Oh no, that's upsetting to hear. I know that's a huge controversy, which public bathrooms to use. In Baltimore (for a long time) the most obvious trans people were hookers and occasional pole dancers. I imagine they had all sorts of struggles even if they weren't transgendered.

"Electronic music festival"... see, I heard her say this in a haughty tone. Like she can't process this, so she sounds as though she's looking down upon the concept. Maybe even inadvertently.

(If you can't tell so far, I am rather fascinated with Blood Raven)

Uh oh. What's up with Mercado?



I don't feel bad either. Like, some of our real-life press is making a huge fuss about that guy.... um... Jeffery Epstein, and how he died under police custody. Like THAT is supposed to make me get riled up, not the fact that this guy was guilty of multiple child r4pes.

I like that there's tension between Jan and BR.



Aw, she's a sweetie!



Blood Raven might ask "Who in the world had not seen a Lord Chamberlain's Men production?"

Love this.

Acadian: There will be more to that particular girl talk in chapter 4. A lot more.

That whole hands on hips is the default pose for ESO isn't it?

Blood Raven is definitely from an era of righteous justice, hand-delivered. She grew up in Boston of the 1770s. Mob violence and eventually armed rebellion were right in front of her eyes every day of her childhood. Trying to play nice for the cameras and spin opinion in the modern world are things she grapples with, sometimes quite badly. OTOH, she really knows how to chew the scenery, and create a spectacle to entrance others.

BR has some serious chops in illusion-style magic. It is kind of a necessity for her. But she does take it to a whole other level.

January has really become a way to channel my old love of comic books and superhero films, and turn them into something more modern and current. She and all her pals are a lot of fun to write about.


Renee: As we will later find out, Blood Raven is a musician herself. She learned to play the piano as a girl in Mrs. Gibson's Finishing School for Proper Young Girls. She picked up the violin later in life. A scandal, as it was something women just did not do at that time (the 1780s). In any case, she cannot wrap her brain around electronic and music.

I enjoyed the conflict between the three women in the last episode. They all definitely do not see eye to eye with one another. But they all still came together in common cause. Which I think says a lot about all three of them.

I don't think anyone is upset that Epstein died. What they are upset about is that he magically died before he could implicate the other rich and powerful men who were part of his cabal.

Lord Chamerlain's Men indeed! Now that was good entertainment!







T.S. Eliot - The Hollow Men



Book 3.12 - Stormcrow Burning

Before they could return to the parking garage, several people blocked their way. They wanted to thank Stormcrow for saving them, or their loved ones. January was dumfounded, and spent a moment smiling, shaking hands, and taking selfies with them. Then she quickly extricated herself and caught up with the other two women.

"If you are doing this for the adulation of the crowds, stop," Blood Raven declared. "It will only end badly, for you and for them."

"What was I supposed to do, bite their heads off? You know if you were a little nicer to people, they might trust you more, and maybe even help you sometime," January snapped back. Never meet your heroes, she thought. They will only disappoint you.

Blood Raven said nothing. She simply stared back at January.

"I am not doing this for fame," January sighed. "I am doing this because I know what it's like to feel helpless. I am doing this for all the people who cannot stand up for themselves alone."

"I sincerely hope that is so," Blood raven replied.

They crowded into Emilia's Jeep, and sped off into the night. Soon they pulled up to the apartment complex where he lived. His Avalanche was there in the lot. They spilled from their vehicle and made their way into his building with a crisp trot. There was still no reply to Emilia's request for a warrant. In moments they were at his door.

"Leave this to me," Blood Raven said. "I shall get the truth of matters from him."

"No!" both January and Emilia declared in unison. The state trooper continued on her own. "Arson cases are extremely difficult to prosecute. If you go barging in there you are just giving his defense attorney an opportunity to get him off."

"You speak truly. Arson cases are difficult to gain convictions for. If he is guilty, he is not likely to ever face justice for his crime." Blood Raven turned to January. "That is why I do what I do. No one else will stand for the people of this city."

"Not this time," January insisted. "I am not going to become a bloodthirsty vigilante right out of the gate. Do you see how people look at you? They might hate me because I am a lesbian, they might hate me because I am trans. But I won't have them fear me because of something I have actually done. I won't give them the satisfaction."

"They will hate you and fear you regardless," Blood Raven sighed. "But you will have to learn that for yourself, will you not? Very well, we shall wait."

They waited. January wanted to pace. But she was not going to be one of those minds that lacked discipline and resolve. She closed her eyes, and ran through her elemental exercises in her head. That slowed her heart, eased her breathing, and washed some of the tension from her body. When she finally opened her eyes, she found Blood Raven staring back at her.

Emilia's phone chimed. She swiped its screen, and her lips blossomed into a smile.

"We have the warrant," she declared. "Let me make the arrest."

She knocked on the door, and stepped to one side, so that she was not standing directly in front of it. January had seen enough movies to know that was so if Gray shot through the door, it would not hit her. January glanced back, to the apartment door across the hall from Gray's. A gunshot might miss Emilia, but it would go straight into that home.

January stepped directly in front of the door.

She felt a hum of energy. Somehow she knew it was nothing physical. It was in her head. She glanced down, and saw golden light dancing around the tips of Blood Raven's fingers. It was the same shade of light as the force field she had used to hold up the ceiling of the Flying Dutchman. Clearly, she was thinking of defense as well.

There was no answer. Emilia knocked again. This time she identified herself as the police, and announced that she had a warrant to search the premises. There was still no reply.

"There are none living within," Blood Raven declared.

Emilia prepared to force the door. January stopped her with a wave of her hand. Instead she pulled out the electric lockpick that Gadget had built for her. It worked like a charm, and she heard the clack of the bolt shooting open a moment later.

January went in first. She was not sure what to expect. She believed what Blood Raven had said about there being no one in the apartment, no one alive at least. But her recent encounters with Isaac and Archie reminded her that not everyone had a beating heart, or blood flowing through their veins.

The apartment was a mess. Socks lay discarded on the floor, along with an empty glass stained white with a coating of dried milk. Bottles of beer were stacked on the coffee table in front of the television, which showed coverage of the fire from one of the local channels. Discarded on the carpet beside it was a tire iron that was caked with dried blood and bits of curly auburn hair.

An odd shadow stretched across the floor. January followed it, to find the form of a man hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen. The table had been pushed out of the way, and a chair lay on its side beneath him. His eyes and tongue bulged, and his face was a mass of red blotches. The smell of gasoline rolled off of him, stinging January's nostrils. He was completely still, like a rag doll suspended by its neck.

January closed her eyes. After everything that had happened, she had expected some sort of dramatic closure. There would be a chase, a fight, a defiant declaration, followed by a single punch to the jaw and a wrap up to the case. But it turned out real life was not like a detective movie. Her mind went back to what her English Lit professor had said about Frankenstein. The real enemy was alienation, loneliness, and despair.

January sighed. Blood Raven picked up his phone, and waved a hand over the screen. Once again, January felt hum of power from the other heroine's fingertips. The phone immediately unlocked, and in moments she brought up a spate of texts to Amanda Paines that were alternately threatening and pleading. She handed the phone to January to see, but said nothing.

January heard Emilia call the Detroit Police, and request detectives and the coroner. The state trooper's tone was nothing but professional, but January could see the deflated look in her eyes as well. She glanced at Blood Raven. But the other woman was impassive, made of stone. She stared at the dead man, and finally spoke softly.

"Remember us - if at all - not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men"

January instantly recognized the T.S. Eliot poem. She had studied it in class of course. It certainly put words to how she felt: hollow, shapeless, colorless, a paralyzed force, a gesture without motion.

Blood Raven looked at January, but said nothing. After all, what was there to really say? She slid open the patio door and stepped outside. Then her body literally exploded into a conspiracy of ravens. Their wings were loud as thunder, and their rough voices a noisome racket on the wind. The cloud of jet-black corvids rose up into the sky like a black storm. Within moments they faded into the night, leaving no trace of Blood Raven in their wake.

"Damn," Emilia breathed. "How does she do that?"

"I don't know," January said. For a moment she forgot about all of the deaths, and just focused on the amazing transformation that she had witnessed. Now that was a mic drop! "But one day, I will."

"I am not doing this for fame," January sighed. "I am doing this because I know what it's like to feel helpless. I am doing this for all the people who cannot stand up for themselves."
- - Defend the defenseless. I wanted to cheer for January here – both for her principles and her optimism in how she responded to the more cynical Blood Raven. Yes, Blood Raven has encountered much disapproval during her long life. . . but so has January during her short life.

I liked how Blood Raven turned Emilia’s concern regarding following proper procedures lest they lose a conviction into the fact that Blood Raven’s objective was not a conviction – but justice.

You really shined here by showing each woman acting per their nature - yet toward a common goal.

What they discovered in the apartment of ‘Red Avalanche’ was anticlimactic but accomplished the objectives of all three women.

’Then her body literally exploded into a conspiracy of ravens. Their wings were loud as thunder,…’
- - What a spectacular exit! I found it very appropriate that January referred to it a mic drop – a phrase that would flow naturally from her, yet be unfamiliar to those several times her age. Like Blood Raven. Like me.


Nit: ’January followed it, to find the form of {a?} man hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen.’

Somehow I can't imagine Blood Raven listening to electronic music. I agree with Storm on this one.

Great exchange between Blood Raven and Stormcrow.

"A story for another day," In Subrosa, I trust. I'm Blood Raven will tell this story, and not pull a J.J Abrams.

'She remembered that conversation about Blood Raven around the breakfast table just a few weeks ago, the morning after her first outing as Stormcrow.'

I remember this conversation too. The one she had with her father over vigilantes taking laws into their own hands? Being from an era with less politics and more action, I'm sure Stormcrow understands Blood Raven's stance on crime, and the harsh hammer that must fall.

There is a nice contrast between the two heroes and you continue to show us as they spend more time together. Blood Raven's note of Storm's treatment of the fans was noted, just as we, once again, realize that Jan's doing this because she knows its the right thing to do. To support those that need it, and not for fame.

"They will hate you and fear you regardless. But you will have to learn that for yourself, will you not? Very well. We shall wait."
She has a point here. In a world full of hate, fear, distrust and intolerance, Jan will have to learn how to navigate through these crazy times. Being a superhero is not without a price, but one Stormcrow is indeed willing to pay for the betterment of others.

After I posted last week, I remembered Jan is an English Major. So chances are if Blood Raven retorted with "You haven't heard of Lord Chamberlain's Men" Jan would be able to 1-up the Raven. "Their company exited toward the early 1600s...." Oh, snap.

Yes, ladies were meant to play the harpsichord. The spinet. The lute (I think, maybe I'm wrong. Pretty sure I've seen some Renaissance pictures showing females playing lutes though).

Uh oh. Somebody's going to recognize January from all these selfies! Hmm maybe not. I forget if her headgear covers her face, or how much of her face it covers.

Blood Raven has Detect Life. And there she goes, as a flock of fowl.

See, they've found a body, but IS IT the arsonist? *dun dun dunnnn*

Acadian: Those last two episodes that put Jan, Emilia, and BR together were a joy to write. I was able to clearly define each character simply through their interactions, with each acting true to their natures. I was also pleased to show that you can disagree with someone, and still respect them, and work with them for a greater purpose. It just takes ethics and a commitment to something above your own ego.

I never thought of Red Avalanche as being a super name. It is a good one! Maybe I can use it for a Soviet hero from WWII. Red Storm is another good one. Red goes pretty well with anything. Except maybe urine. Red Pee would be a disturbing find.

Blood Raven's spectacular exit was of course lifted from the Prophecy movies, where Gabriel does the same thing. I guess it has always been lodged somewhere back in my brain.

Thank you for finding the nit. Even with all the extra drafts I am doing on the Crow, some still slip by.


Darkness Eternal: Blood Raven is a Classical and Jazz music fan, or the old fashion lounge singers from the 30s and 40s.

That story of what Blood Raven was chasing will take center place in chapter 4. It is just the tip of a very big iceberg that will be revealed then.

January's difficulties with navigating the modern world will be shown often, and her wrestling with the ethical conundrums that come with the age we all live in.


Renee: January would know about Lord Chamberlin's men, and of course Shakespheare. Though I don't think she likes his stuff much. The language alone is difficult to get through.

Blood Raven would have learned on the harpischord. I read that the first piano fortes were coming to America right around the time of her childhood, but she would not have had the opportunity to play one then. She prefers an actual piano these days, for the fuller, richer sound, and the way the notes reverberate for a longer time. We will later learn that in her past life (when she was actually alive), she and her husband owned a tavern. That is when she learned to play the violin, as it would have been much more to the tastes of her patrons, and a lot cheaper.

January's mask covers all of her face except her mouth and lower jaw. So she can eat or drink. So no worries about being recognized.

A lot of Blood Raven's powers are your standard vampire fare. I actually looked through my old Vampire the Masquerade books to get some ideas for things she could do with blood. We will see a spectacular one in chapter 4.

I was not really thinking that 'Red Avalanche' might be a fall guy. I wrote it a straightforward crazy ex-boyfriend turned violent piece. I could still go the way of some other mastermind behind it all. But I think I am going to stick with the original plan, because I have someone else in mind for a master villain orchestrating events from behind the scenes. He is back there already, we just do not know it yet. He won't be revealed until chapter 4. But given your idea, I did go back and try to add some more cursory evidence that Red Avalanche was the real killer.

This is one of the things I like about posting here. Feedback like this helps me immensely, because I cannot look at the story from every angle, so I miss opportunities sometimes. Having other people to point them out is a great help!





As always, the location of Emilia's house can be found on the Stormcrow Map

Macbeth Act5, Scene 5 (A Tale Told By An Idiot quote)

Counting Crows - Mr Jones

Counting Crows - A Long December

Counting Crows - Four Days





Book 3.13 - Stormcrow Burning

"So how do you deal with it?" January asked. "He tries to kill her and a hundred other people, and then he kills himself. It all just seems so pointless. Like Shakespeare said: it's a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

"Alcohol, lots of alcohol," Emilia replied. "Look, this is the hardest part of the job. The truth is when someone is dead there is no real point or reason that makes it better. Whether it's accidental, or random, or filled with passion, or cold and calculated, in the end, dead is dead. All those tomorrows lost forever."

They walked away from Gray's apartment complex. The Detroit Police had taken over the scene, leaving nothing left for them to do. The parking lot glowed with spinning red and blue lights. There were police cars, an ambulance, and the medical examiner's van. The news crews were just arriving as well.

January did not feel like being on television right now. At first it had been a thrill. But now every time a camera was pointed at her, she felt like an actor on a stage, playing a role. She was keenly aware of how people might interpret her part, or worse misinterpret it. A lifetime on the internet had taught her how quickly people were to read whatever they wanted into even the most innocuous of statements or actions. Not to mention how easily quotes and edited videos could deliberately be portrayed out of context in order to make someone look bad.

Maybe the Detroit Police were doing Blood Raven a favor, by scaring the local media away from her? Didn't that just give her carte blanche to quietly do her work in the shadows?

"Want to grab a beer?" Emilia asked.

It was late, and January was exhausted. Now that the adrenaline from the fire and the investigation had long since worn off, her body felt like lead. A weariness that soaked her bones pulled at her eyelids. She was worn out. Worse from any workout or fight she had ever took part in.

Was this a debilitating side effect of the healing Blood Raven had worked upon her? Or was it just the night finally catching up with her?

She knew that she should just go home, and pass out in her bed. But the last thing she felt like doing was sleeping. The last thing she wanted was to be alone.

"I would love to." January glanced over at the nearest news van. "But wouldn't they love to put that on TV."

"Come back to my place then," the state trooper said.

"You're on."

January followed the Puerto Rican woman to her Jeep. She was thankful for the darkness, for none of the news crews noticed them in all the hullabaloo. They sped off into the night with Jennifer Lopez playing over the speakers. January wanted to laugh. What could be more stereotypical? At least it wasn't country.

"So are they all like this?" January turned her eyes from the streets sliding by, and looked at the other woman.

"No," Emilia said. "They usually aren't so... grim, nor so quick."

"To be honest, the two of you really shouldn't have been involved. You should leave this kind of thing to the regular police." Emilia continued after a long pause. "Oh, I don't mean the fire. Disasters like that are exactly what capes like you are best at, that and fighting other metas of course. But regular police work, following up on leads and making arrests, it's better if you leave that to people like me."

"I thought we could help," January wanted to pout, but hoped that she was not doing so. "We got the type of car he had, and Blood Raven did her... whammy... to find out who the killer was."

"We would have gotten all that eventually, and it all would have held up in court," Emilia contended. "The product of meta-human power use is not admissible as evidence. Defense attorneys love seeing capes. You guys are great at punching things, not so good at legally gathering evidence, or upholding their client's civil rights."

