a commoner. His muddy clothes are torn and raked with claw marks. Crows have been at the body, which is surrounded by the paw prints. The man has obviously been dead for several days.

Winter, Corrin, Elya: Yup! It's a body.

Song: He holds a crumpled envelope in one hand.

You hear a wolves howl in the distance. 

Orilo's grip tightens on the dagger, but the rest of him stills from contact. After a moment's pause, he starts... counting. 

"Ten... Nine... Eight..."

It was all common; and, each word was laced with a hint of aggression.

"Seven... Six... Five..."

His voice cracks a little, then smooths as he continued. It's almost as if the man was unused to speaking for long periods of time. 

"Four... Three... Two..."

Slowly but surely, the anger behind his voice bled out. One number left.

"One...."

Orilo sucks in a deep lungful of air, holds it for a moment, then lets out at a measured pace. Only after all that does he at least look towards Anborn. "Orilo "Stonethroat" Vaimei-Laga." He intones, and after a brief pause looks past over to where the others stepped off the road. "They waste time. Carrion will--" The rest dies in his throat at the sound of wolves howling in the distance. "Gods' blessed idiots -- ENOUGH! WE MOVE. NOW." He states, and if he sees anyone lingering behind at the body or start to complain, he shouts again. "NOW!" 

What a pleasant fellow. Hardly says two words, unless he's calling us idiots or shouting at us. "And who the **** do you think you are? You barely say two words in a row to us and yet you think you can bark orders. Calm your tits and join everyone else." And in open defiance of Orilo's order, Anborn walks towards the body and the rest of his companions. "I don't know what stick is lodged in his arse, but he better get it out. Quickly."

Song moves closer to the dead man, and notices a few things... the man has claw mark wounds and a note. In his curiosity, Song moves to take it. "Sorry," he says. But then, wolves howl in the distance! In a slight panic, he rips the note from the corpse's hands and runs back toward the road, passing Anborn. "If we don't want to end up as the wolves' next dinner, I propose we either run or stand and fight them. I think at least we shouldn't be near the woods!"

Corrin smiles at Anborn approaching after his outburst, but adds, “That said, might be best some of us establish a perimeter watch while others inspect the corpse.”

The halfling  then pulls a pair of daggers from his belt and turns to face the woods, searching for any signs of danger. 

Perception: 16

Song, this is the letter you find on the dead body.

Two wolves now howl in the distance. They sound closer.

Anborn pulls out his hammer and shield while looking for anything in the woods.

Perception: 6

Winter's face sours at the large man's barking, wanting to turn back to him and flip him off, but ultimately knew that he was correct and that they should get back on track. With a roll of her eyes (her irises returning to their usual state), she turns on her heel and trudges towards the path again, yet stops at the howling of wolves. Stupid flea biters, she thinks, her jaw clenching as she reaches for the hilt of her rapier. Winter continues forth until she is with the group again and they move on, her eyes and ears peeled once more.

Perception: 23

While getting back to the road, in curiosity, Song opens the note and reads it while keeping his ears alert to the wolves. ... And he becomes very confused and reads it a second time. "My friends... that letter that sent us here was signed by a Kolyan Indirovich, yes? Because I believe that was not the only thing he penned..." Song would show the letter to any compatriot near him.

Orilo cooly looks down to Anborn, but says nothing in return. Just stares at the man until he walks away. At which point he looks off to the woods, taking out his flail as he searched in what he already knew would be futility for the direction of the wolves. Again, he glanced back over to the others and gave them a real hard look. 

No discipline.
No sense of priorities.
No thought for consequence. 

He sighed and bowed his head. "What does it matter?"  He mutters to himself as he stood more resolute on the path. He would wait for the group to move, or the wolves to attack. Isolated as he was, he knew who would be the more tempting target. The thought brought a dark chuckle as he readied himself for either outcome.  But if the former, he keeps to the back this time. 

Anborn takes the letter and begins reading it. "Well, **** me. We have to deal with a bloody vampire. Ha." He chuckles at the unintentional pun of bloody vampire. "But at least we can have all of the treasure in Barovia if we do it successfully, so that's a plus."

Anborn: you remember this was the specific path that travelling band of circus freaks took during that so-called Elemental Cult nonsense that everyone was talking about for a while some time ago, you're sure of it. Ridiculous rumors.

Thankfully, nothing that wants to eat you guys follows you as you continue to make your way west. It's like..you've all been invited to this place. Yet, you don't feel exactly..safe. Eventually, you come to village.

THE VILLAGE OF BAROVIA

Tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The gravel road leads to the village of Barovia, its tall houses dark as tombstones. Nestled among these solemn dwellings are a handful of closed-up shops. Even the tavern is shut tight. The fog that's following behind you seems to be..leading you to a mansion in the village. It blocks your path whenever you try to go down a different way other than one that leads to a very specific mansion. How strange.

A soft whimpering draws your eye toward a pair of children standing in the middle of an otherwise lifeless street.

After shushing the boy, the girl turns to you and says, “There’s a monster in our house!” She then points to a tall brick row house that has seen better days. Its windows are dark. It has a gated portico on the ground floor, and the rusty gate is slightly ajar. The houses on either side are abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up.

This fog is moving. My eyes aren't playing tricks on me, it is actually guiding us in a specific direction. And bloody hell, there's children here.  "To me it doesn't look like the loss of your house is anything to be sad about, but if there's a monster, I can handle it. But why aren't the two of you with your parents. This doesn't seem like a place for children to be out unattended."