"That... that is terrifying." Denae admits. "A grisly price." She takes another moment and adds: "You seem to be well-acquainted with the fey, Mr. Badger, so I can only imagine that yours is likely a good guess. Even if not on point, I imagine her acceptance of peace may call for another price just as cruel." She then turns to look at Utar as he provides his own thoughts on the matter and says: "I'll try to stay as positive as Utar here. Torm seems to favor him."

When Doozey turns to Seranolla, she admits: "At the moment, no, I'm to remain here." She may be willing to reveal more, but that will depend on how persuaded she feels by Utar's earlier gradual line of questioning and Doozey's more direct approach.

(@Ori & @MB: You can each roll a persuasion check, or one can provide help for the other.)

"If we give in to despair at this early stage, it is just another obstacle for us to overcome and an advantage for those who oppose us. Let's not defeat ourselves before we've even begun."

Hoping to have buoyed the parties spirits, Utar turns his attention towards Seranolla, "While we wouldn't ask you to accompany us, I get the feeling that there's a little more you could share if you wanted to."

(OOC Can we call Utar's gentle cajoling, help for Doozey's check?)

Doozey nodded solemnly in seeing his point take root. Though at the mention being well-acquainted with the fey, the halfling looked away with a sad smile and muttered, "Aye, more than even I thought", before shaking his head. His attention in time turned to Utar, and in seeing an opportunity to seize, the stoutling adds, "A-aye. Perhaps something you overheard that slipped on your mind up to now, or an idle thought you might be having that you could just get off your chest without needing to mind who's listening for once, yea?" He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in a bit, before then locking eyes on whatever log or boulder Seranolla happened to be sitting on at the time.

"Or, you know, that, uhhh, seat of yours to, oh, I dunno, could be convinced magically to go on walkabout in a certain direction, you wouldn't technically be going against a certain someone's word, perhaps? Hmm?" He flashes a forced smile. 

-Persuasion: 22.

(OOC: Yes, that can be the help action. As for the roll, although I can't see the result, I'm happy to go with the 24 mentioned in the OOC chat.)

Seranolla smiles, knowing the topic won't be let go unless she divulges some more information. She nods at Utar and Doozey: "Ah, that tenacity good ol' CRAP is becoming famous for. Very well. You know as well as I do that the fey enjoy their cryptic messages and wordplay. Though my instructions were clear enough, I can't say I know exactly to what end they were given. I was told to serve as my new master's eyes and ears at the intersection of domains within the Quivering Forest. Reuniting with old allies would mark the beginning of my watch. And so, here I am. And no, I cannot go with you, but I trust you not to need my help in either bargaining or fighting. I'll be here when you come back this way after dealing with the lady-of-that-a-way." She shares another comforting grandmotherly smile.

@Doozey: She is sitting on a rotting stump, her wide but soiled skirt covering most of her seat.

She laughs politely when Doozey mentions a "moving seat" and adds: "Ha, you can match the fey with your clever twisting of words an exploiting wordplay. Quite the brains on you, dear Doozey. But I am too old to go toe-on-toe with the commands of a Feylord. I would rather not leave a bad taste in his mouth with my actions. I still care for the Emerald Enclave and would not want their communications and trade with the elves of Greenhall to go sour on my account... or yours, as I kindly requested earlier." 

Utar begins nodding his head as Seranolla ends her first statement, "I think I understand.  We'll certainly come back this way after our meeting if we would be welcome?"

Looking to address the others CRAPpers, Utar adds, "Best we be on our way unless we have any final preparations to make before we meet the mysterious lady of the woods down yonder?"

"The only thing I can think of, in term of preparation, is to assume nothing. That way we may be more flexible in conversation."

Seranolla smiles at Utar and clarifies: "I welcome a third visit, yes, but I can't speak for Greenhall."

In response to Neya's comment, Seranolla nods in agreement: "That is wise. I doubt you'd be afraid, but be sure not to show fear. Some of these fey derive joy from bringing people low and seeing hope turn into despair, not just for individuals but also for whole nations. Don't give her that. It should put you in a better bargaining position."

Understanding Utar's words and realizing the group is getting ready to leave soon, Seranolla gives Biscuit a few last scratches and rewards the mastiff's loyalty and companionship with a toughened hide. "Go on now. This should help keep you safe for the next hour or so. You keep an eye on them, I'll keep an eye on you, alright good boy?" She smiles so widely that her cheeks produce two pairs of dimples.