"Well, that is why I called you," January said. "I wanted a real cop involved. One I could trust."

"Thank you," Emilia said. "That means, well, we don't always hear people say that. Please don't take this the wrong way. We need people like you out there. But there are some things that people like me still do better. Even supers with full legal empowerment - like the Sentinels over in Chicago - generally leave the actual police work to the police."

"Done," January said. "I like working with you."

"Well that made one of you," Emilia sighed.

"I think Blood Raven did too," January argued. "She may not have always agreed with you. But she did listen to you, the entire time."

"You like her don't you?"

"I grew up hearing stories about her," January shrugged. "She's as much a part of Detroit as the Tigers, or Better Made, or the Big Tire on I-94. I didn't know what to think of meeting her. She's even more larger than life than I ever could have imagined. But she's also more human than an urban legend ever could be. She's very standoffish, but also kind. She was very compassionate back at the fire. She didn't have to be. She strikes me as being very alone. Like she does not dare to show people her heart."

"But you don' t like her much, do you?" Now it was January's turn to ask.

"I didn't say that," Emilia replied.

"You didn't have to," January contended.

"Look it's hard for a police officer to like someone who's killed so many people as her," Emilia sighed. "Yes, I was in the Army. I know that sometimes you do what you have to, and it doesn't make you evil. But when a vigilante is the person of interest in so many murders, well, it's hard."

"I'm a vigilante too," January pointed out.

"But you haven't killed anyone," Emilia said.

"That might change," January said. "I hope not. But this is real life, not a comic book. No one knows what is going to happen, or what choices we might have to make. I don't think anyone has the right to so easily judge her. There but for the grace of the goddess we all go."

Emilia's place was a small, red brick house in Hazel Park. It was barely a mile from January's own house in Warren. The furniture was simple, but tasteful. There was an image of the Virgin Mary on one wall, along with prints of a sunset beach, and a brilliantly colored traditional Spanish city street. Small throw pillows on the couch were decorated with the Puerto Rican flag. There were numerous pictures of people that must have been her family all about. If so, she had been right about what she said in the hospital. She had a big family.

The entire space had a very warm, inviting, and definitely Latin feeling. January found it immensely comfortable.

January noted several cd racks near the stereo. She drifted over to look at them, while Emilia took off her badge and gun and vanished into the kitchen. January could not believe that anyone had cds anymore. Or even a stereo. There was a tuner, a cd player, even a tape deck in the stack of electronics. She wondered if Emilia had a horse and buggy back in the garage?

Emilia returned with a two bottles of beer, and offered one to January.

"You know, technically I'm not old enough to drink this," the 19-year-old noted as she accepted one of the cold bottles.

"Take a walk on the wild side chica," Emilia laughed.

January took a sip, and immediately made a face.

"You people drink this stuff?" she gagged. "It's terrible."

Emilia laughed. "It grows on you."

January set the bottle down on a coaster. She felt a little dizzy, like her head was too heavy, and moving it made the world seem to slosh around back and forth. She stared back down at the beer. Surely one sip could not have caused that?

January blinked hard, and looked away. She noticed a framed picture of Emilia and woman with soft brown skin, straightened hair, and sloe eyes. They looked very cozy together.

'Who is that?"

"That's Jennifer, my girlfriend." Emilia said proudly. "She's a teacher in Oak Park. I met her through work."

"I hope you weren't arresting her students!"

"Oh no," Emilia laughed. "For the last year I've been doing community service. I do a lot of outreach with kids, plus social media monitoring, and working with neighborhood watch programs, and other things."

"That actually sounds nice," January said.

"Yeah, before that I spent seven years on highway patrol, and two more as a detective," Emilia made a face. "It's not that bad most days. Except the times you have to peel someone off the highway, or pull the needle out of a dead addict's arm."

"That sounds gruesome," January winced. She immediately thought of the the oxygen-starved body of John Gray hanging from the ceiling.

"You learn to build a callus to it," Emilia shrugged. "Just keep calm and carry on like the Brits say."

Was she going to have to build that callus? Right now, it sounded good. But she wondered, how thick was Blood Raven's callus? Is that why she was so distant from people? Was she building up barriers on purpose to protect herself from emotional pain?

This was the problem with being a writer. It taught her to try to see every character's point of view and motivations, whether she really wanted to or not.

"You aren't going to drink that are you?" Emilia nodded to the beer, which had gone untouched since January had set it down.

"I'm sorry," January shook her head. "I guess I am just not a beer person."

"Well your waist will thank you for that," Emilia said. "I could look to see if I have any milk and cookies."

"Actually milk would be great," January said seriously. "It does a body good after all."

"Could you be any more Lawful Good?" Emilia laughed as she took the beer bottle back into the kitchen. "I suppose you ride a unicorn in your spare time?"

"That would be so dope!" January again said in all seriousness. "You know D&D though? You don't look like a gamer."

"My brother roped me into playing it a couple of times. That was back before I joined the Army." Emilia's voice floated out from the kitchen. "I thought it was kind of silly, playing make-believe with dice. I suppose you loved it right? Hey, do you like Dr Piper?"

"Do I ever!" January said loudly, so her voice would be heard in the other room. She pulled down the front of her armored tunic. She fished out her new raven banner pendant and turned on the video camouflage unit built into it. Then she tucked it back under her armor before Emilia could return.

"You like D&D, or Dr P?" Emilia returned from around the corner with a can of the latter.

"Both," January said. "Dr P better though. I never liked the magic system in D&D. You cast a spell and then forget it? Magic doesn't work like that. To be honest, D&D's more like a gateway drug. You start with it because that's all anyone has ever heard of. Then you move on to much better games, like Shadowrun or Call of Cthulhu."

"I had you pegged for a nerd," Emilia smiled. "You have that whole smart, thoughtful, social awkwardness thing going, just like my brother Eduardo. Let me guess, you played a Paladin."

"Why thank you," January said as she accepted the can of pop, which proudly announced that it was made from a blend of 33 flavors. "I was always more partial to Monks however. I have a Kenku Monk named Harmony, or just Harm for short."

"A what-ku?" Emilia did not try to hide her consternation.

"It's like a humanoid crow, but without wings," January explained.

"Of course," Emilia made a show of face-palming. "I guess I should have seen that from a mile away."

"Let me guess, you were a Fighter?" January ventured.

"Close," Emilia said, "a Ranger. Eduardo showed me pictures of this Dark Elf guy with twin scimitars, and I thought that was pretty cool."

"Drizzt!" January exclaimed. "Yeah, he made everyone want to play a Drow, myself included."

"So do you see anything you like?" Emilia nodded to the music collection that January had parked herself in front of.

January looked back over the cds. She was tempted to remark how old they all were. But even a nerd like her knew that would not be very tactful. Then her eyes glowed when they settled upon a gem.

"You have Counting Crows?" she exclaimed. "I love them!"

"I should have known!" Emilia laughed, and gestured to the crow logo emblazoned across January's armor. "I suppose you like the Black Crows too"

"No," January shook her head. "They're just a bunch of stoners making noise."

She fished out the cd and put it in the player. She cued it up to the fourth song. In a moment a guitar came strumming through the speakers, and she nodded along to the music.

"Let me guess, your favorite Counting Crows song is Mr. Jones!" Emilia laughed.

January stuck her tongue out at the older woman. "That's like the one they always played on the radio back in the day right? No, my favorite used to always be Long December."

"Isn't that kind of depressing?" Emilia asked, and took a swig from her beer.

"My friend Gadget says all their songs are depressing." January admitted. "But it always sounded hopeful to me."

"And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe,
Maybe this year will be better than the last.
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself,
To hold on to these moments as they pass."

"You said used to," Emilia noted, "so what's your favorite now?"

"This is it," January nodded to the speakers. "Four Days. It always makes me think of flying."

"Take a breath,
Take your time,
Spread your wings and rise,
Rise into the black Ohio skies."

"So what's it like, flying?" Emilia asked more seriously.

"Awesome," January said plainly. "It is pure, unadulterated awesome. When I am in the sky, everything else just falls away. All puns intended. Sometimes I feel that I could soar to Valhalla."

"If you aren't careful, you just might," Emilia pointed out."

"That's fine with me. But I'd rather to go Sessrúmnir." January said honestly. She went on when it was plain that Emilia did not know what she was talking about. "It's Freyja's hall. She and her Valkyrjur gather up the slain. She gives half to Odin, and those ones go to Valhalla. She keeps the other half in her own hall. Since she's a nice person, she even brings their loved ones back when they die too, so they all can spend the rest of eternity together."

"That is very thoughtful," Emilia nodded.

"She's a cool chick with a hot ass," January said completely deadpan. Emilia nearly sprayed a mouthful of beer all over her.

"Well, that's what I heard anyway," January winked.

"The Wedding Singer for the win," Emilia smiled. "You know, you're pretty cool too Crow. What do I even call you? Storm? Crow? Crowgirl?"

"Well I think calling me Storm might get me sued by a certain comic book company…" January whistled. "But I do kind of like Crowgirl. It has a nice feel to it."

"Crowgirl it is then," Emilia held up her beer bottle, and January clinked her Dr Piper against it.

While January was sitting there feeling chill, she remembered something important.

"Oh snap! I need to text my mom to tell her I'll be out late!"

This was simply a wonderful episode, chock full of good one-on-one girl talk! I bet you had as much fun writing it as I did reading it.

The ladies covered a lot of ground over plenty of subjects, but the big news is that Crowgirl unveiled herself to a new and trusted friend.

That Emilia has a girlfriend both simplifies and complicates things – if that makes sense. As a blossoming superheroine, January has enough new things going on in her life right now. Emilia’s friendship, trust and connection to police stuff is plenty for now.

"Video camouflage," January said. "My alignment isn't Stupid Good you know."

This was a great chapter! The exchange between the two was very insightful, and I enjoyed reading it. Jan's thoughts here showed much of what's been happening.

"January did not feel like being on television right now. At first it had been a thrill. But now every time a camera was pointed at her, she felt like an actor on a stage, playing a role. She was keenly aware of how people might interpret her part, or worse misinterpret it. A lifetime on the internet had taught her how quickly people were to read whatever they wanted into even the most innocuous of statements or actions. Not to mention how easily quotes and edited videos could deliberately be portrayed out of context in order to make someone look bad.
The power of the press, huh. Even in our own world media can be altered in a dishonest fashion to further one's agenda. The media itself can be just as powerful as any super-villain out there. She's wise to worry about this, too!

There was much insight on the the legal aspects of the follow-up of a crime, and how metas are their own thing. I'd like to believe both are very much needed and the one can't live without the other, of course.

I can see why Emilia would be distrustful of Blood Raven. When someone has that much power and was responsible for deaths, even, let's say, somewhat justifiable deaths, its still a slippery slope when it comes to morals, especially in this modern age.

The entire space had a very warm, inviting, and definitely Latin feeling. January found it immensely comfortable.
This was on point! Since half of my family is Latin in a way, I can totally agree with this!

"You people drink this stuff?" she gagged. "It's terrible."
Jan is totally a milk drinker!

I honestly thought Emilia would be a love interest. Actually, I still think she might be a love interest.

Note: I'm curious about the Sentinels in Chicago now!

Okay yes, that's good her mask covers all her face. Still, I can't help thinking maybe her eyes are distinctive enough for somebody to say "WAIT!.. I know those eyes..."



Interesting. I can see Emilia's side of the argument too, since that is exactly what defense lawyers do, look for any kind of way to cause a mistrial.

So there are capes over Chicago too! Dang, we really need a couple in Baltimore? More than a couple.




Glad we could help.

MY gosh you scared me at the end. I forgot about Gadget's pixelation software, or whatever his anti-camera doo-dad does.

Acadian: I had a ton of fun nerding out when I wrote that episode. I have not had the chance to show January's nerd half since the beginning of the chapter, when the Knights of Nerddom were around.

I know exactly what you mean about Emilia's having a girlfriend makes things simpler and more complex. On one hand it means she is off limits romantically. OTOH, someone being off limits romantically tends to make them much more romantically alluring. But Emilia is also... thirty! January would never think of dating someone so ancient. She's practically a mummy!

January is trying really hard to avoid being Stupid Good. But she won't always succeed.


Darkness Eternal: One of the things about making this a contemporary story is the way everyone has a camera in their phone, and everyone can't wait to put their video and pictures on the internet. Even just back in the 90s, the world was incredibly different. January only knows what that world was like from watching old movies and TV shows. Her entire life as been on the internet. Now she is starting to see the downsides of the "pics or it didn't happen" culture we now live in.

I googled Latin Home and Puerto Rico Home to get some ideas for how Emilia's house would look inside. I have to admit, that everything I saw looked very warm and comfortable and inviting.

January is absolutely a milk drinker!

It sounds like everyone is curious about the Sentinels since I have name-dropped them so many times. I don't really have any definite plans for them to appear just yet. They are just an example of the world that January lives in, where superheros are a reality. Being the biggest city in the Midwest, I figured Chicago would have one of the most high-profile super teams in the country, along with New York and LA. I imagine most major cities only have one or maybe two local heroes at most. Like Detroit now has Blood Raven and Stormcrow.


Renee: January is definitely not doing the Clark Kent move of "glasses will protect my secret identity" shtick. She basically has everything covered up except what she needs to see, breathe, and eat.

I do want to create a world where the police are not made obsolete by capes. I hope to eventually show an ideal situation of being one where the capes complement the police by adding some extra firepower and ability to act 'outside the box' of mundane reality. I created Emilia to serve as that touchpoint with the police, whom January can work with.

Don't forget Gadget's Video Camouflage!





Aunt Branwen

Aunt Branwen Again




Book 3.14 - Stormcrow Burning

January stifled a yawn as she rode out of Adin's dojo the next afternoon. She had not been up that late with Emilia the previous night. In fact she had left shortly after texting her mother. But sleep had not come easily when she had finally gotten home. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Gray's hanging body.

Thankfully she did not have school any more, and would not for months. But she still had to work. Many martial arts studios were closed on the weekends. Adin kept his open because most people worked during the week, so they often took advantage of weekends to practice at his studio.

At least Sundays were not too hectic. It was open mat day, with no organized classes. That allowed her to spend most of the day simply hanging back and vegetating. The few times she sparred with members of other schools she had quickly found herself staring at the ceiling with her back on the mat. Adin had quickly noted that she was not herself, and told her to go home. She was too tired to argue.

She stopped at two different apartment complexes on the way back to look them over. She was not thrilled with what she saw. So far everything was either too expensive, or too sketchy. Nothing felt right. But her mother was moving out in a few days. She had to either find her own place, or go live with her at her grandmother's in Livonia. She did not mind her grandma Sarah. But Livonia! It was practically the moon.

"This is Gilda Gadfly of Worldwide Network News, and do I have some dish for you folks today!"

Avery had given her a pair of wireless ear pods and connected them to a new radio he had installed on the Stormcycle. Now she could listen to something while she rode.

"Are you people in the Motor City tuned in? Because Detroit's latest sensation Stormcrow just teamed up with none other than Blood Raven! That's right, the black and red scourge of Detroit's criminal element - well, I could have just said scourge of Detroit right? - is actually playing nice with another cape. I can't think of the last time the scary red Raven has been willing to rub shoulders with any other super. Is it the Crowgirl's winning personality? Or do birds of a feather really flock together? I smell a super team in the making, so keep your eyes on the Detroit skies for these two blackbirds."

The gossipy reporter went on to talk about the Flying Dutchman fire from the night before. She listened briefly, then tapped on the control panel of the bike to turn it off. She had been there. She knew what had happened.

Finally she pulled up to the house, and was pleased to see that her brother's car was gone. At least there was that one small thing to be thankful for. Her father's car was still there however. Even though she had barely said two words to him in the last week, she had no desire to increase that number. The less she had to do with him, the better.

She threaded her way between the cars in the driveway and walked her bike onto the patio behind the house. She locked the Victory down to the concrete there, and pulled off her helmet. She took a moment to let her hair down from the simple braid she normally wore while riding before going inside.

Something felt strange. She could not put her finger on exactly what. It was not a wrongness, just something different. She smelled something coppery. Or did she taste it? She wondered if she was just allowing her imagination to get the best of her, or if it was just the stress of the last few days. Well, the last week really.

The last thing she expected to see was Blood Raven sitting at the kitchen table calmly drinking coffee with her mother and father.

The other heroine wasn't wearing her red and black armor of course. She was dressed normal, in a pair of jeans, a fitted top, and sweater with only the top button done up. The snarky part of January's brain wanted to remind her that 1990 was calling for its fashion back. It was not hard to ignore that part.

