Thadalas steps up, having his elven Shortbow in hand. He moves ahead of the others and investigate the tracks furthermore. "I've hunted wolves before, but not werewolves. Their tracks seem similar, I should be able to find them." Thadalas says proudly, looking over his shoulders at everyone else. He stands back up and pivots on his heel.

"We're the chosen from each of our faction to quell this menace. Whether it be because we're the best or we're expendable; it's our duty to save people now." Thadalas says, as he'll turn his attention back to the tracks to begin following them. He signal a hand gesture to the others to follow.

Rudick glowered at the gnome, but bit back a retort in favor of shaking his head once, before looking to Lucan in response to the claim. Though he showed no signs of recognition, the Orc at least acknowledged it with a respectful nod... prior ot Alev's sidebar taking him aback for a few moments. So much so, in fact, that part of the side conversation to happen after seems to go over his head initially, and the rest he'd been content listen to moreso just to catch up.

"Hmph. Well spoken." Rudick muttered under his breath as he moved to follow after the woodsman.

“The first mistake is to actually underestimate their intelligence. They’re once men just like us. They’re no ordinary wolves.”

He finally chimes in on the conversation.

“Are any of you bring silver weapon? They are impervious to normal steel you know.”

He looks at Alev.

”I am a bard yes, from the College of New Olamn. Not all bards are loud, some are just interested in lore and knowledge.”

Thadalas shakes his head as his arrow tips, rapier and daggers aren't silvered. "I don't have any silver. I didn't know they're impervious to normal steel." Thadalas says worriedly, wondering if they should reconsider their quest for a moment to retrieve silvered weapons before continuing the hunt.

Sergei tries to sound nonchalant, not nervous, as he speaks up,

"Are they impervious to magical attacks? Or fire?"

"...That bit of info about the steel and the silver would have been really good to know before coming here." Alev snarks, in shock. "Last time I checked my daggers are just plain steel, lucky me."

Before he can get angry or start panicking, he remembers something, and perks up a little. "I suppose they still die if they get burnt to a crisp, don't they?"

"If you have magical weapon that should be enough, fire would burn them like they burn normal wolves too." He replied Sergei's question.

"Are the Enclaves and the Zhent didn't give you anything to prepare you facing werewolves? Seems like the orc is right, some of us are indeed expendable." He says to Thadalas and Alev.

Lucan cannot believe that the other factions didn't even prepare their members correctly. Sending ones without the aid of magic or silvered weapons, that is the same as suicide in his opinion.

"Should've requested oil," Rudick muttered under his breath alongside an orcish curse. "It matters not. There are more ways to skin a cat than there trees in a forest. Compared to the trials and tests of my kin, what we've been bereft of by our individual group is nothing. If blades will not work, we burn them. Strangle them. Drown them. Hang them. Drop them off a cliff and see if Chauntae sorts them off. Whatever it takes... generally only the most resourceful will survive to breed in nature. So, why should this be in different in 'polite' society." He huffs.

"And what better way to make those of... opposing interest... potentially... learn the value of teamwork than making sure their survival depends upon it?" He asked as they continued to follow the tracks. "Regardless, we've brought together to take care of things, and so we shall... I would sooner see myself damned to the ninez than go back on my word."

Piping up from behind the Orc, Skip asks “Ok, as an expendable, might I enquire, with my mere expendability, will steel at least slow it down? If’n we can at least slow it down with steel, then magic or silver can get the killing blow.......I really can’t see how steel won’t hurt it. A foot of sharp through the gizzards is enough to slow anything. Even Rudick here”

"I'd imagine an arrow to the knee would definitely slow them down." Thadalas chimes in. "Perhaps once we find them, we can set up an ambush or trap of some sort to ensnare them if we're unable to inflict damage onto them."

“Perhaps they would slow down if you managed to pierce their hide. But from what I read, as I never fought a werewolf before, only silver can cut through it. But the I think you can still pin them down to the ground, Rudick, and you can definitely ensnare them, Thadalas. Then the spellcasters can do the rest. As for I, this little needle should be enough.”

He shows off his silver rapier to the group. The metal shines when the moon touches its blade.

Alev is visibly shaking for a moment, Lucan's words cutting deep. Expendable... Yeah, that makes sense. He should have seen it coming.

Well, it didn't matter, he thought as he composed himself, it wasn't the first time and it likely wouldn't be the last. He was already here, better to keep true to his word.

