Sho's taking some time studying the bone needle before returning it to the leather worker. While he does, he tells him "I will get you better materials."

As Bertolt tells him about the strange potion, he nods and shares similar sentiment by calling the Vistani "avaricious opportunists."

During the past days, Sho finds Talion and tells him he’s glad he’s having an interest in arcane. He hands him two blocks of incense that he’s been looking for and lets him know he’s available if he wants to specialize. With his usual vaguery. He does not invite himself to the little study sessions between Talion and Bertolt as he feels no need to intrude their bonding moment.

Otherwise, Sho has been pretty self-occupied, even though he doesn’t seem to be doing anything in particular. It is not much different from his days back at the caravan. He’s been good at radiating a vibe that is not cold enough to bluntly say he doesn’t want to be bothered, but is distant enough to make people think reflectively maybe they shouldn’t bother him with themselves.

The night passes by fitfully for you.  Several times you are awakened by swarms of bats flying overhead.  Looking in the distance you would swear you could see human-shaped figure hovering in the air, watching, cape fluttering behind, teeth gleaming in the dull light of the moon...
But no attacks come.  You are left feeling a bit helpless.  The Vistani simply shrug at your discomfort and offer you some breakfast before heading out.

It begins to rain lightly as your caravan moves inexorably towards the village, the castle overlooking the village also begins to come into view.  The rain combined with the growing humidity causes a fog to cover the village like a blanket.  You're reminded of the words in the Burgomaster's letter, "the weeping walls of Barovia," and they seem quite apt considering what you are looking at.  You're not quite certain if you've seen a sadder, more depressed looking place, even at this distance... 

The caravan stops outside, moving to the side of the road.  Tall shapes loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones that lead into the village itself.  The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for a pointed, mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance somewhere to your right...


Stanimir nods to the gloomy buildings in the distance.  "Aye, here is the village of Barovia.  We will wait for your here, adventurers.  We are not so welcome in certain places.  A word about these people: they are simple, frightened, and terrified.  Some have souls but many do not.  It will be easy for you to spot these ones, for they know nothing but fear - they have no charm, no warmth, no spark or hope.  They don't cry or laugh.  And none can leave.  They are like cornered, wounded animals.  You can gain knowledge from them yes, but be careful.  This place sits in the shadow of the curse itself," Stanimir pauses to make a warding sign.  "There is but a single tavern in the village, the Blood on the Vine, and there is a merchant here as well, though," looks at Sho and grins, "you may not like his prices.  The lone church," he points in the distance, "was dedicated to the Morninglord himself, a long, long time ago.  But as you already know by now, reaching your deity from this place is like speaking underwater.  Our comrades own the tavern, so be sure to mention you came here with us.  They might be more...amenable.  Take as long as you wish, adventurers, as it will only be as long as the fates have determined."  He grins and points to the cobbled street ahead.  "The tavern lies that way, keep to the right. Now, if there is nothing else...?"

Onyx frowns as he sizes up the gloomy town.  It certainly looked like a place a vampire spawn might terrorize.  He  looks to his friends, and then down the cobbled street before setting off, boots making small thuds and splashes across the wet stones.

"Well friends, to the tavern it is?  I'd like to make a stop at the temple as well, but I can do that alone."

Erven turns to Stanimir and says “Will we find Madam Eva in the tavern?  Where would she be, after what you have said we need to meet with her.  Also, do you know where Kolyan Indirovich, the Burgomaster lives?  Thank you for bringing us here safely, Stanimir and for your hospitality.  Thank you for helping the lost traveller.” And he bows his head to him briefly as a sign of respect.

Quote from Twombley >>

Erven turns to Stanimir and says “Will we find Madam Eva in the tavern?  Where would she be, after what you have said we need to meet with her.  Also, do you know where Kolyan Indirovich, the Burgomaster lives?  Thank you for bringing us here safely, Stanimir and for your hospitality.  Thank you for helping the lost traveller.” And he bows his head to him briefly as a sign of respect.

 "No, as I said, she is further down the road.  As for the Burgomaster, his house is the big one at the south end of the village.  I am sure you can find more information at the tavern.  Again, we will wait here for you.  Good luck."

Hearing that Erven hops off the wagon and gathers his things, prepares to walk down the street to the Blood on the Vine, eyes darting around, looking out for those bats that were seen before, anything else that looks out of place.  He isn't used to being in towns, around many people at one time, but after the events of the last few days he is certainly open to a good hot meal and a bath.  He looks over to the others and says "You all could do with one too.   They probably smell us coming from here!"  He motions for Lucky Bear to stay close to his side.

Bertolt will say farewell to his new friend, frowning as he steps away from the caravan as the loud cries reach his ears. Based on what has been told to him he simply shrugs the thought of it away. "Aye let us be off to the tavern and then to find the Burgomaster. I for one would like to check in on this church."

As walk through the street along the road,  you notice it bends slightly to the right, just like Stanimir said it would.  You see several darkened houses along the way, some with sounds and whispers coming from them, some silent, some that have faint lights that are quickly snuffed out when you near. 

Assuming you don't look in any buildings etc... you eventually come to what seems to be a main square.  