January also noted that her hair was different. It was styled in a short, choppy bob around her head, and was an ordinary shade of auburn. Last night it had been a literal crimson waterfall spilling down past her shoulders. Likewise, her rosy skin was now lit with warm undertones, and her eyes were the green of an Irish forest. If January did not know better, she would have sworn that this was an entirely different person. But she did know better. She did not know how she knew. She just did.

January nearly dropped both her helmet and her copy of Apartment Buyer's Guide. Apparently she covered her surprise well enough. Or at least well enough to be explained, because neither of her parents were perturbed by her reaction. Blood Raven herself simply stared back at her, face a mask.

"Look who's here honey," her mother put on a smile that even January knew was forced. "It's your aunt Branwen."

"She has not come to visit in a long time," her father said. January's heart doubled a beat at the sound of his voice. It instantly brought back memories of that same voice the week before, extolling the litany of her failures as a human being. "Not since, what, fifteen or sixteen years."

"Not since you were three," 'Branwen' stared at January from over the rim of her coffee cup. "Certainly, your countenance has changed much since then."

"That's funny, I don't remember you at all." Now that the shock was wearing off, January felt her hackles begin to rise. How dare she come here! She might be new to the cape life, but she knew this was completely out of bounds. Her fingers curled into a fist, and she did not try very hard to uncurl them.

"You were too young then," her mother said. She nodded for January to come to the table. One of the family photo albums was laid out there with its pages open. She looked down to see a picture of herself - barely a toddler - sitting on "Branwen's" knee. Next to it was another of her and her brother practically buried under Christmas wrappings on the living room floor, with "Branwen" laughing in the background with her parents.

January stared dumbfounded. Now her fingers did relax of their own accord. Jedi mind tricks were one thing. But these photos were real. They were her, and her entire family, right there with Blood Raven herself. Only clearly no one else knew who she really was. Just as they did not know that she was Stormcrow.

"I swear, you haven't aged a day since then Branwen," January heard her mother say. Her voice seemed far away, as if it was coming from the moon instead of right beside her.

"The advantages of eating healthy and living a clean life," "Branwen" responded. "But look at you too Barbara, you are as young as ever as well."

Her mother blushed, and January stared back down at the pictures. Her mother had been right. "Branwen" had not aged a day since those pictures had been taken, what sixteen years ago? Was that the advantages of superpowers, or something else?

"So where have you been all this time, aunt Branwen?" January set her pink motorcycle helmet down upon the kitchen counter. She tried to keep her voice cool, and suppress the sarcasm that wanted to rise from her throat.

"Traveling, writing, working," Blood Raven said. "I allowed myself to fall out of touch. But I am glad I reached out again. Aren't you?"

"What made you decide to come by again, today of all days?" her father asked. He was clearly trying to put on a polite face. But January was certain he would rather be anywhere than entertaining a guest with his estranged wife and child.

"The fire last night," Blood Raven said smoothly. "It reminded me how fleeting life is. How quickly it slips by us, and before we know, it is gone. It looks like I was just in time."

"Since we're moving out?" January lobbed that out like an artillery shell. She was rewarded with a squirm from her father. But her heart sank when an equally uncomfortable look darkened her mother's face.

"Yes," Blood Raven said, holding January's gaze. "I would hate to have missed you. The world can move so fast sometimes. It seems only yesterday that I watched you learning to walk. Now look at you. So much has changed. I wish I had been here for it."

"Yes, a great deal has, changed," her father noted sourly, and shot a dark look at January.

"Her transition?" Blood Raven said. "How very extraordinary. I applaud you, January. Did you know that at one time almost every culture in the world believed gay and transgender people had special powers? They were always held among the greatest of magicians and holy people."

"They were the Enarees of the Scythians, the Semnotatoi who served Hecate, the Galli of Cybele. The list goes on and on, from Europe, across Siberia, to here in the Americas. One of my colleagues likes to say that you could not swing a goddess by the tail in the old days without hitting one of her transgender priestesses. You follow a long and noble tradition."

Her father rolled his eyes, but her mother looked pleased to hear that.

"Did you know that your aunt is a writer?" she said. "You know, January is going to be a writer as well."

"You're Branwen Renner!" The realization blossomed within her like an exploding star. This time January could not contain her stare of amazement. "I have some of your books, like An Introduction to Wicca."

"What did you think of it?" Blood Raven continued to lock her gaze upon January.

"It helped me learn to find my power," January gave back her stare.

"Good," Blood Raven smiled. "Very good. I can send you more of my books. Perhaps you can show me some of your own writing as well? Are you interested in non-fiction, like your father? Or fiction?"

"Fiction," January felt her ears start to burn, as they always did whenever someone started asking about her writing. "Fantasy, swords and sorcery, that kind of thing."

"Like Tolkien," Blood Raven smiled and leaned forward. "I very much enjoyed his writing. It would have been nice to have seen a few more female characters in it however, in more active roles."

"Eowyn did kill the Witch King," January's mother pointed out.

"Yes, something 'no man' could do," Blood Raven noted. "I thought that was rather clever on his part, and revolutionary, given the times."

"But now I am afraid I have a plane to catch," "Branwen" pulled out her phone. "I had best call for my Cyber-Cab, they can get backed up sometimes."

January had to fight down a secret smile. Cyber-Cab had started the day after she had talked Isaac down from going on a robot rampage through the city. Now he was making his mark on the world in a much more positive way

"That new company with the fully robotic cars?" January's father scoffed, "you're braver than I thought."

"They may have started just a few days ago, but they drive just fine," 'Branwen' insisted. "They do not engage one with inane chatter, nor engender uncomfortable silences without it."

"And I suppose you do not have to wonder if you are supposed to tip them or not," January's mother added. Then she turned to January. "But January can take you. It will give you two more time to catch up."

"That would be wonderful." 'Branwen' put her phone away and smiled. "I understand you posses a motorcycle."

January opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. No, this would be ideal. She wanted answers, to questions she could not voice with her parents around.

"Let me get you a helmet." January darted up the stairs to her bedroom, and dug through her closet for her spare helmet. It was not the old Bell helmet she had originally used. She had given that back to Avery. This was a half-helmet, with a faded metallic red surface. Unlike her full-faced helmet, it was not all scratched up. It had cost just as much on Ebuy however.

She came back down to find her new 'aunt' waiting by the door. After a few hugs, plainly forced on her father's part, she led January out the back door. She did not say a word as she pulled the half helmet over her head, and January did likewise with her own, full-faced helmet. She slipped onto the back of the bike a moment after January.

Her arms slid around January's waist. She instantly tasted blood in her mouth, and smelled it in her nostrils. By now January was not surprised. After what she had seen of Blood Raven's ability to control blood last night, it was clear that her name was not accidental.

She sped off without a word, and took them around the block. Then she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"So where are we really going, Auntie Branwen," this time January did not try to conceal the sarcasm from her voice.

"You are right, I am not really your aunt," Blood Raven said. "But my blood does flow through your veins. I smelled it when you were in Hart Plaza. Later at the Flying Dutchman there was no mistaking it. You are one of my descendants."

"How can that be?" January could not hide the skepticism from her voice. "Are you trying to say that you're my mother?"

"Many more generations removed than that," Blood Raven said. "Let us be off, to a place we might speak in private. All will be made clear then."

By Azura! I think I would have nearly dropped my helmet as well. What an intriguing and unexpected surprise. So Blood Raven is blood kin and has had her eye on Jan for her whole life.

It also helps explain the abilities that Jan is just beginning to discover.

Despite the surprise, I’m sure Jan quite appreciated Aunt Ann’s support and encouragement of her transition.

Good to hear about Isaac's success with Cyber-Cab - a welcome little follow up.

Wow, so Jan shares blood, bewitching abilities and a love of writing with Blood Raven. This raises loads of possibilities and I look forward to learning more about this.

The Sentinels being mentioned plenty of times does make for great world-building.

Stormcrow and Blood Raven are the quite the popular news lately!

Is it the Crowgirl's winning personality? Or do birds of a feather really flock together? I smell a super team in the making, so keep your eyes on the Detroit skies for these two corvids."


It was great seeing Blood Raven out of her super outfit and into jeans and sweater with a new makeover. Its fascinating to see how easy she can transform herself and look like a completely different person with her other identity. Aunt Ann . . . wow!

The advantages of eating healthy and living a clean life,"
This was too funny.

Blood Raven's comment praising Jan's changes and the some of the cultural beliefs surrounding it was a nice verbal slap-in-the-face to Jan's father. And how fitting that Blood Raven/Ann somehow helped contribute to Jan's progression with one of her books! She's more involved in Jan's life than every before now.

They are related then by blood, even if its distant. This is great on so many levels and offer several implications that I'm eager to find out.

This is what makes me glad to have grown up in the era we did. We got to see all that technology evolve to where it is now. Personally I am somewhat of a Luddite. Typing on this laptop and having two desktop computers at home are as far as I want to go with tech. But for my daughter for instance, smartphones and constant referrals to the Internet and are what she knows. And for any sibling(s) she'll possibly have, brain implants (or whatever tech is next) which make human into virtual robots will be all her kids know. Then she'll be the Luddite, looking back fondly on those days when "we all held that technology in our hands. It wasn't implanted into our heads. We had to actually TYPE messages back and forth!"

Sorry.

That is something to note: a superhero having trouble finding a place to live because she's broke, and her family's in tatters.

The radio DJ sounds like Three Dog (in my head).

Whoa. Blood Raven is over for coffee. And she's dressed like a prep. ... they're related? [censored]. I have to read that part over again. I am stunned.



I was already wondering this... if Blood Raven / Ann ages at all, especially if you're hinting she's from some other century.

Hee hee "Ebuy".... that's clever.

Well good. Saturday is coming fast, what in the heck is coming? I'll be waiting for you to drop that next chapter, hon.

Acadian: Jan has a lot in common with Blood Raven, which was intended by me. They are magicians. They are imaginative. They are artistic (if you consider writing art, which I do), they are not content to just sit back and let the world turn: they both feel the need to step in and steer it to a better course. Naturally Jan is her own person, and has a lot of differences from her ancestor. Being trans, being lesbian, being born in a different age, with a different set of values. These are differences we will see Blood Raven encourage Jan to embrace. Because she definitely does not want Jan to be just like her.

Cyber-Cab was something I threw in during the editing process. I wanted to touch back on Isaac for a moment, and subtly show that he was indeed making both physical and emotional progress. We will eventually see him back in the story, but it will be a while.


Darkness Eternal: I really should try to include some mentions of supers in other places. I have gotten some mentions of Heisenberg in, but none lately. Plus a few name-drops from old time metas like Panzer and Hailstorm. But that is it.

Blood Raven does live a really healthy lifestyle: She does not drink... wine, does not smoke, does not use drugs, does not sunbathe, has no gluten in her diet, or meat, or vegetables, or water. Just that nourishing blood...

Blood Raven has been around for a very long time, and seen all sorts of people. Enough to challenge her rather (literal) puritanical upbringing. Plus, like Jan, she is willful. She won't be told what to think or feel.

Jan's blood relation to Blood Raven will be a central part of both their stories. Their blood is a gift, and a curse they cannot escape.


Renee: I am somewhat of a Luddite too. Though it is not just from old person stubborness. I think having grown up in the time I did, and been without a lot of instant gratification tech, has taught me I don't need most of this stuff. Like digital assistants on my phone, or an alexa in my house. I can go to a website and order things. I am not so lazy that I have to use a voice command for a robot that is always listening to everything I say.

But more importantly, I can see how the increasing mechanization of life has simply not made us happier, but the opposite. The internet is a great source of information, and a great way for vile individuals to sow blatant lies in order to further their hateful agendas. Social networks are great for bringing people together, and an even greater way for terrorists to recruit more murderers, for hostile foreign powers to push their propaganda, and for dictators to sow genocide. The modern fascist movement in America could not exist without the internet. That is where they recruit all their mass shooters.

Jan's struggles with everyday life are in part inspired by the Batgirl comics of the last decade or so. In them the Black Canary's house burns down, and she ends up couch-surfing at Batgirl's. Then later Batgirl gets kicked out of her apartment, and ends up couch-surfing herself. I like these little touches that show that just because you have a cape, it does not mean you are exempt from real life.

The DJ Gilda Gadfly was inspired by a similar character in the new Batwoman TV show - Vesper Fairchild. They use little blurbs of Vesper talking to show how people in the city are thinking about what is going on. I am going to try to use Gilda the same way. She can be a way I can show how Stormcrow memes are trending or not, and what the masses are thinking about Crow and Company. I can also use it to simply fill in little blanks of information that I had no other way to convey.

I based Blood Raven's civilian look on what I remembered people in the 90s wearing in offices. So not grundge, but the upper-middle classish types. She might be getting a fashion makeover from Jan and her mom in the future though.




The Witch House can be found on the Stormcrow Google Map

The Witch House

Tunguska

Johannes Kelpius

William Butler

Jack Parsons

Selene - Moon Goddess

Hekate





Book 3.15 - Stormcrow Burning

Blood Raven directed January to Van Dyke, which they took north. In time they passed the border of Warren, and into Sterling Heights. Big box stores and a movie theater passed by on their right. One giant automotive factory after the next took up the entire landscape to their left. Eventually they ran out of factories, and stayed to the left on Van Dyke when a freeway split off from it and headed north parallel to the surface street, with roughly a quarter mile of small businesses and residences between the two. They were nearly out of Sterling Heights when Blood Raven finally prompted January to turn.

They made a right onto Utica Road, which ran at an angle back to the south-east. Several old suburban streets passed by on her right, and then an apartment complex. To her left was a line of newer, and larger, houses set far back from the road. January saw the freeway crossing over the street ahead of her on a bridge. But before they could reach it they turned left, and rode one of the long driveways back to a house set within a small island of trees.

The home was built in the Queen Anne style, like a classic haunted house from the 1800s. It was a jumble of smooth corners, sharp peaks, and jutting bay windows. The wood looked strong and solid, showing no sign of wear or aging. It was painted a soft shade of blue-gray, and sported several red brick chimneys that rose up from the steeply-pitched roof.

A covered porch ran the length of the front face of the building. The first two floors seemed to follow the same plan, with rounded bay windows facing forward, and a turret bulging out beside the driveway. A rounded tower jutted up to a third story from the top of the turret. Steep gabled windows braced the roof to either side of the tower. Finally, a single dormer peeked out from the center of the roof, facing the street.

Blood Raven led her up the covered porch to the door in the front corner of the house. She fished a set of keys out of one pocket, and clicked one of the doors open. She led the way within, and turned to look back at January.

They stood within an entryway that was flanked by doors to either side. But Blood Raven led her even deeper into the house, into an octagonal rotunda that was open through the second floor above. A staircase curled up one side of the space, and another opening led to more of the house on the far side of the room.

The interior of the house was bare, completely bare. There was no furniture at all, at least not in the two rooms she had seen. There were no rugs on the hardwood floor, no pictures on the oak walls, nothing. She did notice a light switch, and a fixture in the ceiling. So at least that was something.

"What is this place?" January wondered. She flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. Apparently Blood Raven had not been paying the bills. Given the dust on the floor, it was really no surprise.

"My friend Keziah built it," Blood Raven said. For a moment her eyes seemed to stare beyond January, as if looking back through the years. "She left it to me after she moved on."

"Oh, I'm sorry," January said by reflex. "I didn't know that she..."

"Oh, Keziah Talmadge is not dead!" Blood Raven laughed. "She has moved on, to new realms."

"Keziah is a rather odd name," January observed.

"It was not so when she was born," Blood Raven insisted, "nor when I was for that matter."

"When was that, the American Revolution?" January said under her breath, taking in the antique building that surrounded her.

"Yes," Blood Raven's voice brought her back. "I was twelve when General Gage's men marched on Lexington and Concord. Keziah was a least a century old by then, perhaps more."

"And I wasn't born yesterday," January insisted. She put her hands on her hips in defiance.

"Of course not," Blood Raven said. "You were born on Friday, August 13th, 1999. I was there."

The red-haired woman raised her hands into the air, and those golden Celtic symbols sprang up in a circle around her. Again, she murmured in Gaelic, and closed her eyes as the triquetras and triskelions wove their way around her.

She reached out with both hands together, and January felt power dance through her fingers. She drew her hands to either side, like she was unrolling a scroll. January felt that power linger in the space behind her hands. It caused the wall of the house to disappear from view, and replaced it with another image. It was like Blood Raven had created a television screen in mid air.

Within this magical screen, January saw a darkened chamber of marble. With another flick of Blood Raven's finger, several lights glowed to life within the room that they were remotely viewing. They illuminated a towering stretch of dark marble wall. Written up and down it in elegant golden calligraphy were several trees of names, like waterfalls that spilled down the marble. January quickly realized that they were family trees. She saw her old name - August - and that of her brother Julian at the bottom of the longest tree.

