"I am unique among my kind too. They say one's like me, are blessed by Daikitsu herself. We are, the nine-tailed heirs." She said, reverting back to her kitsune form to reveal her multiple fox tails, and fox ears. "I am more wondering, if her blessing would protect me further." She asked, considering it as an option for further knowledge.

Caleb abandoned all pretense of security upon Wren's explanation, sinking into a nearby chair. He didn't speak for a minute or two, clearly turning everything he'd just been told over and over in his head, looking for any kind of spin he could to make this news less dire.

Slowly, he raised his head and asked a question, his voice uncertain. "You said she hid herself somewhere. Does that mean that if we were to somehow find that somewhere, and figure out a way to get there, we could kill her? Rip the weed out at the root?"

"There's killing and then there's Killing", said Hester. "In a very real sense, she's already dead and beyond undead. Bristle felt her mind and her description combined with what Wren just said suggests she's something like a minor god. The trick, I guess, is to find the plane she has stolen, relink it to its parent, and allow its owner to deal with her as It wishes.  She has made enemies of several evil gods by the sound of it and the danger is in getting caught between her and them."

"Perhaps...I don't know that killing her is a concept that applies, but if you could find her core self, perhaps you could use that to do something to her. I don't know. And as I said, no one I know of knows how Halson did it before." Wren shrugs helplessly. This gesture, at least, needs no translation.

"So it's not hopeless then," Caleb said, straightening back up in his seat. "Maybe it's not a simple as just shooting her until she stops twitching, but she's not invincible," he said as he began to look around in his pack, eventually pulling out Halson's journal. "Wren, I've got Halson's journal here, and I know there's some kind of code in it but I couldn't crack it. If I left this with you, do you think you could do it?"

Bristle paused momentarily in her translations to mention an observation that had just occurred to her. "I think we may have met the vessel that allowed Whisper to start her process over again. Remember Annabelle's ghost?" Of course Firea and Voh'ren wouldn't. It was before they had joined the group. "We laid her body to rest under the memorial of the paladin of Sarenrae. The same Elias Halson's memorial stone. Annabelle was another individual who had died but not yet fully passed on from the world of the living. And she had died near or at the place of Whisper's likely demise at the hands of the paladin."

Bristle took a few moments to let all of the angles of what that could mean to sink in, but there were too many to consider all at once. Instead Bristle shook her head clear, then looked toward Wren to see if she had anything to add, and to ask her one other question. "Do you happen to have the names of any of the ones Wren had displeased? The ones she sold down the river? Particularly those who might still be alive and eager to get even with the witch? Maybe they could help us put her down once and for all." Granted, such entities would probably be risky to interact with at even the best of times...

Hester frowned.  "You mean that if we'd found somewhere else to bury Annabelle, Whisper would not have been able to escape?  Did we do this, Bristle?"

"No, I mean Whisper used Annabelle as a doorway to escape her... prison? To escape whatever Halson had done to her. I think she used Annabelle as the bridge to spread her mind-disease into our world. By the time we laid Annabelle to rest, or even laid eyes on her, it was already too late. She had spread to the village long before we had arrived."

Firea frowned a bit that her statement met with no reply, but she would leave it at that for now and revisit it later when the chance arose. For now she would let Bristle continue her line of questioning.

"Whisper seems particularly focused on punishing the people of Andoran, claiming the histories of this place are lies and propaganda," Voh'ren adds. "Whatever grudge she bears, it seems to stretch beyond Halson."

"I can probably break the code. Languages are a subject I know a good deal about. But it might take some time. As for the other - I've no idea which of the gods and demons she sold out over the years. Not specifically." Wren shrugs again.

"I, at least, would be happy to have you take a crack at cracking the code." Bristle was a bit disappointed that Wren didn't know any useful names, but was not surprised. "On the subject of books though, it seems that Whisper went through quite a lot of trouble to destroy one in particular. Do you have any idea why that may be?" Bristle then went on to explain about the book that she and Sebastian had tried to track down. The one the Whisper-puppet librarian said she had burned and thrown into the river. She also explained the line of clues that had led them to that particular book and why the two of them had thought it could have relevant information.

Caleb set the book down on the table in front of Wren and pushed it towards her. "I know you said there's not much risk that she'll... do whatever it is she does with people's heads to you, but today's shown she's not above an old fashioned murder. Do you have someplace safe you can go, or someone who can keep an eye on you?" he asked, with genuine concern in his voice.

Wren's hands flicker through quick gestures, sharp. "Places, yes, but people? I think you know enough by now to know that it's not that simple. Who can you trust when it might be the enemy behind their face at any moment?" She shakes her head, needing no translation. "No. I will hide - and if you'll forgive me, I won't tell you where, in case she gets into your heads. I have ways of getting messages out. I can set up a meeting once I've gotten some of the journal decrypted. For now...the other book is a good place to start. If it's a chronicle of the year that she last attempted to return, odds are good it says something about how it progressed. I'll look into other copies of that, as well."

