After spending what felt like weeks in Waterdeep, you are all anxious to get back to what you do best - adventuring. You rise early, preparing to join the caravan heading to Daggerford, and back to your familiar surroundings. As you gather outside the inn in the pre-dawn darkness, it's Nahin, Marcus, Rory, Jayce and Grinkle. You pause, almost going back in to retrieve Han, Dak and Tidake, but you continue on toward the muster point for the caravan.
As you reach the nearby market square, you see about 20 wagons with 2 horses a piece, and about 20 horses with mercenary types on them, impatiently waiting to get on the road. As you approach, a corpulent bald man in a huge red robe approaches you, breathing heavily and smiling, "Good morning, friends! I've been expecting you! Please, come with me!" He leads you to a fairly plain but comfortable wagon with solid sides (think stagecoach sort of wagon) and says "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I am Grossbart, your humble caravan leader. Snow is imminent, and we plan on pushing on to Daggerford in 6 days, at most. I have some capable guards, so you can enjoy your ride and we'll have you in Daggerford in no time. Okay?" He points out where the water, rations and blankets are in the carriage, and says "Well, if you don't mind, I'll be getting back to the front. We'll be pushing off soon. Holler if you need anything, eh?"
You settle in for the trip, uneasy about being in such comfort, but also happy at not having to worry about some impending doom for once. As you chat amongst yourselves for a few minutes, you are jolted by the forward movement of the caravan. You are off.
(To expedite things, I am going to roll for encounters and summarize. If you wish to interrupt travel for any reason, just go ahead.)
By the end of day one, a light snow is falling, and you hear mumbling about being just in time for departing. You stop for camp and by morning, about a foot of snow is on the ground, but thankfully the flakes stop by early AM. You continue on, with cold temperatures besetting you, but three more days pass without incident, and other than the cold, it doesn't snow.
About 1PM on the 4th day, as you are in the open plains about a day and a half out of Daggerford, you hear a shout from ahead (you are about 5th out of the 20 wagons). As the caravan stops, you peer out the windows, and about 1/4 mile ahead, you see about 5 wagons burning, with no activity apparent. You see no one about. 10 mercenary riders slowly trot ahead as you see Grosbart dismount and nervously watch them.
Actions? You see nothing around. You are in the plains, scrub brush abounds, about 4 ft tall, with low rolling hills around you. The burning wagons appear to be just off the road in a campsite that is flanked by a copse of tall oaks, about 20 acres of trees, an odd sight in the basically open areas of this part of the coast.