"I will have to change the name," Blood Raven remarked.

January followed the tree up from her and her brother. There were her parents, and then grandparents. Beyond them the names became unrecognizable. She could not remember any of her great-grandparents. They had all died long before she was born.

The river of names went back and back. They forked off into different directions. Some ended abruptly. Other lines petered out only after multiple generations. Her line went back to Anne Hopkins, née Scanlan, and Experience Hopkins. Above them she made out the name Saiorse Scanlan, but she could not see who she was married to. The portal ended just before his name.

"That is I, Anne," Blood Raven declared. "I was born in 1763."

"How could you be alive after all these years?" January narrowed her eyebrows in distrust.

"I never said I was alive," Blood Raven murmured. She pointed to her name, to the date of her death, in 1793. It was the same year her husband Experience was listed as dying in.

"Metas did not exist back then," January insisted. "It wasn't until the early 20th Century that they first came along."

"Not until Tunguska," Blood Raven said. "I know."

"Before there were meta-humans, there was magic," Blood Raven explained. "There has always been magic. There always will be. An ancient magic came out of the centuries and engulfed my family. It took my husband. It took me as well, after a fashion. It was only with the aid of Keziah that we defeated it."

With that the warmth melted away from Blood Raven's skin, which turned bone white. Her hair lengthened, and cascaded down into a great mane of blood red crimson. Her eyes glowed scarlet. They literally glowed. With one bony finger she swept her hair back from her neck, and revealed a set of horrific scars there. They were not neat and straight, like the cuts on January's wrists. Rather the wounds were rough and jagged, as if the claws of a terrible beast had torn her throat out.

"You're a vampire!" January gasped.

Blood Raven smiled, revealing fangs between her red lips.

"That is a word best left unspoken," she cautioned. "Refer to us as Selene's Heirs if you must. We have done much to convince the world that we do not exist. The rise of meta-humans has given us an opportunity to blend into their ranks, and insipid sparkly fiction has made the very idea of us the subject of ridicule. But there are still those among us who remember the Burning Times. They can be very zealous in maintaining our secrecy."

January nodded. Her head swam with questions. Could she go out in sunlight? Well duh, it was the middle of the day after all. Did crosses and holy water repel her? Did garlic? How often did she have to suck blood? Did she even do that, or was it something more subtle, or exotic? What about wooden stakes? If she threw rice down, would Blood Raven be compelled to count every single grain?

Suddenly January realized that she was reacting exactly like everyone else did when they found out that she was trans. With a bunch of questions about how she was an Other, rather than a person. They acted like she was some sideshow attraction to be gaped at though the safety of the iron bars. She was not going to behave that way, never. Blood Raven was a person. She was going to treat her like that, above all else.

"Selene's Heirs?" now that was something that January felt was appropriate to ask about.

"Selene was one of the moon goddesses of the Greeks," Blood Raven replied. "Legend says that she is the mother of all of us."

"Of course I am a magician as well." Blood Raven's hair shrank back to its slightly messy bob and faded into a mundane shade of auburn, while her skin took on a warm, lively hue. The scar disappeared, as did the glow from her now ordinary green eyes. "It is said that a different moon goddess - Hekate - gave the world the gift of magic. It goes hand in hand with Selene's legacy. Of course since Tunguska, all magic has grown so much more potent, as if the goddesses have awoken from a long slumber."

"Hekate's Gift has always been strong in our family." Blood Raven turned back to the family tree displayed through the magical window. She pointed to her mother Saoirse, and followed her ancestors back generation after generation, until she stopped upon William Butler. January noted that his birth year was listed as 1534, and his death in 1617. "William was an alchemist and necromancer, from Clare County, Ireland. You will find many other alchemists and mystics within our tree as well."

"It was what brought the vampire Kelpius to our family in the first place," Blood Raven explained. "He wanted to learn my father's magic, to master it, and with it all the Creatures of the Abyss."

"Who was your father?" January wondered, "and what are the Creatures of the Abyss?"

"They are the Creatures of the Abyss, things best left to the darkness, lest they rise up and engulf you," Blood Raven said cryptically. "I have learned the hard way to watch over my descendants, lest another shadow rise up from out of the ages to take them. I have been lax of late. I have allowed myself to lose track of time. It is a hazard for those like me."

"But my eye is fixed upon my bloodline once more. None of my progeny since your great-grandfather Jack has taken up magic." She now pointed to a much nearer part of the family tree, to her father's grandfather, whose name was listed there as Marvel Whiteside Parsons. "Jack was strong in magic, but he lacked discipline. He was not willing to put in the hard work and mental exercise needed to fully control it. He opened doors best left shut, and paid for it dearly."

"I can see that you are already far more powerful than Jack ever was." Blood Raven now set her eyes upon January.

"You mean it's magic that my powers come from?" January stared down at her hands, and curled her fingers into fists, then opened them again. It was like she was seeing them for the first time, seeing herself for the first time. Of course! That explained so much.

"Naturally," Blood Raven insisted. "Everyone has magical potential. But few people actually unlock it within themselves. Clearly you have."

"How do people unlock it?" January wondered.

"When they stop being sheep led by a shepherd," Blood Raven declared. "When they believe in themselves, in spite of how hard the world tries to tell them they are insignificant. When they believe they possess real agency. When they know they can change the world."

"That is when I transitioned," January mused. "But I don't go around casting spells like Gandalf."

"Gandalf did not actually cast many spells either," Blood Raven murmured. "Think back to that time. Were you thinking about spellcraft? Or were you thinking about physical action? I would say the latter, as your gifts are clearly in that realm. That is where you unconsciously channeled your magical power as you developed it. That is the most powerful form of training. Your forebrain never got in the way with doubts or distractions. You dedicated yourself to an ideal, and your will made it reality."

"After I rehabbed for my hand, I transitioned," January mused. "I went back to school. The bullies were... Well it made me yearn for the joy of rehabilitating my severed tendons. After I came home with a black eye and split lip my mother taught me kick boxing - Karate. I fought back. I beat them, three of them, at once."

"That is when you embraced your power," Blood Raven said. "Continue working with your talents. The more you exercise them, the stronger they will grow. I can teach you spellcraft as well of course. There is no reason you cannot learn it, even if your primary focus is physical."

"I've learned so much already from your book," January thought aloud, "about raising energy, about visualizing a clear goal, about focusing my will."

"All magic comes down to these things," Blood Raven nodded. "I am glad it has been helpful. I am always glad when one of my books improves someone's life. That is why I write them after all."

"It seems so strange that you're a superhero, and you are writing books on Wicca," January shook her head.

"Why should that be unusual?" Blood Raven countered. "I have to make a living, the same as any other cape, the same as any other magician. Writing books not only aids me financially, but it also helps me complete a legal identity through which to navigate the world. I have a clear income, I pay taxes, and so on. For someone like me, the difficulty of managing an earthly identity increases every century."

"Is that why you lost track of us?" January wondered what it was like to be over two hundred years old. How many times had Blood Raven been forced to move, and change her name, her life?

"It was one reason," Blood Raven nodded. "The years can fall by the wayside so quickly at times. For someone like me, it is easy for them to slip through our fingers, like trying to hold on to a flowing stream. I often have to remind myself to stop and pay attention to what is happening right now, rather than lose myself in the years."

"That brings me back to the Witch House." Blood Raven raised her hands to indicate the home around them. "Technically I own it. But I have rarely dwelled here. I prefer to remain in the heart of the city."

"Perhaps you and your mother should like to make your abodes here instead?"

Fascinating! Most everything Blood Raven revealed quite fit the clues to date. I must admit the vampirism was a surprise. In looking back though, the clues were indeed there (Duh! BLOOD Raven practicing BLOOD magic).

’Suddenly January realized that she was reacting exactly like everyone else did when they found out that she was trans. With a bunch of questions about how she was an Other, rather than a person. Like she was some sideshow attraction to be gaped at though the safety of the iron bars. She was not going to behave that way. Never. Blood Raven was a person. She was going to treat her like that, above all else.’
- - It was wonderful to see Jan battle her prejudices and use her own life experience as she vowed to keep her mind open. I'm sure her natural curiousity about the challenges of living as a vampire will be revealed to her as she spends time with Blood Raven.

My goodness, the tales I bet Branwen/Ann/Blood Raven can tell!

And, of course, this all explains Blood Raven’s interest in not only Jan but her entire family.

Finally, where Jan and her mother should live may have just been solved.

Wonderful stuff, SubRosa!


Nits:
’The{n} she pulled them apart, as one might slide open a pair of windows, …’
"Selene was one of the moon goddesses of the Greeks," Blood r{R}aven replied.’

Hmm, I wonder why she's being brought to this gigantic, empty house? Maybe since Jan needs a place to live...

Blood Raven can open up other realities with her bare hands. Ancestry.com? Hah.



Yikes.

I love that she's maintaining a modern presence by paying taxes and writing books. I wonder if Jan and her mother will actually move there.

Edit: and I love that name Marvel. And also Experience. I didn't know Experience could be a name.

Acadian: I deliberately left a lot of breadcrumbs to follow back to Blood Raven being a vampire. I am glad they were not too blatant, but still stood out once you looked back. I was going for that "oh, of course!" moment. We will slowly learn more about what being a vampire means for Blood Raven. She has two scenes told from her point of view in chapter 5, which should shed a lot of illumination.

Naturally I started out with Blood Raven's past being mostly a blank slate, with only a few key events filled in. I have been able to fill in a lot of those blanks as I have written her. Now I know everything from 1940 to the present, and everything from her birth to about 1820 or so. Plus where she was from 1862 - 1865. The rest of the 19th Century is still wide open, as is the early 20th Century.

Thanks for those nits. Both were late additions, so did not get my usual fine tooth treatment.


Renee: It is not that Blood Raven can create gateways. It is just a simple clairvoyance/remote viewing. I went back and rewrote that part, to try to make that more clear. Keziah is the one who could teleport and create gateways to alternate realities. We will see more about that this chapter, as the Witch House is where the learned.

I imagine that blending into the modern world becomes more and more difficult the older an immortal becomes. Many of the older ones probably withdraw and become recluses, like Howard Hughes, or completely shut themselves off from society. Blood Raven is not that old yet. She still tries to be part of the world, in spite of how difficult it can be. That means having a legal identity, paying taxes, and so on. I went with writing because it is a job with flexible hours. That leaves plenty of opportunities to go out superheroing at all hours of the day or night. She writes about Witchcraft simply because as a real magician, that is what she knows. It is also a way for her to have a positive impact on the world.

Marvel is of course Jack Parson's real name. He was a fascinating person - rocket scientist, founder of the JPL, and magician. He was a perfect ancestor for January, and descendant of Blood Raven.

If you go back to the 16th and 17th century you will find a lot of wild names, especially among the Puritans in New England. They love Biblical names, like Judah, or Ezekiel. They also liked to name people after virtues, like Prudence, Faith, the aforementioned Experience, and so on. I looked up a bunch of sites like this one to find Experience and Keziah. Although Keziah is also the villain in HP Lovecraft's story Dreams in the Witch House. I ultimately went with her name as a deliberate subversion of the evil, devil-worshiping Witch she is portrayed as by Lovecraft.






The Witch House can be found on the Stormcrow Map

The Witch House

The Witch House Overhead View

Tunguska Event

Trail of Cthulhu



Book 4.1 - Pride

May 27th - June 1st, 2019

"Well, at least we didn't have to borrow your uncle Jerome's van again." January picked up the pieces of her bed and walked to the back of the U-Haul with them. Once she was in danger of being seen, she let them drop down into both of her hands, and pretended to be struggling with the weight, while Avery lifted the other end. In actuality, she was still taking all of the load herself. But they had to put on a good show for her mother.

January wished there could have been some way for her to talk her mother into doing something else while they moved. Then she could have done all the heavy lifting herself, in just a few minutes. Now she had to make it look hard, and pretend to be winded by the effort.

"Yeah, it would have taken three or four more trips with the van," Avery noted. "At least we got it all with one trip."

January glanced over at her mother's Mini, which was likewise packed to the brim, along with Avery's Geo. When she added in her Victory, the trio of vehicles did not even come close to the cargo space of the truck her mother had rented for the day. They were lucky to find a rental place open on Memorial Day. But at least neither of them had school or work to worry about.

Her eyes lingered over the brightly-painted mural on the side of the truck. Jane Jet, an old hero from the 70s and 80s, was emblazoned there. She wore her trademark goggles and jetpack, and flew over the L.A. skyline with a grin. January wondered how many people realized that Jane was a gay icon? She had never been Out. But it had never really been a secret either. Every gay person knew it, and every straight person pretended it wasn't true.

"Wow, are you like, moving in here?"

January and Avery both turned to the author of the voice. He was a man aged somewhere between thirty and fifty. His straight brown hair fell down to his shoulders, and his eyes were liquid blue. He was short, but made up for his lack of height with extra width. He was not fat, so much as thick. January instantly pegged him as a Mountain Dwarf, and felt a surge of kinship for him. After all her Shadowrun character Dora the Kneecapper was a Dwarven physical adept.

He wore a plain blue shirt and ragged jeans. A pencil was clutched, almost defensively, in one of his hands. His eyes were wide with amazement. Like a child seeing Star Wars for the first time.

"Yes," January's mother said from the porch. The Dwarf nearly leaped out of his skin, and barely held onto his pencil. "My sister-in-law is letting us stay."

"Hi, I'm Barbara, that's my daughter January, and her bestie Avery. They're sort of a dynamic duo." January had to fight to keep a straight face at the latter description. If she only knew the truth about Stormcrow and Gadget!

Her mother walked down to the man while January and Avery pretended to groan under the weight of the bed frame. She offered the neighbor her hand, but he backed away nervously.

"Oh I can't do that," he said. "I don't do that. It's too messy, with all the souls, and not souls, and things. It gets too messy. Oh, I'm Chase. I always forget that."

"You forget that your Chase?" Avery laughed.

"I forget my shoes sometimes," Chase said. "I forget to take my vitamins. Sometimes I forget my name. But I never forget to love life, even when I hate it. Especially when I hate it."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around these days," January frowned. She was starting to wonder if Chase was supposed to be taking medication, and had forgotten that as well?

"That's why it's important to remember what you don't want to forget," Chase said. "What was I saying again? Oh, you're actually moving in here?"

"Yes, we actually are," January's mother smiled as she headed for the back of the U-Haul. "Why do you seem so surprised?"

"Well, you know about the house don't you?"

January and Avery missed most of what came next, as they carried the bed frame inside the house. Once out of sight January took all the pieces and easily vaulted up the stairs with them to the second floor. She laid them out on the floor, and was back out on the lawn as Chase was wrapping up his tale.

"They say the last time the house disappeared was over a hundred years ago," Chase explained. "Back in 1908. Some people said it was because of the Tunguska comet. But I checked when I was fourteen. It disappeared the night before."

"Well there is a time difference between here and Siberia," Avery noted. He pulled out his phone and typed for a moment. "Let's see, the Tunguska Event took place the morning of June 30th, at 7:17 their time. That means it would have been, oh, 7:17 pm on June the 29th here in Michigan."

Chase's face fell. January had the distinct impression that was exactly the wrong thing to say. He glanced up at the house, then turned and fled back through the trees to the house next door.

"Well that went admirably," January's mother smiled.

"What did I say?" Avery rubbed the back of his head in consternation.

"He was telling me that this is 'The Witch House', that's all capitalized by the way," January's mother explained. "He said it was here before 'The White Man' came - all caps as well - and that sometimes it disappears, then reappears days, or even months later. He said no one has lived here in over fifty years."

"Houses don't normally disappear," Avery noted. "Not normally."

"Well, Aunt Branwen did tell me it was built by a Witch," January noted. She took one side of a dresser, while her mother hefted the other. She had to pretend that she was straining under the weight. "But you know how superstition is. If a house sits empty for a while, it's automatically haunted."

"I don't suppose anyone has any pictures of the empty lot," Avery mused as he took the other end of the dresser from January's mother. That allowed January to stop pretending and take all of the weight. "At least any that aren't all out of focus and shaking around."

"Like every Bigfoot and Nessie video," January's mother chimed in.

The sound of a car pulling up the long driveway from the street brought January's head around. It was a rusty Ford Explorer, older than she was. January immediately recognized it as the Kell-Mech. She was still surprised to see Blackjack, Rus, Ryo, and of course its owner Kell come spilling out of its spacious interior.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that the guys were coming out to help," Avery grinned. "How could that have slipped my mind?"

"It must have been when you were too busy being the best best-friend ever," January restrained herself from hugging the taller black man. She raised a hand to wave at the newcomers, and felt the dresser tip precariously in her other hand. She adjusted, and waved anyway. It was just a dresser after all, not an I-beam. Not that an I-beam would have been difficult to lift either.

