The group, having recovered the skittish horses, push on down the northern trail towards the Tser Pool camp. Soon, the canopy of mist and branches overhead give way to open sky---though the sky is black with roiling storm clouds. A circle of colorful wagons and a scattering of tents are ranged about a dancing bonfire, and a handful of men and women in colorful garb sit quietly near the wagons. Beyond the camp, a small lake reflects the angry sky overhead.
As the group rides into the encampment, the Vistanti stare at the group cooly, sharing glances between them. Bringing the horses to the middle of the camp, the party notices one particularly large tent set aside from the others nearer to the lake's water. Two other Visanti visibly guard it.
As they ride into camp, Sir Khensu takes a moment to stare intently in the direction of the gathered Vistanti.[sblock=Sir Khensu]Though Khensu only glances quickly, the touch of moral decay is present within the camp. He is not certain of the presence of evil on any particular Vistanti, but it touches at least one of them.[/sblock]
Before the party can speak, one of the colorful men separates from the largest group and approaches the riders, hands in front of him. Like the other Vistanti you have seen, his speech is thicker than even those of the village.
"You travelers? New people to Barovia, yes? You seek Madam Eva? She there." He points to the tent. Any questions directed his way are met with a shake of his head.
"I no speak village language well. Speak Madam Eva."
The group dismounts, leaving there horses near the large tent, and push inside. It is quite roomy, though the various collections of beads, feathers, and other arcane leavings make it feel more cramped than its apparent size. What little furniture there is is lavishally colored, as gaudy as the rest of the camp.
At the far side of the tent is its only inhabitant, presumably Madam Eva. The old woman is enormous, for a moment seeming more like an ogre of small giant than the ancient, wrinkled human she is. She hunches over a table that is dwarfed by her bulk, and her black eyes gleam as she shuffles a deck of weathered playing cards. her hands are bony and spotted with age. When she speaks, her voice crackles like dry weeds.
"At last, you come to see Madam Eva. She has waited some time. What shall Madam Eva speak to you about, hmmm?"