Kraerd looks up to the aristocratic man that just appeared and comes back to his gruesome occupation mumbling something about crazy lowlanders and their need to Breath more air in his own tongue. 
When he finish preparing the dire wolf he puts his hand on the wolf’s head, closed his eyes and says some words of respect to the wolf’s spirit. 
He then begin the same process in the smaller wolves. 

If not disturbed he ignores the man and let his companions deal with him. He has no time or patience for a crazy lowlander that walks and talks in the middle of the fog.

Zeuves scours the perimeter to check everyone for any wound that seems critical and need immediate attention and found none. Everyone had a few scratches that bled but nothing serious. When Shariel's voice calls for his attention, he immediately turns and approaches him. Though he knew he could reason with the man, he noted the noise of tearing flesh and snapping bones that came from Kraerd and would not help his cause. Taking a good look at the stranger, he tries to draw familiarity at that blur of a figure he almost remembers among the wolves as the skirmish consumed him. "We are passing with no ill intent of harm." He raises his firm voice only to draw away from Shariel's ire. "Neither we trespass. What is the purpose of this attack?" He tries to recognize the expression on the man's face through the distance and the thickness of the fog may impair. 

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As the beasts come to their senses and see defeat before they are all pay with their lives for it, Zeuves wipes the cold sweat off his forehead and scours to see if there was any serious damage done. He bypasses Kraerd, patting his back in a friendly gesture for good job done, then reaches to Ravodaar and offer a hand to help him stand up. If accepted, there would be more than firmness to the grip, but also some warmth that spread across the forearm and numbs the feeling of pain. "Anyone hurt?", he speaks over a shoulder to the rest.

 

As the wolf turns and leaps back into the fog, the warlock winces as he steps towards Ravodaar. He checks the place where the wolf's jaws set upon his thigh, and finds that the area is painfully bruised but not torn or bloody. "Thank you, my friend," he murmurs to the firbolg. "Your power hass helped me again."

Quote from Agonzo516 >>

As the wolf disappears into the forest, you all hear a voice call out from ahead of you on the road, “Now that is certainly no way to treat a fleeing foe... I love it though!” The figure continues to walk closer laughing light heartedly. “The ferocity you all showed was quite enticing. Forgive me, I am the lord of this land, Strahd von Zarovich.” Now standing in full view, you see a tall slender man dressed in very nice aristocratic clothes that seem a little old and outdated. “I wished to simply welcome my new visitors to the land of Barovia!” As he says this he holds his arms wide. 

"Greetingsss, my lord," Marius replies. "What iss Barovia? To my knowledge, there iss no Barovia north of Neverwinter."

As the voice and figure approaches, Rav begins ushering folks behind him. "Behind me! On your feet, Kraerd, this could be a foe. What do you want, exactly, 'Lord' Zarovich? We travel these roads freely and have seen no postings of claiming lordly rights in the form of payment. So you admit to freely attacking innocent travelers upon your roads? To what purpose?" He keeps his blade at the ready, brandishing his gilded shield in front of him.

    "That sure was one hell of a welcome wagon," Otis echos the sentiment of the others as he holsters his rod on a belt loop. "Nothing we couldn't handle." He pulls out a small leather pouch from his hind pocket. He reaches on with two fingers and pulls out a pinch of of chewing tobacco, tucking it into his lower lip. 

Kraerd, without stoping on his work replies to Rav. 

"What are you talking about? He is just one and you are more. And he is saying hello. He hasn't attacked us, the wolves did. You treat with him... " and he finish more to himself " and I will be quick this fog is affecting them more than usual... " 

Stepping towards the party, observing intently each and every reaction, “Well it wouldn’t be fair to say those were my dogs per se... though all in Barovia do serve me. And to threaten your humble host with such hostility...” the man trails off smacking his tongue. He takes a big breath through his nose, “It does add a nice aroma to the air though. I simply heard there were new travelers on the road entering Barovia. I wanted to see them for my self and hear you are!” He continues to walk into the center of the group towards Kraerd, “I like this one. That one too,” As he points to Marius. “As far as where Barovia is, and where you have ended up, Barovia is everywhere, and nowhere. North and South, East and West.” Strahd looks up at the sky, “Oh would you look at the time, I must be going. But I do hope to see you again... soon. I will send invitation to my castle Ravenloft for you, we should share a meal...” He turns and begins to walk away into the fog. 
If you try to follow a few feet, you notice that he is nowhere in sight.