"Did we miss all the heavy lifting?" Blackjack cried. "I really hope we missed all the heavy parts."

It turned out that they had not after all, missed all the heavy parts. Where just a few minutes before January had been wishing she had been alone to do all the work, now she found that she was glad for the company. The moving may have taken longer, but it was much more enjoyable.

In time the U-haul was empty. "We can drop it off tomorrow," her mother sighed when the work was done. "It's paid up until then anyhow. Now who's thirsty?"

Thirst was quenched with warm Fae Cola and Dr Piper, followed by truly magnificent pizza from a local pizzeria on Van Dyke, on the far side the apartment complex that rose up across the street. Since the night was still young, the guys immediately broke out their gaming books, and Rus walked January through creating a new character for Trail of Cthulhu. She had not gamed in so long. It seemed so trivial compared to all of life's other pressing needs. But she had no trouble slipping into the fun of hanging out and role-playing with friends. It was good to let the rest of the world just fade away sometimes.

A new chapter, with an intriguing title.

Moving day – assisted by the dynamic duo! You did a nice job of showing us how Jan had to carefully manage her strength. Happily, she had a knowing accomplice in Avery. You absolutely nailed the official meal for moving day: warm soda with take out pizza.

Chase is a very interesting fellow, and raised many more questions than he answered.

I chuckled when Avery scared off Chase with his display of web-based factual nerdism. What struck me here was that Jan and her mother knew exactly what had happened to the clueless Avery. Another case of men are from Mars and women are from Venus – aggravated here by Avery’s reliance on tech.

Absolutely. This is true for mortal ones too (like me).

It's also clever and realistic that Blood Raven's a writer. This way, she can drop in with her agent every 6 months or so, it's not going to be an everyday job. From what I have heard about big-selling writers (Grisham, Stephen King, Anne Rice, etc.) they are allowed a lot of freedom because it adds to their creativity. That agent or publisher can't be hounding Blood Raven every single day, and also expect spectacular results.

Then again, what do I know about the modern world? Maybe nowadays it is possible to simply shoot emails and text messages back and forth from writer to agent to publisher to editor, etc. I am talking about pre-internet and old phones in the paragraph above.

HEY that names website is chock-full of unusual names! ... Now I have even more names to draw from when making my next toons! Sheesus.... Godsgift was an actual name. Cleophus. Dionyse. Pretoria. My spellchecker is all confused. Some names it spells without putting red lines under, others it's screaming NO that's not a word!

Nice. Looks like she'll have a small castle of a home to live in.

That's awesome. She has to pretend to be a weakling, lest her mom notices her superhuman strength.

I've never heard of Jane Jet before. Time for a few moments with google, once again. That is a bit of foreshadowing, the fact that her moving van has a heroine buried under some paint. Well, not foreshadowing. Can't think of the word I mean.

Chase seems like some character I've seen in a movie. Can't really place which one, though. Wow. He's afraid to shake hands. I get it, but wow.

Aw, wow, I love the end. She forgets all her troubles and who she actually is, for awhile.

Oh, I forgot to post a picture of Chase, he is Steve Zahn, from his role in the movie Speak. He was originally going to be a large part of January's non-superhero life, someone she partnered up with on a business venture (he is an artist). But later I decided to use another character for that. So I no longer have any plans for him. I left him in because he still adds some local color, and he fills in some exposition on the Witch House.

The thing about Blood Raven and her vampirism is that there were certainly some clues there, as Acadian pointed out. Her unnatural longevity being key among them. Blood Raven did remind me of your other character Phereinon from your Seven Reimagined story(yes, I read some of that hehe). I enjoy reading about her and Jan/Stormcrow because as the chapters go along, you give is more information that fill in the blanks so to speak, and paint a larger picture of the character. Blood Raven has a very rich history, full of experiences that Stormcrow can learn from and apply to herself.

"Apparently Blood Raven had not been paying the bills. Given the dust on the floor, it was really no surprise".
Can imagine why. This part made me laughter harder than I should have.

Blood Raven again shows her impressive abilities as she shows Jan her extensive family tree!

" . . . and insipid sparkly fiction has made the very idea of us the subject of ridicule."
Isn't this the truth? I think, as a major fan of vampires and monstrous folklore, the image of vampires have been sort of exhausted in the recent years as young adult and teenage romance, but thankfully is just now starting to come back again in its original form. I agree with Blood Raven.

Fascinating new information on Blood Raven's history. I was especially intrigued with Selene's Heirs and Hecate's Gift, and now Stormcrow's inspiring potential for greater things!


It was great to see Avery and Jan back together again! The duo must go on!

And Chase was a welcome addition to this chapter. Funny guy! I imagined to be exactly like that! Long hair and everything! Avery putting him on the run cracked me up. That was priceless!

Acadian: The title will become very clear in another 3 or 4 episodes. It is part of how I am using local events in the story.

I hate moving. The only good thing about it is the pizza afterward.

Chase is a very idiosyncratic fellow (wow, I cannot believe I spelled that right the first time). I was going to use him more with January's career as a writer. But upon further rumination I decided to replace him with another character who was previously introduced, and is already closer to Jan. So I probably won't use Chase much more, except perhaps minor things concerning Jan at home.

Avery definitely did the absolute wrong thing by reminding Chase that the house did supposedly disappear at the same time the comet hit Tunguska. Oops!


Renee: I also decided that Jan would be a writer for the same reason as Blood Raven: the flexible hours. Though I also wanted her to be a creative person in general, like an artist, or decorator, or fashion designer, or even architect. The writing wound up perfect because it meshes so well with Blood Raven. It becomes one more thing they have in common.

I know most professional writers (at least the old school ones), sign a contract with a publisher to write a book. Then they write it. Some people write first and submit their manuscripts. But most book publishers won't even look at cold introductions like that anymore. Magazines will however.

However, thanks to the internet there is a crop of new authors who self-publish online, and never have a paper copy of their books printed. Or only later as an afterthought. Kickstarters are another route people take to self-publish, including hard-copies. Ghost Days is a great example. It was financed by a kickstarter, and the backers had the option to receive a hardcopy or just ebook version depending on how much they donated. Then it went to the usual online outlets like Amazon and Barnes and Noble (which is where I bought it). I first heard about it on Monstertalk, a podcast about monsters. The writer and illustrator were guests in an episode about Appalachian myths, as Ghost Days is set there and all about Appalachian monsters.

Jan is going to go this latter route, with self-publishing and crowd-sourcing. Though she might eventually do a deal with one of the more progressive publishing houses like Tor.com

A lot of those Puritan names sound like something you already came up with!

Jane Jet is based on Joan Jett. I just decided to invent an older generation hero and use her as inspiration. I got the jetpack and goggles idea from her last name. Like the real Joan Jett, my fictional hero was a lesbian who was never Out and public about it, but never really worked hard to keep it a secret either. When I wrote that I looked out the window and saw a U-Haul with a giant venus flytrap painted on it. So I thought, in a world with supers, wouldn't they put murals of Superheros on the sides of their vans, instead of things like local landmarks or pop culture icons, like they do in the real world?


Darkness Eternal: Blood Raven and Phereinon have some similarities, as they are both immortals. But Blood Raven is a whole lot more kind and compassionate. We have not had a chance to really see that yet, but we will, starting with this chapter.

In the Crow-verse, vampires deliberately created the pop-culture image of themselves in order to hide. As a lot of vampire settings do, I am going with the idea that the Inquisition was really started to hunt down vampires. It not only killed a lot of them, but also drastically changed their society, as afterward vampires had to take pains to blend into the mortal world. Not showing their powers. Not killing people when they feed. Changing identities every few decades, etc... Those that could not fit in, were killed by the Inquisitors. One of those inquisitors will be named later in this chapter - Heinrich Kramer: the writer of the Malleus Maleficarium. Jan will face off against him one day.

I am thinking that Bram Stoker was a vampire, and he was probably the one who began the campaign to de-mythologize vampires, and turn them into pop-culture. The idea being that eventually no one would believe that vampires were real. Carl Laemmle at Universal may have been a vampire himself. Or he was at least being manipulated by them to make monster movies. The same with the Hammer horror films. Anne Rice was not a vampire herself (she is too highly visible), but was definitely inspired by vampires, probably with a hypnotic or subliminal implantation of the idea. I figure Stephanie Meyer was a total free agent. By the time she rolled out Twilight, the train did not need a vampire conducting it anymore. No one believes vampires are real. If they do see one fly or feed, they will think it is just something else, like a superhero or a fetishist.

I came up with Selene's Heirs when I was working on a scene in Chapter 5 that is from Blood Raven's pov. I needed some terms and ideas that a vampire would use to form their worldview. I looked up "mother of vampires". I discarded Lillith because that has been done to death. I found Selene from Greek myth, and she struck me as perfect. That gave me a nice myth for Western vampires to ground themselves within. Whether or not any of it is actually true. Hecate's Gift naturally followed as a way to describe 'normal' magic, that keeps the Greek theme. They both add some color.









Incels

(Author's Note - Nightgirl, Nightman, Superious, Ms. Miracle, and Donar are all thinly veiled versions of Batgirl, Batman, Super Man, Ms. Marvel, and Thor. Wolfstone and Jet Gladiator are completely invented by me.)

(Second Author's Note - I decided to go back and change Blood Raven's civilian ID names, to make things less complicated. Now she was named Anne when she was born. Her current identity is as Branwen Renner. That is who wrote the books that Jan has read on Wicca).



Book 4.2 - Pride

It was past 11:00 pm when the last of the guys left. January cleaned up the dining room table, a.k.a. the gaming command center. Then she wandered around her new home - her new home! - and found her mother sitting on the living room floor. She had the long boxes of their shared comic book collection scattered around her. All were opened up, and individual books littered the room. She had a yellow legal pad in one hand, and was taking notes in it while she looked from comic to comic.

"Let me guess," January's mouth leapt into gear before her brain could clamp on the brakes. "You're Stormcrow, and you're brushing up on tactics."

"I wish," January's mother said. "Besides, she has blond hair, like you do."

Now January wished she had kept her big mouth shut. She was pretty sure that the first rule of maintaining your secret identity was not giving the people around you reason to think about superheroes, or consider how much you had in common with one in particular.

"She probably dyes it," January said instantly. "Or maybe she has a power that changes its color, so it looks that way when she's in her armor, and its actually black in real life."

"Or maybe she wears a wig…" her mother continued in that vein, which relieved January to no end. But only for the barest instant. "You are clever when it comes to this superhero business."

"Well I was reading all this since, well, I could read." January sat down beside her mother and picked up a worn copy of Nightgirl. She found herself smiling in spite of herself. When she had been little, Brigit Gallagher had always been someone she could look up to.

"Oh hey, remember that time you went out on Halloween dressed up as Nightgirl?" her mother gushed. "What were you, eight, or nine? I think I still have the pictures."

"Yeah," January smiled again when her mother produced her phone and brought up the photos. Compared to the Stormcrow Armor that Gadget had so masterfully crafted for her, the Nightgirl costume she had worn was cheap and trite. But she had worked on it for weeks, and had been so excited to finally put it on. She had even convinced her mom to let her wear makeup. Which had been a big deal, since it was still years before she came out and transitioned. Halloween was every transperson's favorite time of year.

"I remember Dad was so pissed," January mused, "I guess now we know why. Well, I guess I did then too."

"To be honest, even then I still had no clue," her mother said. "Even when you put that lipstick on like you had a hundred times before. I was just so overjoyed, because Nightgirl had always been my favorite. It felt so good to know that one of my kids actually thought something I liked was cool."

"That's one reason I wanted to be Nightgirl." January laid an arm around her mother and hugged her. "She was a librarian, just like my mom."

January realized that this was one of those golden moments in life. Like flying. She leaned into it for all that it was worth, determined to soak up all of the joy she could from this instant, and burn it into her brain for the rest of her life.

"So why do you have all this stuff out?" January said. "It's getting late you know."

"I'm working on an event for the library," her mother explained. "It's kicking off the Summer Literacy Program. I want to do a presentation on comic books, talk about themes they explore, have some for the kids to read, and hopefully get them excited about reading. But it's been so long since I have read them, I am out of touch with what is current."

"Well I hate to say this, but the superhero genre is not really that popular anymore," January noted. "With the internet and social media, people can watch videos of real supers in action. So comics about fictional ones are kind of superfluous, unless you like an actual plot or character development. What's big these days is Fantasy and Sci-Fi comics, like Wolfstone the Half-Orc or Jet Gladiator. Alternate Histories are getting more popular too, especially with Steampunk."

"The old comic icons like Nightman and Superious hang on because they're cultural institutions, like Colonel Sanders, or the Scooby Gang. The newer super comics that have staying power do it by keeping up with the times. The Nightgirl of Hancock run had stories about villains using social media to mine data, gentrification of neighborhoods, and even clean energy. Of course they could not resist throwing in a psychopathic transgender villain either. I guess the classics never do go out of style. Then again the new Ms. Miracle actually dared to introduce a new protagonist who is not only female, but a Muslim, and in Baltimore no less!"

"Really?" her mother's eyes widened in surprise. "I stopped reading these around the time I had you. I had no idea."

January moved around the boxes, and found a few that were hers. She dug out some comics and handed them to her mother. "Read these, you'll love them."

"Donar is a girl now?" the red-haired librarian's eyes goggled.

"For a while," January said. "The incels were in an uproar. Donar being a toad or a horse-headed alien was perfectly fine. But having boobs was the end of the world."

"You shouldn't use that word," her mother insisted. "Remember, when they go low, we go high."

"That's not what you said when you taught me kick-boxing…" January noted.

"There is a time and place for putting your fist in someone's face," her mother said. "But until then, you should always be nice. You won't change their mind. But the other people who are watching will be swayed one way or the other by your behavior. They are the ones you want to win over. Besides that, a fight is what the trolls want. Don't feed them."

"When did you get so wise about the internet?" January marveled.

"I had AOL in my day," her mother murmured. "So why else do you like Nightgirl? I see you have a bunch of her issues here that I never read."

"I have more on my tablet I can send you. I do all my reading digital now," January remarked. "I like Nightgirl because she always had an uphill battle. Not just against the villains, but the people who should have been her mentors. She literally became a superhero because her father used his power as the police chief to prevent her from becoming a cop. Then the other capes she first reached out to all tried to dissuade her, and talk her out of being a superhero. She wasn't tall enough, she wasn't experienced enough, she wasn't male enough. Every door was slammed in her face. But she persevered and succeeded, in spite of everyone in her way."

"That was just what was on the pages," January mused. "The real misogyny was in the writers and editors behind it all. They literally victimized and objectified her to create 'character development' for the male characters. Not just once, and not just all a long time ago. In spite of all this abuse, she as a character persisted, and rose above the people who tried to hold her down. That is what I really admire about her. She is a Viking. She does not give up, no matter what."

"You should be giving this presentation, not me," January's mother declared. January simply stared back in amazement. Which prompted the older woman to continue. "I am serious. I am out of touch. But you not only know what you are talking about, you look at this from the perspective of both a writer and a reader. You can talk about more than just what's on the page, but what is behind the page."

"I wouldn't know the first thing about doing something like that!" January was flabbergasted. Slugging it out with Whitewater Security again seemed a less daunting prospect. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"I will help you organize it," her mother reassured her. "I have done a million of these things, it's no big deal. We can work on it together."

January instantly felt it, the hook being set. Her whole family had just fallen apart. There was absolutely no way that she was going to turn down the chance to spend more time with her mother. After all, that was one of the reasons she had asked her to move into the house with her. She needed to rebuild that bond.

"Okay, I am in," January heard herself say. "When do you have to give this thing?"

"You will be presenting it this Friday," the librarian smiled.

"But that's in four days!"

"Then we had better get to work, shouldn't we partner?"

A wonderful episode with some much needed bonding between Jan and her mother. I’m so pleased they seem to be connecting so well. The change in venue is probably good for both of them.

Wonderfully done conversation between the older librarian and the budding young writer.

’January realized that this was one of those golden moments in life. Like flying. She leaned into it for all that it was worth, determined to soak up all of the joy she could from this instant, and burn it into her brain for the rest of her life.’
- - It truly is a magic moment that you want to cherish forever when you realize it as it is happening.

"There is a time and place for putting your fist in someone's face," her mother said. "But until then, you should always be nice. You won't change their mind. But the other people who are watching will be swayed one way or the other by your behavior. They are the ones you want to win over. Besides that, a fight is what the trolls want. Don't feed them."
- - Wow, Jan’s mother really shows her creds with this ‘quoted for truth’ observation.

I am super-depressed today. Maybe reading some Stormcrow will cheer me a little. Ghost Days looks like something I'd also like to read. Thanks for linking to that.