"That sounds agreeable to me," Bristle said. "Is there anything specific you think we should do in the meantime? I don't exactly want to be sitting on my hands for a week or a month or whatever." Of course Bristle could come up with her own things to do, (productive or otherwise) but she figured Wren might have some useful insights as to what could be the most efficient uses of their time.

"I prey she does not try to get in my head, both for her benefit, and everyone else's." Firea said as she began to pace once more, considering things.

"Before you leave, Wren" Voh'ren says, "do you know of any way to restore the minds of those she controls? We have come across her living puppets, and I would prefer not to kill those who could be saved."

"About that," Caleb said as he made to stand. "Do you know about any ways to keep her out, other than what you've got? I saw her in a dream once, and shooting her there didn't work at all."

"Unfortunately, my knowledge is limited. I know no method for curing the infected - slowing the progression is possible with a strong will and avoidance of things that give her inroads, but rooting out the presence once it is there is beyond my talents. And keeping her out is much the same - avoiding an inroad in the first place is the only method I know of, and too late for all of us. Nor do I know with confidence whether your goddess is invested enough in your well-being for it to be a deterrence - my knowledge of the kitsune race is sadly limited. In better times I'd love to interview you about it, but such is the way of things." Wren answers each of these questions with a sad expression, a sort of weary, pained look that a mother might wear while explaining to her child that fire burns.

Caleb took the information in somberly, nodding. "Looks like the only way out is through then. Best of luck to you with translating the journal, and thanks for your help," he said, rising from his seat and moving to a window, peering out at the street below. After a few moments he pulled away and turned to face the others."I don't see anyone lurking out there, Whisper may have just given up for now. It'd probably be a good idea to stick to back alleys though, better safe than sorry."

Bristle nodded, concurring with Caleb's plan to stick to the back alleys. "Yes, we should go. Thank you for your assistance. Let us know if you find any new leads." Bristle offered a handshake goodbye. If Wren took the offered hand, Bristle figured it was a good opportunity to get one last bit of information off of the woman, just to help ensure it wasn't Whisper after all. If Wren seemed to notice, the cleric would wink and whisper, "You can never be too safe, eh?"

---

Bristle is hoping to use her Lore Keeper cleric power on Wren as she shakes the woman's hand.

quote:

Lore Keeper (Sp): You can touch a creature to learn about its abilities and weaknesses. With a successful touch attack, you gain information as if you made the appropriate Knowledge skill check with a result equal to 15 + your cleric level + your Wisdom modifier (28 total).

"All I can say about my people, is for a long time I thought I was the only one left in the area and I still may be. My parents before they died, always told me I was rare amongst our already rare people. Like, one in a thousand, or less." She said with a simple nod. "Anyway, those better times will come, and when they do, I will give you that interview."

Goodbyes are spoken. Wren collects those books that are hardest to replace, packs them up, and slips out a back door. The rest of you...well, there seems little to do for it but to go back to the inn and rest for the night while you look for leads on another copy of the Annals volume you are hunting.

Of course, sleep may not be so untroubled as one would like...though Firea can likely do something about that.

[OOC: 2 castings of Keep Watch by her and no one will need to sleep as long as they do not do anything vigorous. They can keep watch, study spells, etc, but nothing more.]

The day after their meeting with Wren, Caleb rose early, about an hour from dawn. He left a note for the others with the innkeeper, informing them he'd left to take care of some business, and that if he wasn't back by ten that night to look for him.

The streets were quiet, or relatively so, considering the riots that had been breaking out yesterday. He stuck to the back alleys with his crossbow drawn, moving quick and quiet in the hopes of avoiding anyone's attention. He made good time, and just as the first rays of light were properly appearing in the sky, he stood before Our House of the Soothing Radiance, the church where he'd left what was left of that poor librarian. Unloading the bolt and returning the crossbow to his shoulder, he made his way inside.

He stood out. How could he not, a man clearly dressed for war in a house of peace? Uncertainly, he made his way to an acolyte who looked less busy than the others, and quietly asked if he'd be willing to see if Mara Cavendish was free to see him.

After the acolyte left, he made his way to a pew apart from any other worshipers, sat down and did something he'd not sincerely done since he was a boy. In that place of peace, the soldier prayed to a god who's name had never before crossed his lips.

"I don't know if you're listening wherever you are, but I need help. There's a witch, and she's doing terrible things to people, worse than just killing them could ever be. I can't do anything to stop her with what I have. There are so many stories about gods giving people powers to fix things or destroy some evil monster, if there's any truth to them I could really do with something like that. I'm not a good man, but I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for a girl named Anabelle, and all the other people this witch is going to hurt if she's not stopped. Please, give me something. A sign, a clue about how to stop her, anything. Please..."