Following silent responses to Utar's prompt, Denae makes an executive decision: "Very well. Let us get a move on while Utar's positivity is still fresh. I'll lead the way down the path." CRAP says their farewells to Seranolla for now, Biscuit being the last one to leave the old gnome's side.

The walk down this other path truly is much shorter than CRAP's originally chosen way, but you still find yourselves walking in a mostly reclaimed-by-nature path for the better part of two hours. Near the end of that time period, Doozey's and Biscuit's enhanced smelling senses are the first to pick up new scents: delicious food, fresh flowers, and wood smoke. Neya notices that the lighting in the area dims even more than what she would have expected judging by the amount of light passing through the canopy above, as if the party was eternally surrounded by the dying light of dusk. Utar picks up on recognizable but misplaced sounds, such as the crack and snap of burning logs and the bubbling of stew, even though no hearth or cooking fire are seen nearby.

Then, these strange sounds and smells begin to make more sense as you round a bend in the path and come to a large clearing. The ever-present canopy is open here, lending you your first view of the sky in days: it seems to be dusk. There is a small cottage of neatly stacked logs with a roof of tidily arranged shingles, grown over with moss on the far side of the glade. An open cook pit is in the center of the clearing, over which a large cooking pot hangs from a tripod of iron rods, bubbling and sending delicious-smelling steam into the air. The warmth and light of the fire warms you to the bones, banishing the forest's oppressive gloom.

The weather here is quite different than elsewhere in the forest. The dusky sky is clear and stars already sparkle overhead. Thick fog gathers around the trunks of the trees circling the clearing.

"I don't think it took us that long to get here.  It can't be this late in the day surely? Am I wrong?"

Utar looks to the pair of rangers for confirmation, then adds "I guess we better announce ourselves to whoever lives here, would anyone like to do the honours? And would they like a small blessing from Torm before they do so?"

(OOC Whoever would like to take point on this one can have the benefit of protection from evil and good against fey creatures, if they would like it.  I'd be more generous with it but it's a concentration spell.)

"Your -*ahem*-... You're not mistaken, Mr. Utar." Doozey says, breaking his silence for the first time since being incidentally stricken so by Seranolla and her apt description of his prior behavior. But as much as the stoutling still looked a touch trouble, he soon screwed his expression up into one of grim focus while continuing at a slower pace to the cottage. Just enough for the party to finalize any preparations and discussions.

"While I can't say for certain if everything we see and.. *sniff* *sniff*... sense is as they are, you'd all do well to keep in mind the possibility. After all, where stepping into the territory of being powerful, if not well connected enough to warrant being included in accords that decides the fate of an entire city." Doozey then looks back up to Utar. "And considering your part you'll probably play, better it be you benefiting from such a blessing, then any of us, as you may be the one most uniquely in position to carry our sorry arses out of here before the day is done, my friend." He flashes a toothy smirk. "Now if that be all, leave the knocking to me." He says, fully intent on following through on his words in the next few moments, if none object.

Neya, fully aware of the dangers of hags, keeps an eye out for any sort of tricks of the senses.

Perception: 21

While Utar and Doozey discuss their next steps, including some slight disagreement on who would best benefit from a temporary blessing, Neya takes a quick look around. The first things that pop in her view are mostly mundane details: firewood is stacked neatly along the wall of the cabin, smoke trickles out of the cabin's small stone chimney, a flickering light shines through the front window of the cabin.

As Doozey begins to approach the front door, he also picks up some additional but mostly mundane details. The cauldron is a simple iron cook pot filled with what appears to be a savory stew that smells quite delicious, while a well-made cloak embroidered with a delicate leaf pattern hangs on a peg near the cabin's door.

Not trusting her own eyes, Neya continues to look out for danger. Shimmering into her view, as if she was peering through a simple but well-executed illusion, Neya sees a large cage that is suspended from an iron post jutting out from the side of the cabin. Inside are two humans, both of which appear to be unharmed and look genuinely happy to see the approaching adventurers. However, they do not speak, and shush you should you be in the cusp of making too much noise. 

Following Doozey's advice, Utar gives himself a little extra magical protection, then waits for the knocking to begin.