Marius waves goodbye to the interloper. "He'ss not wrong. I think he told the wolvess to sstop attacking."

     "Well, so much for getting some directions. At least we know we made it to the right place." Otis wanders toward the path the mysterious man departed down. He scratches his head finding nothing but the fog in his wake. "So, guess we just wander around until we find this Burgomaster, huh?"

 Shariel stomps over and shoves Marius' hand down, "Of course he did, and he probably gave the order to attack too! Shit, I don't like this. Let's just get the hell out of this forest and fog. It all feels really....disconnected. I used to get a faint sensation, like I could sort of feel the things around me and myself anchored to the world. Now, though, this just feels wrong." 

Kraerd shakes his head when the Count talks and dissapears. 

“I must finish this. I will prepare you a wolf meal that will make you forget the fog...” he says starting to skin the last wolf 

Marius snatches his hand back. "Don't bruisse the merchandisse, Grabby!" He titters, then begins to laugh louder and longer. For thirty seconds or so, he is overcome with belly laughs. This is not the first time you've seen this happen, but perhaps the longest you've been it go on. The scars on his cheeks and around his eyes crinkle and dance as his laughter continues.

The laughter stops in the space of a heartbeat, and he shrugs and continues, "Moving on soundss like a gloriouss plan. A gloriouss plan, indeed! Which way do we go? This fog makess every direction look equally enticing..."

Zeuves studies the expression of the stranger, noting his complete disregard of threat and his full control over the situation with not even a glimpse of threat. He tries to shake off his initial outburst of authoritative questions that do not get answered, merely acknowledged, but it only spikes his Zhentil-trained sense of threat. "He did not told the wolves to stop attacking.", he turns to Marius trying to maintain a calm voice. "If he was both able to drive them to attack us and then wave the threat away, he is merely testing us. And I do not like being tested." He checks the expression and response from others before continuing. "We should turn back. This fog is too thick for us to see clear the way ahead. This is not worth exploring further. Does anyone else need assistance?" He glances over a shoulder at Kraerd, making sure that he at least removes the livers before considering the meat worthy of meal.

You all decide on a direction and continue walking for what feels like another two hours. Soon the fog begins to thin out a little in front of you, but remains thick behind you. The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence. As you approach the gates, they seemingly open for you to pass through, though no one can be seen anywhere to have opened them for you. As the last of you step through the gates, they close behind you. If you try to open them, they do not budge.

Seeing as how there is no other way to go, you continue down the path. The fog appears much thinner along this side of the giant stone wall, but still every looming. A ways down the path Kraerd notices that your presence in this dreary land has not only been noticed by the wolves, a raven follows you for several minutes while keeping a respectful distance.

Zeuves stands by the gates as they slowly open ominously - although most likely powered by practical magic - and shakes his head. "I reckon no map that speaks or marks the location of this. Damned be the fog, we must make sense of direction where we stand."

With the pelts of the wolves rolled on his back and a bloody sack on his side Kraerd looks up several times to the sky and points to the raven when he makes sure the animal seems to be following them. 

" At least that one is smart enough not try to eat us.. " he laughs. 

When they enter the stone doors and they close behind them he pushes them, trying to get them opened again. 

Ravodaar walks closely to his companions in the thick fog, not liking this place one bit... and definitely not the "greeting" that warmed them with the mysterious Count. "This place... I am beginning to regret taking this invitation." When the massive gates swing closed behind them and not even Kraerd can push it open, Rav hisses a curse. "Damn these people and the games they play! I do not like the raven, perhaps we should take it down? I feel it is a spy."

Shariel pulls a dagger from her belt and tracks the raven, "That can be arranged..."

Zeuves stands by Shariel to prevent a provocation if needed. "We can, but it doesn't mean we should. I cannot shake the feeling we are followed, right after being tested. I dislike this as much as you do but we are not here to cause harm and make enemies." He feels unsure for a moment, turning to look at the raven. "We have a task and there is someone needing our help. If so, let us get it done and leave."

"Fine..." Shariel relents with a huff. She stows the dagger and flings a pebble down the path with a mental push.