"...For what's worth, I'm with our orc friend here. I'd rather die trying to kill these beasts than betray the mission I was trusted with and fly away like a coward. If steel doesn't work, we'll just have to kill them some other way, it's not the end of the world." He says, hoping that he sounds more confident than he actually feels.

His eyes widen when he sees Lucan's silver rapier. He looks at it like a starving man watching a feast take place. "That's a very pretty needle you got there!" He caws, making a mental note to take cover behind the man who had the one weapon that worked against these monsters if things got ugly.

”What if we got it to turn back Into a person? Would steel work better then? We only need to slow it down enough that  Lucan can get that silver in its gizzards, or a caster can burn it up.”

Sergei walks with the group in silence, absorbing the conversation.

The party leaves the road and begins to follow the tracks through the woods. It is Autumn now, and the trees around you are beginning to turn vibrant shades of red and yellow. A few minutes in, you stop in your tracks as a wolven howl splits the calm of the night. This howl is deeper and richer in tone than never any other wolf howl you have heard. You can almost feel it deep in your bones as much as you can hear it. The howling subsides after nearly a minute, and the normal sounds of a forest at night takes over.

The tracks you are following are surprisingly easy to follow under the light of the full moon. The deep tracks are pressed into the situation soil and detritus of the forest floor. 

After a few hours of following the trail, you notice a fine mist seeping between the trees. The deciduous trees around you begin to give way to pine and fir trees. The woods darken as the trees begin to close ranks, their needle-covered branches interlocking to blot out the cold light of the moon overhead. The shrouds of mist covering the ground turns into walls of gray fog that silently envelop you until you can't see more than a few feet in each direction. Soon, even the werewolf tracks disappear.

You stumble across a muddy road cutting across your path. Black pools of water stand like mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the mist. The tracks follow the road.

After nearly five hours of following the road, the fog spills out of the trees to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone butresses looking gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings to the rusted bars with cold tenacity. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their head now lying among the weeds at those feet. They greet you only with silence. As you approach, the gates swing open of their own accord with sound of screeching metal.

Under raging storm clouds, a lone figure stands silhouetted against the ancient walls of Castle Ravenloft. The vampire Count Strahd von Zarovitch stares down a sheer cliff at the village below. A cold, bitter wind spins dead leaves about him, billowing his cape in the darkness. Lightning splits the clouds overhead, casting stark white light about him. Strahd turns to the sky, revealing the angular muscles of his face and hands. He has the look of power ---- and of madness. His once handsome face is contorted by a tragedy darker than the night itself.

Rumbling thunder pounds the castle spires. The wind's howling increases as Strahd turns his gaze back to the village. Far below, yet not beyond his ken, a party of adventurers have just entered his domain. Strahd's face form a a twisted smile as his dark plans unfold. He knew that they were coming, and why they have done ---- all according to his plan. He, the master of Ravenloft, will attend to them.

Another lightning flash dips through the darkness, its thunder echoing across the castle towers. But Strahd is gone. Only the bowling of the wind, or perhaps a lone wolf ---- fills the midnight air. The master of Ravenloft is having guests for dinner. And you are invited.

"What the..." Alev just stares at the headless statues, almost expecting them to start moving. When they don't, he sighs with relief.

"Ok, I know that rich nobles can be weird, but this is really stupid! Who builts such creepy gates in the middle of nowhere?" He nervously rambles. "What are these gates even for? I don't see anything, and I don't remember anything being in the map either..."

He goes quiet and takes a step back, shrinking into his cloak as he stays behind Lucan and Sergei, something of a wordless 'You go first'.

Sergei is quite unnerved by the aggressive fog. He looks up at the walls, statues, and gates and had a very ominous feeling. He tries to voice his concern,

“I don’t pretend to know much woodcraft, but are you sure you’ve led us the right way? Lord Lanniver Strayl didn’t mention anything about this wall or gate...”

Sergei approaches and studies the design of armor, style of carving on the statues, the make and design of the gate, the architectural style of the wall. He’s wracking his brain, calling upon his studies, to see what he can recognize and know about these structures.

”everyone saw that right? The gates? They opened by themselves  And it sounds like they haven’t opened for a long time, either by themselves or not.”

skip move to the gate to check them out, to see if they really did open by themselves

Investigation check 14

"Where are we? There isn't any gates like this near Daggerford." Lucan stops and quickly browse his books and maps on Daggerford and the surroundings. 

History check 7

Sergei suggests,

"Perhaps a manorhouse? An old, abandoned manorhouse deep in the woods...?"