Neya gives a quick nod in the direction of the humans, before looking around, wondering what other illusions have been weaved in this cabin.

As curious a sight as the cloak was, Doozey put it almost immediately out of mind to focus once again on the door. And without Neya's input about the caged humans, their had been little need to hesitate in his mission; except of course to take one last steadying breath. While Doozey knocks, Biscuit curiosity and hunger gets the better of him, as he'd double back to the cook pot to sit beside it and bask in the flavorable scents seeming to waft from it.

If there's no immediate answer, Doozey says first in Sylvan, and then again in common the following: "Hello? Are you in, Lady Greenteeth? A Redfoot has come seeking your council and perhaps then some, if'n you be in a mood for such?" 

Utar takes Doozey's advice and protects himself, while Denae joins Neya in looking around for other signs of magical trickery. The next thing they pick up on is the gulping sound of a still invisible fiend, who has been silent for a very long time otherwise. By now, Biscuit has found his way to the cooking pot, at least to delight himself on the delicious smells. 

Despite his focus, before Doozey can get to the door, it swings open on its own. A rather surprised looking elderly human woman stands in the doorway. "My goodness, you gave me quite a startle!" the kind-faced woman exclaims, clutching at the front of her shirt, "We certainly don’t get visitors around these parts very often. Please, sit down by the fire and warm yourselves." She wears a simple floral-print dressing gown over a clear, lacy apron. Her hair is tied back in a neat bun held in place with a foot-long bone hair pin.

(@Ori: Given that the door opened before you knocked, will Doozey still say the sentence above mentioning "Greenteeth", "Redfoot", and "council"?)

If the imp is scared, Utar silently thanks Torm form his foresight. Still it isn't enough to stop him from sitting by the fire as instructed.

So taken aback is Doozey that a hand very nearly flies for a weapon out of reflex. Nearly. But after taking the woman in for a moment, the stoutling forces his shoulders to relax and body straighten up for just an instant, only to snap into a curt bow with his hand over his heart. Seeing as she poke in common, Doozey would entreat with her turn in the same tongue, as well as follow through on his original greeting with some minute adjustments.

"Greetings. Eh... Am I, er, we to take it then that you are her Ladyship Greenteeth. I am a Redfoot seeking you council, and perhaps more, if'n you are in the mood to at least entertain such?" He asks, somewhat embarrassed at the initial slip, but then quick to recover the serious air about him. Serious and faintly suspicious. However, he consciously kept himself from trying to peer past any illusions and ignoring (for now) any odd discrepancies that might tell him more about the elder woman before him than what she may yet wish to reveal to the group. 

Biscuit ears but twitch at the exchange, so fixated was he on the stew still at the moment.

"Ms. Green," the lady of the house corrects Doozey with an agreeable smile. She then notices Utar approaching to claim a seat near the fire, so she runs back inside and, in a jiffy, comes back out balancing enough bowls and plates for everyone. "Oh, come, come... have some of the stew and the bread. I'll even bring out some pudding for dessert." She then promptly begins ladling the bowls full and distributing them throughout the group. Even and invisible Pipyap is handed a bowl. His simple trickery now proven ineffective, the little fiend drops his invisibility and looks into the bowl of stew. It doesn't take long before he tucks into it greedily. Another bowl is placed by Biscuit's paws. Denae accepts hers but simply holds it for now.

Once everyone is served, she replies further: "Oh a Redfoot! I haven't seen a Redfoot in quite a while. Well... Anyhow... I am indeed very interested in what type of council you seek from a poor old lady, but there will be time for those questions soon enough love. For now, let's eat."

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Utar accepts his bowl of stew.  Holding it in his hands the warmth of the bowl spreads to his fingers and hands and isn't unwelcome, however, trying to hold the current image of Ms. Green in his mind along with her description from others and his own experience of the hags at the inlet, Utar knows he cannot trust necessarily trust his own senses on this one and should probe deeper.  Dipping his head towards the bowl, Utar closes his eyes and inhales deeply, expecting to detect the earthy notes of a stew, maybe onions, carrots and other root vegetables or maybe some herbs like rosemary or thyme.

Perception - 14

(OOC - Using Utar's sense of smell on this one, so no advantage from his sentinel shield.)