As much as her mom knows her, I don't think she'll be able to discern that January = Stormcrow. She's too close to really see the tree from the forest. I have a feeling somebody will figure this out though, somebody somewhat close to Jan.



Interesting. Yes, who can make judgments when everybody is dressed so silly?

Ha, who is this Ms. Miracle? I wonder if she's battling our out-of-control squeegy kids, along with actual gangs, and whatnot. Oh, there's our list of corrupt mayors too, almost forgot about that!

That sounds nice, mother working with daughter to give this presentation. I'm sure Jan will be able to handle it, although I agree that the thought of doing so will be pretty intense. Because now Jan is going to need to be more personable in front of strangers, right? That's something she hasn't really mastered like her mom has.

Oh the incels. Heard about that quite often.

Very funny of her to make that Stormcrow comment, and even funnier was her mother's response. I'm in agreement with her. Sometimes it is wiser to keep quiet on certain matters. Jan giving her mother some facts about the popularity of superheroes and comics made sense.

Nightgirl's history was also very interesting too, and Jan made very strong points. With her transgender background, it made sense why she would be so knowledgable regarding these matters. Her mother made a very wise decision in choosing her to make this presentation. I suppose she has a new mission.

Very emotional chapter

Acadian: I really enjoyed writing that scene with Jan and her mother. I want her relationship with her mother to be a major force in her life, one of the ways she is grounded in real-life as opposed to cape-life. Although it might be difficult in the future, as her mother does have a life of her own. Or at least, she is going to realize that she needs to have a life of her own, and that is going to precipitate some changes.


Renee: I hope our friendly neighborhood Crowgirl put a smile back on your face. I don't see her mom ever figuring out that Jan is Stormcrow either. But you are right, someone close to her will very soon. Although he won't say anything about it for some time.

Halloween is practically a Queer holiday. It is one of the only times you can be yourself in a way that is reasonably safe.

Ms. Miracle is my version of Ms. Marvel (Kamala Khan). I changed the names because I did the same with the other comic book characters I cited as existing in the Crow-Verse. I decided she lives in Baltimore rather than Jersey City because of you. So at least your city will get a comic book character in the Crow-verse. Though I am sure there is at least one *real* superhero there as well.

Jan giving that presentation is indeed a case of personal growth. As you said, it is going to be nerve-wracking. But as a cape, she is going to have to get used to speaking in public. This is her first step in that direction. In the future she will eventually do an interview with a reporter, and do several podcast appearances in her civilian ID to promote her writing.


Darkness Eternal: You cannot avoid the Incels if you are female and like science fiction or comics. I hemmed and hawed over whether or not to even use the term. It can certainly be used pejoratively. But it is also what they call themselves. Which is why I kept it in the end.

That scene gave me a nice way to do some world-building concerning the existence of comic books in the Crow-verse. It can get confusing, because now I am citing characters who are fictional within the fictional universe. Nightman, Superious, Joan Jet, are all in the comics in the Crow-verse. Not actual superheros like Jan. But it can be confusing at times even to me.

Nightgirl is a thinly disguised version of Batgirl, Everything I said about the misogyny of her writers is taken from real life. I changed her name to Nightgirl so DC cannot sue me.










Tardis

R'lyeh





Book 4.3 - Pride

"This feels kind of weird, like I'm sneaking around behind my mother's back," January groused.

She followed Blood Raven up the stairs to the second floor. Like January, her new mentor was dressed in ordinary attire, a pair of leggings and a fitted jacket. It still took some getting used to, seeing her like that, just being ordinary. January was so used to seeing the other woman in pictures and shaky video footage. She had always been clad in her armor, cape spilled out behind her, flame red hair waving in the wind. For January's entire life, that was the only way she had ever imagined Blood Raven.

This was indeed going to take time to get used to.

They made almost a complete circuit of the balcony that ringed the rotunda in the center of the house. They only stepped off one door before the last, into a small loft located in the front corner of the house, beside the driveway. That placed them within the round tower in that corner of the home, directly above the foyer and front door that lay on the ground floor below.

Golden light spilled from Blood Raven's fingers. The light faded, and with it went the northern wall of the loft. This revealed a stairway leading up to a perfectly ordinary-looking door overhead. January followed the elder heroine up the stairs. There she paused once more, and turned to look back her descendant.

"Do you wish to tell her, everything?"

"Yes," January said honestly. "No. It wouldn't make her life better to know. Only worse. I just don't like keeping it a secret from her. I'm trying to make our relationship work."

"This is something everyone who wears a cape must grapple with," Blood Raven sat down on the top step, and motioned for January to join her. When the younger woman did, she continued. "First off, there are many ugly truths you have to face. Such as if you tell her today, will you have the same relationship in ten years? Or will she hate you so much then, that she will betray you with it?"

"She would…" January stumbled over the words before they could leave her mouth. Would her father betray her? Yes. Would her brother? Yes. Her mother, for all that she loved her, had been resistant when she came out and told her she needed to live as a girl. Only after January had attempted suicide had her mother accepted the reality that she was trans. That had always lain there like a dead rat, sitting in the darkest corner of January's mind. How much could she really trust her mother?

"This life engenders suspicion and paranoia," Blood Raven sighed. "It forces one to view the people nearest to you coldly, dispassionately, strategically. It is one of the reasons most meta-humans give up the cape, or never take it up in the first place. The battles with black hats are trifles. Living with the cape is the true challenge. There is no shame in walking away from it. You can still lead a virtuous life, and remain a decent person without being this."

"Can I?" January shook her head. "How can I live with myself if I do nothing? I never would have made it through school without other people standing up for me. People like Avery, and my mother, or even my high school PE coach Mrs. Staley. I have to do the same."

"Good," Blood Raven said. "Knowing yourself is the most important first step. I suspect you know more about who and what you are than most people three times your age. You are going to have to decide for yourself just how much you can tell others about being Stormcrow, and how much to keep in."

"How many people know you are Blood Raven?"

"Half of them are sitting right here," the flame-haired woman answered. "But do not let my answer inform yours. You must follow your own stars. You cannot follow mine."

"You know, you can be a really warm and caring person, when you want to be," January laid a hand down on the other woman's leg. She was surprised when Blood Raven laid a hand - warm and seemingly full of life - atop her own.

"We all can be," she said. "We just pick and choose when and to whom we show that side of ourselves to."

"So what do I call you?" January asked. "I can't say Blood Raven for times like now. It said Anne on your genealogy chart. But you said Branwen yesterday."

"Either is fine," she responded. "I was born Anne, but obviously that is a name I do not hear often any more. Branwen is the name of my current identity, so that would be wisest. If someone else overhears, it would be easier than explaining why you would refer to me as Anne."

"Better safe than sorry," January nodded. "Branwen it is then, great-great-to-infinity-grandmother."

"Now my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter, I have something to show you." Branwen smiled in return.

"That is a lot of greats," January murmured. "It's a good thing you are immortal, otherwise you might die of old age just saying it."

"Some also simply use the number of greats," Blood Raven said dryly, "my seven times great-granddaughter."

January thought of that. She was nine generations removed from Branwen. Had Branwen known every member of all nine generations? Had she been there for their births, watched them grow, watched them die? How many identities had she been forced to juggle across that time? How many times had she gone through the contortions of inventing another distant cousin or aunt to pretend to be?

Suddenly it no longer seemed so strange that Branwen had disappeared from her life for fifteen years. What was that, compared to nine generations of children?

January was pulled out of her reverie by the sight of a soft golden light emanating from Branwen's fingertips. The auburn-haired woman reached out to the doorknob, and that light spilled off her hand and sank into the metal. January heard the click of a lock turning, and the door swung open on its own.

"I have kept this room sealed," Branwen explained, "so that none might abuse its… possibilities."

January followed her into the room. The ceiling rose high overhead, and the walls spread out far around her. The room was clearly larger than the entire house. January blinked, it was several times larger. From the outside, the tower could only have been a dozen feet across, at most. But from the inside, it was a far greater space. In fact, she was not even sure if the walls were circular, as they appeared from the outside. The more she stared, the more difficult it was to tell just what the actual shape of the room was, or its dimensions.

"It's like a Tardis," January breathed, "bigger on the inside,"

"Curious that you should say that," Branwen said softly, and closed the door behind them.

The ambiguous size of the room was not its most notable feature however. It was the designs inscribed into its walls, floor, and ceiling. The floor was inlaid with a pebble mosaic, like the kind January was used to seeing in pictures of ancient Roman or Byzantine buildings in her father's study. The pebbles traced out numerous curved lines that crossed and overlapped one another. Each line was laid out in a different color. Where two lines met, the color seemed to shift from one to the other, depending on how January focused on them.

The walls were inset with strips of metal, that likewise drew out more curved lines. Again, these came in all colors, depending on the metal they were made from. There was bright copper, gleaming gold, cold silver, dull gray iron, and more. Some of these lines intersected with those on the floor, joining together to form even larger contours. Others floated alone in the sea of angles and curves.

The ceiling was hung with beads. Every inch of the surface was covered with these strings, which varied in length, and the number, color and shape of beads fitted upon them. Some were made of metals such as the aforementioned copper, bronze, brass, or steel. Others were minerals such as quartz, malachite, carnelian, or bloodstone, and so many more stones that January could not put a name too.

These not only formed into still more lineaments of varying colors and textures, these changed depending on where January viewed them from. The entire room swam before her eyes. It seemed to form - and reform - as she walked around it. The more January concentrated on a specific set of features, the more sharply they leaped into focus, and the more the room seemed to alter itself to conform to that reality. It felt like the room was made of playdoh, while her eyes and mind continually reshaped it.

"It's not a Tardis," January declared. "It is R'lyeh. Euclid would have a heart attack in this place. There are angles that are there, but aren't. The room is a sphere, and a cube, and a pyramid, and whole bunch of other shapes I cannot even begin to describe. It's like being inside all my gaming dice. All at the same time, and none at the same time."

"Awesome!" she marveled. "This really is a Witch House!"

"This was my friend Keziah's sanctum sanctorum," Branwen explained. "She built all of this herself, to help her focus her energies. But also to help her cast herself across the realms. All things are possible here. All places, and all times. This is a wondrous place, and a terrible one. I am placing a great deal of trust in you, allowing you to be here."

She did not have say "Don't let me down." January conjured up the words all on her own.

As enjoyable as the previous episode of mother-daughter bonding was, this one of great grandmother(7) – great granddaughter(x7) was fully its equal. I love how you are showing us that Blood Raven does indeed have a side to her that is warm, even caring.

Blood Raven well demonstrates the loneliness being a cape can entail. I suspect it is good for both her and Stormcrow to have a fellow cape to open up with.

I’m quoting two passages of conversation below because the styles of speech in each so perfectly match who is saying them:
- - "Half of them are sitting right here," the flame-haired woman answered. "But do not let my answer inform yours. You must follow your own stars. You cannot follow mine."
- - "Awesome!" she marveled. "This really is a Witch House!"

What a fascinating room!


Nit: ’She did not have {to} say "Don't let me down."

Yes, Stormcrow did cheer me up a little last week. Thank you.



January won't walk away though. Just flying around alone, and coming to the rescue of others.... she's already addicted to this lifestyle. (I hate to use the word "addicted" but I can't think of a better one). It's the same rush I am sure police and EMTs feel all the time when the flame goes under the pan.



I just thought of something else. I am wondering what Bloo-- err -- Branwen did in all those decades and centuries in which there were no superhero "costumes?" You know what i Mean? Did she fly around in the late 1800s too, except wearing conservative Victorian garb instead of an outlandish outfit which makes her immediately recognizable in this modern age?

That would be a neat chapter ... go back in time and write about one of Branwen's adventures from back then. Hee hee! Well I guess they'd all consider her a witchy woman. Rumors abound around her, and so on.

I just got shivers reading about the Tardis room. I wonder what this room could be for.

I actually like very little flaws like this. With Goblin Lady I'd intentionally leave small mistakes in, just to remind myself I'm nowhere near perfect.

Acadian: I do want to show that Blood Raven/Branwen is a well-rounded character, not a one-dimensional dark avenger constantly lurking around every gothic church steeple. She is a person, she has a life, and a past, emotions and opinions (boy does she have a lot of the last!).

I too really enjoyed the chance to finally start developing the relationship between BR/B and Jan. Like you said, it is something very positive and healthy for both of them.

The hardest thing about writing BR/B is her dialogue. I actually have copied and pasted snippets of dialogue from 19th century novels like Frankensetein and Moby Dick, and put them all in a text file. I refer to that to get an idea of the style of speech, and use of particular words like "shall" and "should" instead of "will" or "would". Like "I should like to go to the fair on the morrow, dear Mr. Darcy." A lot of my work on later drafts is in tweaking her dialogue like this.


Renee: You are right. Being a cape makes January feel like she is an impact on the world in general, and people's lives in particular. Being that directly influential is very attractive. Though I do foresee a time when she will hang up the cape, at least temporarily.

I do have a lot of BR/B's history worked out. She was just an ordinary person until she became a vampire in the 1793. She spent years just learning to control her vampiric nature after that. But she would have been out in the world by the end of the 1790s. I know the money she has (she is rich) comes from pirate treasure that dates back to the early 1800s. Maybe Jean Laffitte's, but more likely one of the Ohio River pirates, or even one of those from the Great Lakes (there were pirates in Lake Michigan!). Most of the 1800s are a blank for her, though I do know she fought in the Civil War. Her history really gets filled in from WWII onwards. She was with the SOE in France for the war, and a Red Cross nurse afterward. She returned to America in the early 50s, and became a teacher in one of the first special ed private schools. Then after the death of Tanya Blanding in the Detroit Uprising in 1967 she became a superhero. Her contempt for the police goes straight back to that (Tanya was a four year old girl who was literally gunned down with a .50 caliber machine gun by the national guard, who were all exonerated afterward).

BR/B did not really indulge in a lot of blatant power use before she 'officially' became a cape. Like other vampires, she kept it on the down low. And her abilities have evolved over time. She wasn't always the awesome juggernaut she now is. The Tunguska event plays a role too, since magic became extremely more powerful after it. Before it, it took hours, or even days, to cast a spell, and even then it would not have been something as blatant as casting a fireball.

The Tardis Room is where BR/B's own mentor Keziah learned to travel between space, time, and alternate realities. It is heavily inspired by Lovecraft's story Dreams in the Witch House. Though also from A Wrinkle In Time. Keziah eventually learned to "tesser" all on her own, and no longer needed the reality warping effects of the room. But it still remains a place where all times, places, and worlds almost meet.






Book 4.4 - Pride

"This is where Keziah taught me to use magic," Branwen explained. "The mists between realms are very thin here. All things are possible. Because of that this place can help you feel your power, raise it up, and direct it, among other things. Yet I must caution you. If you are not focused, if you allow your thoughts and intentions to run wild, the room will react to them. The things beyond this room might react to you. That can be very dangerous."

January nodded. She felt like she was in martial arts class for the first time. She took her eyes from the walls and their ever shifting phantasmagoria of shapes and boundaries, and focused on Branwen. She let the rest of the room slip away, and concentrated on her face, and her voice.

"Everyone can use magic," Branwen said. "It truly is as I wrote in my books. It is not something reserved for people who are somehow special, or chosen by fate. It is no different from using your muscles, or using your brain."

"Now it is true that some have a natural gift for magic, and for tapping into their power. While others have no talent for it at all. In this way it is no different from those gifted as artists, or musicians, or coders, or running backs. But even the most ungifted are still capable of using magic, even if only in relatively minor ways. Just as everyone is capable of throwing a punch, even if not in the manner of Joe Louis."

"So why isn't everyone running around zapping things with wands?" January wondered.

"First off, no one needs a stick to use magic." Branwen shook her head. "They are nothing but theater props. Sadly however, some people who call themselves magicians still do wave them about. But that is because they think they need to, not because of any true necessity. In a few cases their wand or staff is actually enchanted to focus their power. But that is another bag of cats entirely."

"Sticks aside, magic is quite simply the ability to reshape reality: to change the world. It only works when you truly believe, deep in your heart, that you possess power." Branwen continued. "You must know you can create change, just like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, or that something you drop will fall to the floor." To emphasize her words, her ring of keys made a loud clatter as she let them plummet to the floor.

"And the sad truth is that very few people honestly believe they can change anything." January found herself nodding. "From our births we are taught that we are powerless. First our parents hold absolute power over us. Then our gods. Then our teachers. Then our bosses. Then our government. Anyone who rebels is an outcast, a weirdo, a criminal. They are Lucifer, the Fallen."

"You speak with a poet's tongue," Branwen observed. "When did you awaken to this wisdom?"