To your left stands a large building:  A single shaft of light thrusts illumination from the window into the main square, its brightness looking like a solid pillar in the heavy fog. Above the gaping doorway, a sign hangs precariously askew, proclaiming this to be the Blood on the Vine tavern.

To the right stands another large building, the sparse light from this building spills out from behind drawn heavy curtains. A sign over the door, creaking on its hinges, reads “Bildrath’s Mercantile.”

Erven and Sho, a moaning sob floats through the still, gray streets, coloring your thoughts with sadness. The sounds flow from a dark, two-story townhouse to your right, beside Bildrath's Mercantile.  It’s clearly a woman’s voice doing the sobbing. 

Erven turns to Sho and says “Do you hear that Sho?  Should we investigate? “  Erven turns to the others and says “Do you hear that sobbing?  Should we have a look?”

A muscle in Sho’s jaw twitches in a controlled pouting as he glares at Stanimir. Not the best people to do business with, the Vistani, but his mood is pretty amendable seeing they are leaving them behind, so that explains why he’s walking a little more briskly than usual.

“The soulless…” he considers as they walk down the gloomy, wet streets, and comments casually, “A lot of creatures don’t have souls. Most animals, some monsters. Creatures that do not possess a network of life force complex enough to have a soul. Consciousness, but not humanity. However, a person without a soul…” He cocks his head, interested.

He stops in his track, hearing the sobbing drifting down the other building, blurred by the weeping muzzle. “Perhaps,” he answers Erven, though he has a feeling sobbing is not a rare occurrence in this town, “But we should check in first.”

Talion looks up at the window and shrugs, "A drink -- and news -- first, I think. Misery can wait." He stares at the window for a moment, before turning back to the inn. "Too many good deeds might become a habit. Besides, it's likely a dead spirit of a child or something..." he says.

With that he nods to the others and makes his was to the inn.

Erven lingers for a second, trying to pinpoint the sound, any words, any indication of what is happening.  

Perception :  18 

Then he follows the others and walks into the Blood on the Vine.

Bertolt will make his way into the tavern, offering a weak nod to any that may acknowledge his entrance into the run down place. He will go off to the side and find a table large enough for the group. 

Quote from Twombley >>

Erven lingers for a second, trying to pinpoint the sound, any words, any indication of what is happening.  

Perception :  15 

Then he follows the others and walks into the Blood on the Vine.

 You know it’s coming from the first house to the right, just beside and a bit behind the mercantile store. There is a woman who is sobbing within...

ok it looks like you want to go in to the tavern. I’ll try to update in a few hours. 

Onyx musters a wry smile as the group ignores the weeping woman and collectively drifts towards the tavern.

"This is a place where many tears are shed.  Searching out every sorrow is an impossible task.  We'd do more good by gathering our strength and seeing how we can address the collective cause."

Erven and Sho stop to listen at the sound, which they perceived first and alert you to the fact.  Sighing and tired of the wanton cruelty that seems to dominate this weird, unfamiliar land the rest of you shrug.  A fleeting thought - perhaps how this new reality is shaping your humanity - races briefly through both of your minds.  You wonder if the sobs of your mother would have caused you to consider differently?  In any case, a decision made is a dilemma laid to rest, and that's got to count for something...

As you approach the door, your gaze trends upward at the creaking sign.  Inspection of the sign reveals that it originally read “Blood of the Vine.” Someone has scratched an "n" where the "f" used to be.  The tavern building is about 60 feet square and you can tell that it was once finely appointed but has grown shoddy over the years. A blazing fire in the hearth gives scant warmth to the few huddled souls within:  the barkeep, who looks up briefly at your entrance before continuing to polish some mugs; three colourful figures sitting together that remind you of the Vistani, and a man sitting in the corner sipping what looks to be wine.  The shadows play on his features as he looks up.  Unlike the barkeep he keeps his eyes on you as he continues to sip at his cup.

Bertolt can remember this but for a bit of help, here is a map.  You entered the village from the west.  The tavern is the red x.

Erven looks back from time to time to the source of the moaning, something nagging at him.  After he sees the occupants in the tavern he starts to forget.  He takes in the scene, making observations about the locals, particularly interested in the man sitting in the corner alone.  He looks to his eyes, face, features and his glass of wine.  He steps aside and lets Bert lead in the discussion with the barkeep and Vistani, remembering what Stanimir said and remembering the scholar’s interesting connection that he formed with the Vistani.  

Bertolt pulls out one of his empty parchment and begins to draw a rough map of what they have seen of the village. It is clear be is not exactly a cartographer but it was better then no map at all... Or at least he hoped so.

The barkeep is a small, balding, pudgy looking fellow with mutton chops who pays you no real attention. 
The three Vistani sit off to the side of the entrance, speaking in low hushed tones. They seem to look at you now and then but don’t approach you in any way. 
The man sitting by himself returns your stares and grins. He stands and beckons you over in a strong voice, “Hail, travelers. Come and sit with me, drink and dine. I would talk with you all a while.”  He seems young and seems different somehow in comparison to the barkeep. As he stands, a long sword clangs in its scabbard on his hip. From his bearing and the agile movements, you can tell this one has obviously had some martial training.