"what was it, Allen? It just... A rope." Rumble says, slightly annoyed

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OOC: might Rumble know the kinds of people/ culture these people look like? History: 6

Ismark shrugs, "It's a common rest stop for travelers, so while I've been to Tser Pool, I haven't seen these particular individuals." The wagon slows, and Ismark steers it to a an open area to the camp's side. Adding as it comes to a stop, "Agreed. I think this is a nice spot for a respite." He hops out and begins to tend to the horses.

Rumble, the history of the people are unknown to you, but they are rather familiar. The gaudy colours of attire, the loose-fitting leggings, and display of gold strike a strong resemblance of a ***** troupe as they make merry fireside. Looking on, their handsome figures remind you of Merno and ladies at the Barovian tavern.

"Gypsies. Can be an inviting people..." Rumble says. "Even though they're... Not really my style.."

“Well, I know I could do wi’ a bit of a rest! My arse is killin’ me!” Graeme says, rubbing his backside.

[What time of day is it?]

"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves." Hoping out of the cart Allen will walk over to the camp.

The group unloads, and Allen approaches the dozen men and women around the fire. At first, they take little notice, clearly intoxicated and telling a story. Just before Allen gets too close, the group erupts in laughter as an apparently good joke was told. One of the men falls over into his back, looking upside-down to see the tiefling's approach. He gasps, hiccups, and rights himself with a few lazy pat downs.

Content enough, he joyously asks, "Well, oh ho! Looks like we have some strangers round these parts! Please, please, join us in merriment." The assorted mismash of garishly dressed gypsies offer up wine skins and extend the offer in chorus.

Allen, it's now afternoon. The sun, or lack thereof, is at about 2-3 o'clock.

Graeme follows Allen, standing just a few feet behind, and keeping his axe where he can quickly get at it.

”Afternoon.” Graeme says stiffly “Afternoon. Name’s Graeme.”

As one, the group responds, "Graeme!", and they go in for a group cheers and chug of wine. The man who addressed Allen, clad in an orange bandana, a loud yellow top, and bright green leggings, offers a wineskin. "Come, come. Name's Raen; pleasure to meet you. Nothin' like sharin' a drink with a fellow traveler." An outstretched arm beckons the group to join.

Cought off guard he sits in for the drink. "Me being a Tiefling doesn't bother you?"

Scratching his loosely shaved chin, Raen states, "I don't see why it would. Especially a scrawny one like yourself. I've known a few of infernal blood in my time. Pardon my candor, but I mean no disrespect."

Rumble looks around, and begins to purr audibly.

'This may lead to some easy pickings...' he thinks to himself, looking around to mentally mark the most intoxicated groups or individuals, (insight:5 ) or the emptiest/ most unguarded tents. (Perception: 13 )

Rumble, looking around at the assembled group, it's clear everyone is drinking and enjoying the moment at the fire. Looking around, The five smaller tents are if the same design. They're round canvas draped in decadent colours, but they aren't very large. Standing a bit off to the side is the larger tent, of a rectangle shape and equally adorned with drapes of various bright colour hues. Hearing your loud purrs, the assembled women get excited. A few "awes" and "ohs" are heard in chorus as they look intently at the tabaxi. Standing next to you, Ireena like away as Ismark sits down with the assembled group and accepts a wineskin.

"None take." Allen chuckles "I was drawn to this place is there some here who could help us on our journey?" Allen in the rotation of the wineskin accepts when it's his turn and gets a good mouthful.

Graeme also sit at the fire and takes a wine skin. Takes a quick smell to see if he caN detect any poisons or other chemicals..

Perception : 12

Rumble decides to slink off and have a look at the other tents anyway. Stealth if needed: 8

Raen gives the group a moment to settle into a few good drinks before answering, "Aye, that I might. Sit a spell, and listen well." The assembled get comfortable and look onward in interest.

"A mighty wizard came to this land over a year ago. I remember him like it was yesterday. He stood exactly where you're standing. A very charismatic man, he was. He thought he could rally the people of Barovia against the devil Strahd. He stirred them with thoughts of revolt and bore them to the castle en masse."

"When the vampire appeared, the wizard's peasant army fled in terror. A few stood their ground and were never seen again. The wizard and the vampire cast spells at each other. Their battle flew from the courtyards of Ravenloft to a precipice overlooking the falls. I saw the battle with my own eyes. Thunder shook the mountainside, and great
rocks tumbled down upon the wizard, yet by his magic he survived. Lightning from the heavens struck the wizard, and again he stood his ground."

"But when the devil Strahd fell upon him, the wizard's magic couldn't save him. I saw him thrown a thousand feet to his death. I climbed down to the river to search for the wizard's body, to see if, you know, he had anything of value, but the River lvlis had already spirited him away." The assembled applaud the well-versed storyteller in unison.

Graeme, smelling and sipping slightly at the drink doesn't reveal any contamination of any kind. After all, the wineskin offered appears half empty; likely shared about by the friendly demeanored the assorted gypsies carry.

Rumble, venturing leftward first to the three tents, you're able to excuse yourself and make your way, unseen behind the parked wagons, to the curiosities you quest for. The various tent flags are open, revealing their rather colourful interiors. Various bright coloured fabrics hang inside against the inner walls. Each has a setup for two sleeping spots, a space for cooking, and individual's personal effects. Two have a sleeping individual, whereas the other is unoccupied. Heading towards the other two opposing tents of the same shape, it's more of the same.

The last tent is by far the largest. The rectangle tent is double the area of the previous ones, and the flap is closed.

Rumble has a peek inside the large rectangular tent.

Rumble, gingerly lifting the flap and peering in is an ostentatious atmosphere. Magic flames cast a reddish glow over the interior of this tent, revealing a low table covered in a black velvet cloth. Glints of light seem to flash from a crystal ball on the table as a hunched figure peers into its depths. As the crone speaks, her voice crackles like dry weeds. "At last you have arrived, Rumble! You've come a long way from the monastery." Cackling laughter bursts like mad lightning from her withered lips.

After the applause dies down, Graeme says “ Hang on, tha’ Vampire bastard can cast spells too?? **** me!”

Rumble freezes on the spot. An instinct which had been trained into him. Always doubt that the enemy had seen you, as if you remain perfectly still, even after being spotted, chances are they'll think you're a shadow.

But this was different.

This.. creature knows my name. Curiosity through the roof, a grin spreads accross Rumbles face. He walks up to her slowly, in plain view without saying a word.