January showed her the scars on her wrists. "I know you saw this the night of the fire. I did it because I couldn't take living in the world anymore, and I knew in my heart that I could never change it, or myself. But I was wrong. I survived it. I overcame it. I learned that I could change myself, and my world, even if just one tiny step at a time."

"That is when you learned magic," Branwen declared.

January reflected on that. After she had finished her rehabilitation she had gone back to school. Only this time it was as January, not August. That had not been easy, in the way that climbing Mount Everest was not easy. Life had not gotten better, but worse. That is when the harassment started. When she learned what it was like to have two bigger people hold you down while a third pounded his fist into your face.

That was also when she learned to fight back, when she focused her will upon standing against her oppressors. Now it was clear to her that it was not simply her mother's Karate lessons that had enabled her to defeat all the bullies. It was her magic, focused upon her need to fight. All this time she had been using magic, without even realizing it!

What if she consciously focused that will on something? What could she do then?

"I need some way to strike out at opponents from a distance," January said. "I recently fought a flying robot, and half the time all I could use against it was harsh language, because I could not reach it."

"Of course, an arcane bolt." Branwen nodded. "That is a staple of magicians worldwide."

"First, feel your magic," the auburn-haired woman said. "Call it up from within, gather it together into a ball, and hold it."

January followed the exercises she had learned in her books on Wicca, and did just that. This time she felt her power not as a simple tingling on her skin, or warmth in her flesh. Now it was a cool flow of energy that she tapped into, like a mountain stream that washed through her spirit. She pulled that energy up as Blood Raven had directed, and slowly gathered more and more of it.

"So what is this energy called," January asked. "Is it mana? or magicka?"

"There are as many different names for it as there are people who use it," Blood Raven said. "The Romans called it numen or numina. The Chinese call it qi, or ch'i. Elphias Levi described it as 'astral light'. The people of the Pacific say that mana is a spiritual power. Hinduism and Yoga speak of kundalini. That is only scratching the surface. The more you look, the more answers you will find. The exact names and even meanings vary between every society in every age."

"So what do you call it?" January asked.

"I find myself drawn to the term aion, from the Greek," Branwen explained. "Much of the lore of my… particular kind… stems from Ancient Greece, and their moon goddesses. So that is what feels most natural to me. What term feels most natural to you?"

"Well, mana I guess," January thought aloud. "That is what most RPGs call it."

"Mana it is then," Branwen insisted. "Do not guess. Know your magic. Your will must be absolute. Now concentrate on your mana."

January said nothing. She turned all of her concentration inward, upon her power. She gathered more and more, until it felt wobbly in her metaphysical hands, like an overstuffed closet in a cartoon, whose door was about to burst from its hinges.

Branwen waved one hand, and a glowing wall of force sprang into existence between them. "Now visualize a bolt of pure energy erupting from your hand, and aim it at this barrier. Pour all of that power - all of that mana - you just raised into that. Hold nothing back. You must totally commit yourself."

January let go of her mana, and pictured it blasting forth from her body in a torrent of energy. She felt the mana spill out into the universe around her. It swirled like water circling a drain, then evaporated like steam. In moments it had fizzled away to nothingness, without even the barest sparkle rising from her fingertips.

"You are defeating yourself," Branwen said. "I saw you build your power. Clearly you have practice at this already. That is good. It appeared that you visualized the change you wished, and directed the power toward that. But there it failed. You must believe in this absolutely. Not that you can do it, but that you will. Magic is one tenth energy, and nine tenths in here."

She laid a hand over January's heart in emphasis.

"I do believe it!" January cried. "I'm trying. It just isn't working right."

"Then do so," Branwen declared. "There is no trying, no maybes, no mights. They all leave room for doubt. A conjure woman who doubts, is a conjure woman who fails. Banish these words from your vocabulary. A magician is absolute in her certainty. Do it, or do not. There are no other options."

"Did you just quote Yoda?" January asked.

"Who?" Branwen wondered.

The older woman sighed, and ran one hand through the auburn mane of her hair. "Keziah had this same conversation with me over two hundred years ago. This is the hardest part of teaching someone magic. The fact is, no one can teach you magic. I can tell you all about raising energy, or focusing on a result you wish to create, or that you must apply your will. But in the end you must find your own magic. It is an utterly personal thing, unique to every practitioner. That is one reason there are so many names for it. I know you can do it, because you have been for years."

"I can do it," January said. "No, I will do that. I will practice, I will work, and I will make it happen."

"That is the attitude," Branwen said. "Magic is no easier to master than martial arts. It takes commitment, effort, and time. After all, Rome was not sacked in a day."

"No, it took the Visigoths three days," January remarked dryly. That actually brought the ghost of a smile to her mentor's lips.

"I suggest you try a centering technique to help you focus your power," Branwen said. "It shall assist you in exercising your magical muscles as you find your way."

"Oooh, in Shadowrun centering can be used to reduce Drain, or penalties, or to improve a skill test."

"Shadow-?" Branwen stared at January in consternation.

"It's a role-playing game," January said. "I'll show you. It has a really cool magic system. Anyway, in it you can use centering skills, like zen mediation, or chanting, or singing, or dancing, anything really. It puts you in harmony with your being, your magical energy, and the world around you."

"Hmm," Branwen nodded. "It sounds like whoever wrote that knows a thing or two about actual magic. In the old days, before Tunguska, attaining an altered state of consciousness was a requirement for all magical undertakings. Today chaos magicians call it gnosis. The Neo-Platonists called it illumination, or ecstasy. But not in the physical, carnal sense of course."

"Plotinus defined ecstasy as the liberation of the mind from its finite consciousness, and so becoming at one with the infinite. Plato said it was the ardent turning of the soul toward the divine."

"It is a state where you focus your mind on one intent, and banish all other thought. Before Tunguska it could take hours, or even days, for a magician to change their level of consciousness and tap into their power. If they ever could at all. That is why ceremonial magic like that in the Western esoteric traditions are filled with such elaborate rituals."

"As I said before, to be a magician, one must first embrace one's power, in spite of the world insisting one is powerless. Next one must find this state of consciousness to call one's energy. Today it is not that trying for the most skilled of us. The power is always there, just waiting for us to draw it forth and direct it. But many modern practitioners still mistakenly read the old books and take them for the gospel. They rely upon the outdated methods, even when they do not truly need to."

"The old techniques can still be useful however," Blood Raven admitted, "For those less naturally talented, or less practiced, it is still the only way they can use magic. For those of us with greater ability it can aid in focusing our will. It is also an effective means by which to calm your mind and simply relax, even when not actually working magic. It is a way to remain silent in the presence of the divine, until it removes the clouds from our eyes and enables us to see by the light that issues from ourselves. Not to see what we think is good, but what is intrinsically good."

Thanks to her high school philosophy class, January recognized the quote from Plato, albeit heavily paraphrased. Then her jaw dropped.

Branwen raised her hands and closed her eyes. Golden light sprang from nothingness and formed complex Celtic knotwork designs in the air. The symbols turned around her, and January recognized the magic circle she had seen her conjure after the fire at the Flying Dutchman. The auburn-haired magician's voice sang in Gaelic, and symbols and knots revolved around her in a breathtaking display.

"This is how I focus myself," Blood Raven said. "At one time I would have had to have drawn these out with ash, or salt, or scratched it into the dirt. But in this era, the magic comes to us much more willingly."

"Wow," January heard herself say. "That's sick!"

"It is not ill," Branwen narrowed her eyes in consternation.

"No, that means it's good," January explained. "It's how people talk."

"That is asinine," Blood Raven insisted, "never say that again."

"Ok Boomer," January breathed, "how about it's awesomesauce?"

Branwen let the circle fade away, and looked at January.

"That is much more palatable," she agreed. "As your game declared, there are many ways to achieve gnosis. Chanting, dancing, meditating, some make passes with their fingers, like Japanese Kuji. It must be something that calms you, relaxes you, distracts you from your distractions. Think about that, and practice."

"But first show me this role-playing game," she said. "I should like to study its teachings. You may work on your skills while I do."

A fascinating discussion of magic!

I like how Branwen explained how ‘sticks’ (wands and, I presume, staves), while not necessary in the hands of a well-skilled mage can help project or focus one’s magic. The reason that strikes close to home is that, in time, Buffy will learn to use a staff to help overcome her inability to project her healing magic beyond the reach of her hands.

You continue to superbly contrast the speaking styles of Jan and Bran to wonderful effect. Awesomesauce! Er, I mean. . . most palatable.

The latter part of this episode was a hoot as the two ladies freely moved between real world magic and RPG magic during their discussion. Given Jan’s gaming background – which we can all relate to here at Chorrol – referring to her magic as mana makes perfect sense.

Ah, thanks for explaining about Branwen. So she did not have all those super powers for most of her existence. I like the way she had some more ordinary jobs here and there.

[censored], I didn't know the Great Lakes had pirates! Of course it'd be possible though,

I'll have to read more Lovecraft as it gets to be summer. I have a habit of reading in my backyard as weather gets summery instead of playing videogames. Haven't read Dreams in the Witch House yet, so it'll be interesting to compare any similarities.

Have you heard of Dark Matter by Blake Crouch? There's a scientist who builds a box which I'm now realizing could be similar to the Tardis. This box can link up to any of the zillions of alternate realities which supposedly surround us.

-----------------------------------------



I know the answer! Oooh ooh, Mister Kotter! It is .... Because we don't believe, or suspend out disbelief, at the very least. Branwen basically agrees a few sentences later.

Aw, Jan causes the Raven to faintly smile with her Rome comeback.

== "Did you just quote Yoda?" ... "Who?"





Uh oh, Blood Raven's going to spend an evening rolling dice! I have a feeling Jan is going to educate her mentor just as much.

Acadian: The stick discussion is something I learned in the Wicca 101 books I read back in the 90s. All that eye of newt and tongue of bat stuff is just theater. It can help you focus, but that is because you believe it helps you focus. In the end, they are just props. The real power is always within you.

In Shadowrun things like wands and staffs can be two different magical objects: fetishes and foci. When you learn a spell you have the option of making it require a fetish to cast it. This gives you a bonus in the spell's power, or makes it cause less drain. The tradeoff is you cannot cast it without the fetish. A focus is your basic magic item. A spell focus gives you extra power for a specific class of spells, like combat or healing. A power focus gives you extra power across the board. They are really expensive.

It sounds like Buffy is learning some 2nd Era ESO magic! It is nice to have some drawbacks or counter-balances to your characters. Otherwise they can start to seem too uber and just become annoying. So needing a wand or staff or other ingredient to do something can be a good thing. It puts some real limits on them. It is something I always grapple with in this tale, because, superheros. I can keep January seeming down to earth because I can always compare her to Blood Raven. Also, her magic only works when she couches it in terms of the elements. Because that is just how she thinks. It is all in her head. Keeping Blood Raven down to earth is much more difficult. I am coming to find that her being a vampire is her biggest disadvantage, rather than greatest power.

I am basically rolling with both ideas in the Crow-verse. Most people who use wands or staffs do so because they believe they need to. Some people know they don't need them, but instead use them because they are enchanted to give them extra power. It does not even need to be a staff or wand. It could be anything, a ring, a tie-tack, a cufflink, an earring, a lucky coin, a phone, you name it.

The dialogue with Blood Raven and Jan is something, as always, I pay extra attention to. Sometimes it is just as hard keeping Jan and Avery's dialogue appropriate with modern slang as it is making Blood Raven's old fashioned.

The gaming stuff is naturally a treat to finally be able to write about.


Renee: I did not know the Lakes had pirates either! I only started researching it recently when I was working on Blood Raven's history. None of them are as impressive as Blackbeard of course. One of them was even some kind of religious cult leader whose flock lived on an island. Another one was active even into the 1900s. I may adapt the cult one to be more nefarious than in real life, and use that. They could have been a bunch of Deep Ones living in the Great Lakes.

Dreams in the Witch House is one of Lovecraft's better ones. I don't like all the Witch-bashing in it. But I do like all the mathematics that it uses to reach alternate realities instead of magic. It is an example of how his later work moved away from using magical and religious ideas, to science instead. The gods like Cthulhu were not gods at all, but alien beings from somewhere else. Medieval magic was not the way to call upon higher powers, but rather cutting edge physics was. In many ways he went from being a gothic horror writer to a science fiction writer. The HPLHS has an excellent radio drama of it here. I highly recommend it.

Jan will be teaching Blood Raven as much as she is learning. Not so much about RPGs, as I don't see Blood Raven as a gamer, but just about the modern world in general, and embracing life. While Blood Raven makes for an excellent mentor in magicing and superheroing, Jan herself in an excellent mentor for being a part of the world.






Ms Marvel Tee

Trajan's Column

The Bayeux Tapestry





Book 4.5 - Pride

"So what are comic books?" January stared out at the room filled with bright young faces. And bright bored faces. And bright runny-nosed faces. And bright, interested faces. Lots of bright, and lots of young, and lots of faces.

And she was standing in front of them all trying not to act like an idiot.

She reminded herself that this was no different from teaching martial arts classes at the dojo. Only today she was wearing leggings and a Ms. Miracle tee rather than a karategi. But Karate, Muay-Thai, and Krav Maga were all old hat to her. She never got nervous teaching them. They were as much a part of her life as breathing after all.

So were comics. She was just not used to talking about them in front of a room full of people. She yearned for the halcyon days of slugging it out with Whitewater Security.

"Well that's a dumb question right?" January went on, to a chorus of low chuckles. "We all know what comic books are. Or do we?"

She nodded to her mother across the Warren Civic Center Library's spacious conference room. The red-haired librarian tapped a key on her laptop, and the projector it was cabled up to spilled an image across the wall behind January. It showed a series of stone carvings that climbed up a wide column. Depicted on it were images of Roman legionaries battling barbarians, gathering up livestock, or just standing around talking.

"This is Trajan's column," January explained. "It was built almost 2,000 years ago by a Roman Emperor. He wanted to show off how cool he was after conquering the barbarians. Like they used to say, statues or it didn't happen."

That brought some giggles from the room, and January nodded to her mother for the next slide. This one showed a series of panels of a futuristic warrior in a space ship, accompanied by a sidekick that looked like a cross between a dinosaur and a dog. The space warrior piloted his ship through a ferocious battle, blasting alien spacecraft through panel after panel.

"This is a page from last week's issue of Jet Gladiator," she continued. "Does anyone see the similarities between the two?"

Dead silence greeted her. January's heart did not stop however. Her mother had warned her that people were often slow to speak out in groups. Sometimes they just needed a little prodding.

"Let's go back and look at the Romans," January said, and her mother backed up the presentation slide to the image showing Trajan's Column.

"Let me see, it must be the clothes right?" January said. That brought more laughter. "No, that's not it."

"They both have pictures!" a young boy cried from the back.

"Yes, they both have pictures!" January agreed. "Thank you for playing! You win a comic book. What do you like, Wolfstone the Barbarian, or our friend here Jet Gladiator?"

"Wolfstone!" came the cry.

"By the Gods of Steel!" January growled in as low a barbaric voice as she could muster. She picked up the latest issue of the half-orc barbarian's adventures and walked out to hand it to the boy, who could not have been older than nine. "Good choice my young Padawan. Maybe when you get a little older you will try reading the novels by the writer - Howard E. Roberts. They are full of action and excitement, and fearless heroes who always do what they think is right, in spite of the consequences."

Kind of like capes, except she was not nearly as fearless as the half-orc warrior. Nor was she anywhere near as heedless of the repercussions of her actions.

"So why am I bringing up this boring stuff?" January nodded to her mother, who advanced the presentation to a slide of the Bayeux Tapestry. "Because when we read comics - and I read them too - we are taking part in a very ancient tradition: using a series of pictures to tell a story."

"Some people might say that comics are just for kids." January hunched her back over, and thinned out her voice into a creaking parody of an old woman. "They think we should grow out of them when we get old and decrepit like I am."

"But the truth is we never outgrow stories, and we never should." January straightened up and let her voice go back to normal. "We think in stories. When we don't have them, we even make them up. Because we want a narrative to explain why things happen in life. Those narratives can teach us, inspire us, show us who we could be, and who we shouldn't be. They also help pass the time when the Wi-Fi is down."

That brought some more laughs. January continued on with her short presentation, telling the kids an extremely short version of how modern comic books got started in America. She wrapped up with how they were evolving into the new age. From all comics being released digitally as well as on paper, to things like web comics that never had a single hardcopy ever printed.

"Almost anyone can make a comic book these days," January ended. "If you have a story to tell, and you can draw a picture, you can make your own comic. You don't have to work for a big company. You don't need a ton of money. Maybe one day, one of you will make the next Jet Gladiator. Now how about we read some comics?"

