[hr][center][@Hekazu] [color=tan]The Unnamable[/color][/center][hr]Both the puppet as well as the man in whose hands it was carried in turned to look at each person that spoke, curiosity reflecting in the more lively pair of the eyes. The answers of the storyteller flowed through the man's ears into the mind, but did not bring up any visible reaction. Other than perhaps a twitching of ears. 

With the horses rising off the ground, so did the man, approaching the "animals" with a cautious gait, but once again curious gaze. A hand laid upon the mount's surface relied the knowledge of them being sturdy enough to sit on, and though climbing atop a horse with one hand was not what one often preferred to do, George needn't help his puppeteer in the task. Though now sat atop the horse, a certain modicum of care was still maintained. As if fearful of the swarm collapsing under one's weight. 

"Until we meet again", the storyteller found their words repeated back to them by the voice of George upon their departure. These were interesting people. Mayhaps they had still secrets left to tell? Their next encounter would be something to look forward to, to be sure. 

The realm around them all and its gloominess were, at this point, no strangers to the puppeteer who kept following their guide. The sounds of the environment did raise the level of alertness in the traveler, but for the time being everything was just fine. Suddenly, new sounds. Ones that gave reason for worry. And as if on cue, the guide took off. The reason was understood, or so the man with the puppet at least hoped as he encouraged his horse to follow at the new brisk pace. No matter the statues now. They could not afford losing their guide to this Lady who led all the Vistani.

[hr][center][@Lady Selune][color=darkmagenta]Mhyrienne - The Mildly Suspicious[/color][/center][hr]They had arrived. 

The gates. 

She had read of them, of course. Heard oft them, as one of her possession almost had to do after a certain time. Expect herself to stare at grim-faced statues, wide doors, taller than any being in creation? No, no she had not. Instead she found herself experiencing emotions that, when combined into one singular idea, came out as something along the lines of a mildly concerned 'fuck me.' 

Their guide suddenly galloped onward... Well, slowing would be foolish. Her mount was spurred onward, in order to keep up. Losing sight of their prize now would be... Unfortunate, to say the very least.

[hr][center][@BCTheEntity] [color=deepskyblue]Talran Galelove - Medium Friendly Paladin[/color][/center][hr]The mounts were certainly of a unique sort. Who ever heard of a horse made of worms, after all? Nonetheless, Talran found himself mounting one of the beasts, and wishing the travelers farewell in his own right as they escaped into the shadows. A unique situation, but overall worth the time. 

In due course, the party made their pleasant way to the gates, borne by their insectile steeds as readily as any usual horse would. What immense architecture - and so well-fashioned, save whatever stone had failed to deter the decapitation of the ancient guardians on either side of the doorway. Then again, perhaps that had been intentionally performed, and if so... who would take the time? Curious, curious. The elven woman's sentiment summed up the feeling of awe but crudely. 

And even more curious, the decision of their guide Markus to suddenly charge ahead. Was that usual? No, perhaps not, if Talran's puppeteering ally and samesaid elf began to gallop after him. Perhaps wise, then, to ensure Talran himself kept up; he in turn took off after his allies, spurring his steed to a gallop as well. What might have triggered Markus' flight, he wondered?

[hr][center][@William Cade] [color=navajowhite]Egil[/color][/center][hr]Hearing the howling in the background, the fighter scanned the ominous gates and turned to the group, [color=navajowhite]"There's something coming. Hope you all know how to fight."[/color]

Shaking his head as the others took off, Egil drew his long sword and dug in his heels.

[hr][center][@JohnSolaris] [b][color=maroon]Zaerith Dustborn[/color][/b][/center][hr]Zaerith focuses his gaze on the horse composed of writhing insects, another strange thing offered to him by this strange group. Interesting… From what he can tell, the steed is not unlike his own familiar in nature, though powered by forces more druidic than wizardly. Like the verdant brew he consumed earlier, the mount does not seem intent to bear him any harm. He should probably trust the Vistani to not suddenly turn on him, at least for now. 

Besides… They can’t kill him anyways. And if it turns out they can, won’t that simply be the release he’s been looking for this whole time? 

The mass of chittering bugs is not the most pleasant of things to look at, but he’s seen far more gruesome things. Without a word of complaint, he mounts the grotesque construct, finding it to be far sturdier than its appearance suggests. Yes, this will do. 

… 

As they come upon the decapitated statues guarding the gates into Barovia, Zaerith resists the urge to grimly chuckle. How fitting, if nothing else. 

But before he has the opportunity to take in the scenery more carefully, the group’s guide suddenly gallops on ahead for reasons unknown. This… Could this be a trap after all? No, he should not jump to conclusions; there may well be other circumstances. And it appears that most of his other companions agree. In such a case, there is little else to do other than to follow.[hr]