The old woman stayed an old woman. Davrin remained at the ready, sword and shield as they were, but didn't progress any further. Nor did he engage directly with the crone just yet. While he would have picked any number of other guides for fighting in the Fade, Spite was what he had. At least he was in a talkative mood- though, he probably always was. He just didn't get the chance to indulge in it much.

Eyes on the old woman, he spoke only to Spite. He was getting less optimistic this was something he could just stab his way through, but there was still a chance.

"Despair demon or something else?"