The children cheered. January suspected it was more because it was time to start passing out the comics than from her speech. But that was fine. As long as they had fun reading, that was all that really mattered. Plus she had survived it. January knew that being challenged and growing as a person was supposed to be important. But it did not come without anxiety. She was glad that being challenged was over for the day, and she could go back to being her ordinary self.

Her mother turned off the projector and came up to help pass out comics for the children to read. When they were all loaded up with books and found spots to start reading quietly, she turned to January.

"So why don't you write a comic?"

Thank you for your insights on fetishes and foci. My enhanced interest is fueled by a couple things. Staves are (for the first time in Elder Scrolls history!) good weapons in ESO. Secondly, ESO NPCs often require you to help them find a focus object to help them cast a spell that is necessary to open a portal, lift a magical ward, request key information from a spirit or other such arcanery needed to progress things along.

*

Oh yes – that old Roman saying, ‘Statues or it didn’t happen.’

A fun episode!

January’s nervousness is this unfamiliar arena of rugrats who are known for being blissfully unfamiliar with tact was understandable. Preparation, perseverance and some courage served her well though. In fact, the fledgling teacher managed her class magnificently. A+ I say.


Nit? - - ’This one showed a series of panels of a futuristic warrior in {a?} space ship,’

That radio drama looks intriguing. Thanks. Another 20 bucks though. I'd better finish up the Lovecraft book I already have first. Thanks, though.

Aw, well Jan is doing a good job in front of the class so far. She has them giggling at least. Yes, because the thing is when she's in front of one of her martial arts classes, she is in front of people who are there mostly specifically to learn about martial arts. But she's doing well as a comic book speaker. I am getting flashbacks to guest speakers in my own schooling.

Off-topic, but I recently learned in Japan, street cops don't have a need to carry guns, but they must know martial arts. That's so deep.



Absolutely. Blood Raven is awesome but being more in-touch with modern civilization could help her for sure.

Nice. She's giving comic books away as rewards. That's awesome. It's also ironic. Because surely there have been zillions of classrooms ever since the 1950s in which reading a comic book in class could merit a pink slip!

Delightful chapter, hon.

4.3:

Jan is such a mamma's girl. Blood Raven continues to pass on her wise words to Jan, and if there's one thing that rings true, is that people can be fickle, and circumstances can change just as fast as the weather. A lesson Jan needs to understand from the beginning. It is for sure a challenge cape-wearers must deal with.

Had she been there for their births, watched them grow, watched them die? How many identities had she been forced to juggle across that time?
This was an interesting part. As an immortal, one has to adopt an assumed identity throughout to countless years to cover their own tracks. I'd imagine as a person staying in one area for too long, people would begin to notice, and unless there is a credible explanation as to why he/she won't age, one must move on and "become someone else" per se.

The room was very appropriate! I like it.

4.4:

Forgot to point out that I like the chapter name. Very appropriate.

We continue to learn more about magic, and it is very fascinating to read. I'm learning just as much as Jan is. Magic having different names in different cultures is so true, and those names are all familiar.

"That is what most RPGs call it."
To be honest I grew up with 'mana' too. And now 'magicka'.

What I really like about Jan is despite it all, her hurts and unfortunate circumstances, and nearly giving up, she was able to withstand and stand tall. Very inspiring. And her sense of humor had me laughing my rear off.

"Ok Boomer,"
I'm dead.

Acadian: In the Mythica movies, magicians often had to use alchemical ingredients to cast spells. So you would need something like fire salts to case a fire spell. The ingredient was essentially the ammunition. That gave magic a real check, to keep it from being too uber. It is an idea I have filed away for future thought. It might be something I could used in an idea I have for a character called Artemis Argent (whom we will hear more about in the Crowverse, as she is a character January invents).

This was a nice episode in that it showed January stepping out of her comfort zone and doing something somewhat new. The confidence gained and experience will certainly help her in her future encounters with the public, both as Jan the writer and Stormcrow the cape. The final sentence by her mom will also have a significant effect on her future.

Thanks for the nit. In spite of having gone over that particular section at least a dozen times, little things like that still slip through.


Renee: The $20 is only for the cd. The mp3 version is cheaper, I think $12.50 or so. All of HPLHS's radio dramas come in multiple formats, with the mp3s being cheapest. I always buy the mp3s. I have not listened to a cd in a decade at least.

One of the ways I keep Blood Raven from seeing too uber, and hopefully just more accessible as a person, is that she is somewhat out of touch with modern times. You will see a lot of that in her interactions with January. They really do make a great pair, because they are so different in so many ways.

Oops, Jan's presentation was not in a school, but at the city library. I went back and tried to fix that up a bit to make it more clear.


Darkness Eternal: It would be difficult to be an immortal and still try to remain in the lives of your family and descendants. Because of necessity you cannot remain one place and one identity for too long. Then on top of that you have to keep finding ways to put yourself back in your descendants lives without anyone recognizing you. Talk about a serious juggling act!

The chapter title will become much more clear in today's episode.

The thing I like best about writing January is that in spite of all the trials and tribulations in her life, she still stands tall. She is an inspiration, but still has enough foibles to remain down to earth and ordinary, in her own caped way.

I am glad someone got the OK Boomer line!




Jamie McKelvie Art


Russell Dauterman Art


Star Of India restaurant

Ferndale Pride 2019 Pic 01

Ferndale Pride 2019 Pic 02

Ferndale Pride 2019 Pic 03

Ferndale Pride 2019 Pic 04

Ferndale Pride 2019 Pic 05





Book 4.6 - Pride

Her mother's question was still reverberating around January's head when she left work from the dojo the next afternoon. Of course the presentation of a comic would be totally different from writing prose. She would have to think about writing in panels and pages. But she already framed the events of her stories in her head by thinking of how they would play out in a movie. She could translate that into a graphical format with little effort, hopefully.

She would have to find a penciller, an inker, and a colorist, of course. Or one gifted artist with the time and skill to do all three. She had no idea how to find such a person. Maybe she could take an art class during the summer? She knew she was never going to be a Jamie McKelvie or Russell Dauterman. But maybe she could learn enough to draw breakdowns to pass along to the real artists. She had read that Neil Gaiman did that.

"Hello America, this is Gilda Gadlfy, bringing you all the dish on our caped and cowled friends."

January knew she should not waste her time on a trite rumor-monger like Gilda. But now that she wore a cape herself, she just could not resist hearing what was going in the superhero world. Or at least what the non-supers thought was going on. Of course it had nothing to do with wanting to hear her own name on the radio. Nope, not one bit.

"Today our friends in the Motor City are celebrating Pride Day in the suburb of Ferndale. A little birdy told this reporter that our favorite feathered heroine Stormcrow might be in attendance. Word has it that the festival committee has reached out to the Crowgirl and asked her to come up on stage. Ever since the bombshell was dropped that she is a lesbian, or isn't she, everyone has been wondering what side of the bun our favorite Detroit cape spreads her butter on. Come on girl, you can tell us. Give us all the dish!"

January shook her head. She had no idea that this would happen when she told that gas station attendant that she was gay. She had just been trying to let him down easy when he was hitting on her. Never mind that it was true.

"In other news, the trial of former Senator Wade Harding of Michigan continues into its fourth week. Michigan Attorney General Dana Essen introduced evidence that Harding allegedly laundered money from Russia into numerous real estate deals. This is in addition to the charges that the senator used his non profit organization - named Non Profit 1488 - to funnel money illegally into his political campaign. He is also charged with using the non profit's finances to buy himself a million dollar boat, which he calls the Warfighter. It appears that of the millions of dollars raised by his ComeFundMe campaign for Non Profit 1488, none of it went toward that organization's murky goals of furthering promoting economic nationalism and American sovereignty.

January shut off the radio as a new announcer droned on about the latest political scandal, which was notable in that for once it did not involve the president.

Her phone chimed, and she looked down at the new text that had popped up.

You here yet?

She typed furiously with her thumbs, and sent Avery a reply.

Coming up to Star of India.

January lowered her phone, but did not put it back in her purse just yet. She wore a rainbow halter top that left her abs on display, along with a miniskirt that showed off her legs. A Make America Gay Again hat graced her head, with her long blond hair pulled through the back in a ponytail.

She would normally never wear anything so incredibly eye-catching. But today she looked quite tame and ordinary compared to the people who flooded the street around her. It was Pride day, and downtown Ferndale was packed to the brim with brightly colored people. There was a belly dancer, and a woman beside her who wore an exotic outfit of numerous veils all layered one over the other. Someone was dressed in a full cheetah costume, wearing a tank top over it emblazoned with a rainbow-colored housecat. Many people wore rainbow capes, or had their faces painted with bright colors. Some even wore entirely ordinary clothing, and on a day like today, they were the ones who stood out the most.

The great thing about Pridefest was that it was the only day of the year that was not about being ordinary. Well that and Halloween.

She saw a black man's head rising above the crowd, and put her phone away with a smile. She suppressed a fangirl squee as she slipped past a stormtrooper, a Princess Leia with purple hair, and a Sabine Wren with blue hair. She was just about to tap Avery on the shoulder when he turned around to face her.

For a moment she thought he had worn just ordinary clothes. Then she noted that his orange shirt said "Homo Depot", rather than the familiar logo of a certain home improvement store. She smiled, and he gathered her up in a warm hug.

"Careful, someone might think we are a straight couple," January breathed.

"This is like the only place that will never happen," Avery laughed.

"So how has your first week in the Witch House been?" Avery asked. "Seen any ghouls or goblins yet?"

He led them out into the street. Nine Mile had been blocked off at either end and now each side of the road was lined with kiosks devoted to every sort of outreach organization there was. Even an animal shelter had set up with rows of dogs and cats in little cages. All through the street between people wandered, danced, and schmoozed.

Through it all January never once felt self-conscious, or worried about someone reading her.

"Not even a kobold," January said. "The house hasn't disappeared either. We did get the electric turned up on Wednesday, and water on Thursday. So no more taking sponge baths with Aquafina. We got pellets for the wood burning stove too, it's very energy efficient."

"But you don't like, cook on it right?" Avery wondered.

"It's not that kind of stove," January said. "It's the furnace kind. It's very energy efficient, and the pellets are made from sawdust and other scrap wood that just gets thrown away otherwise."

"Sweet," Avery nodded. "You know I could probably put a nuclear reactor in. I've been working on another one this week, trying to miniaturize it."

January wondered if he meant to shrink it down small enough to be put in say, a suit of powered armor? But she did not say that out loud.

"I'm not sure what my mother would say about that," January murmured. "Besides, I thought you might want to keep that stuff on the down low, know what I mean?"

"Well she already knows I have the cold fusion in my car," Avery insisted. "Besides, we don't have to tell her it's a fusion reactor. Oh, hey, and I've got something for you."

He opened up a little paper bag that he held in one hand, and held it out so that she could see inside. January saw a baseball-sized gizmo within, with a ring and pin on one end, like on a hand grenade.

"It's my first adhesive wave emitter," Avery said proudly. "Pull that pin, and in five seconds everything nearby sticks together. The battery is limited though, so use it sparingly."

January nodded, and unobtrusively tucked the immobilizing weapon into her purse. It would have come in handy during her fights with Archie a few weeks before. Of course something like an arcane bolt spell would be nice too, if she could ever learn to cast it correctly.

"So are you meeting that fireman's sister here?" Avery teased. "You know, the one with the…"

"No I am not," January declared. "That's the last thing I need in life right now. But what about you? Are you going to hook up with someone?"

"I already did," Avery said.

"You dog you!" January laughed. "Spill already!"

"He was ok. Had these abs that were just fire." Avery gazed across the street wistfully. "But the more we talked, the more I realized that he was lame. He had never even heard of Babylon 5, and you can just forget Farscape."

"You know, if you keep your standards so high, you are going to end up like me," January observed.

"There are worse fates," Avery mused. "Besides, I'm not a monk yet!"

January stopped at the sight in the street before her. There were always plenty of sights at Pridefest. But this one hit home. It was a child around nine or ten, January guessed a boy from the bone structure of their face, but she could have been wrong. Not that it really mattered. They wore a Stormcrow costume: cape, winged helmet, crow insignia on the chest, everything. It was pretty good too. Much better than the Nightgirl costume she had worn for Halloween when she was nine.

The junior Stormcrow was walking along holding the hand of an older man, who January imagined must be their father. Beside them was a second man, also holding hands with the first adult. Husbands? Even just ten years ago, she never would have seen that. At least not without a triple murder taking place…

"You inspire people," Avery breathed quietly in her ear. She felt him lay an arm across her shoulders, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. She could not help but to smile. Maybe there was something good in the human race after all?

"Hey, have you thought any more about what the organizers said?"

"About me getting up on stage?" January broke off their contact, and shook her head. "No. I'm not going to do it. What would I say? Rah for the home team? I'm not a cheerleader. I wouldn't know what to even say, or do."

"Come on, you could do Karate demonstrations, like Elvis!" Avery laughed.

That did provoke a smile from January, along with an eye roll. "I left all my rhinestones at home."

"Seriously, you said you survived the comic thing at the library yesterday," Avery replied. "So what's a few rainbow-huggers compared to that?"

"That was different," January explained. "It was for the kids, hopefully to get them reading. This just seems… self-indulgent. Like all these Instantgram influencers and Cardassians, famous for being famous. It can't be about me. It has to be about them."

January pointed to the mini-Stormcrow tagging along with their two dads in the street ahead of them.

"I get that, and I'm the first one to be all about staying on the down low," Avery said. "But when it came out that you were a lesbian, it changed the conversation. America's first openly gay superhero. Sort of, because you have never really came out and said it directly."

"Well there was never really a good opportunity during my fights with Archie or Whitewater," January said wryly.

"I know," Avery held his hands up in self-defense. "But this, this is the opportunity. You could tell people what you are, and what you stand for."

"And give all the incels and homophobes even more to troll about on social media," January rolled her eyes.

"I know you aren't afraid of that," Avery said.

"Of course not," January said. Being insulted and threatened by bigots was just an everyday part of life after all. It was the same as having to brush her teeth and shower. "But why does it have to matter?"

"It does matter," Avery insisted. "Remember when you came out, and your parents didn't want to believe you? That's because they didn't know the first thing about trans people, or what being trans even was. This is an opportunity to get people talking, so that doesn't happen to some other kid."

January wanted to lash out and say that she shouldn't have to do outreach for people too ignorant to accept reality. Or that the onus of being the poster girl for the entire Queer community should not lie upon her shoulders. But she didn't. Instead she remembered the therapy sessions she had been forced to take after she had attempted suicide. She thought of what she had learned about communicating with people. She breathed deeply, and felt her mana wash through her like cool water.

"I know what you are saying, and I understand why you feel that way," January said. "But wearing the cape is not as easy as punching bad guys. There are moral and ethical implications to everything I do. If I stand up there, is it really about doing the right thing? Or is it about flattering my ego? When does one end and the other begin? Worse, if I do, isn't that just going to put a giant target on this festival? Not just now, but for years to come? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So isn't it also encouraging white supremacist capes to do the same in response, and incite even more hate and fear everywhere? Now I see why Blood Raven stays in the shadows, and why the Sentinels have a PR person."

"You're right," Avery said, "you're right. It's so much simpler just sitting in my basement making gadgets. But you gotta come out of the basement sometime."

"That's why I had to learn Karate," January breathed.

Avery laughed, and just that easily the tension that had built up between them deflated like a split tire.

Yay, Gilda Gadfly again!
’Of course it had nothing to do with wanting to hear her own name on the radio. Nope, not one bit.’ - -

Fun descriptions of those colorful folk at the festival.

And Avery gives her a glue grenade! That should prove useful.

"Not even a kobold," January said.’
Oh, I remember those from Baldur’s Gate.

Jan faces a dilemma. Though she does not rely on the support of ‘fans’ like an entertainer, she does rely on the support of law enforcement so how others perceive her certainly impacts her effectiveness. Another consideration is the potential risk to her secret identity; shrouding herself in mystery helps preserve not only her identity but, I should think, the safety of her family. ‘What would Blood Raven advise, and why?’ might be a relevant question for Jan to consider as the older cape certainly has much more experience on the potential ramifications of the choice Jan faces than dear Avery. Regardless, it is a thorny question and I look forward to learning how Jan resolves it.


Nit: ’January nodded, and unobtrusively tucked the immobilizing weapon in into her purse.’ - - An errant ‘in’ slipped in.

Maybe one of her friends mentioned previously has some artistic talent? The friends who went to that concert?

Aw, it's Pridefest. We have our own version down here too, in B'more. Been over a decade since I've gone, though.

Ha! They want her to show her pride. All because she wanted the cashier she bought that soda from to stop his pursuit.



Ain't that the truth?

Avery is working on another nuclear reactor. He's so casual about it.

Aw, a mini-Stormcrow. :blush: That's sweet. That really must hit home. And I agree with her thoughts about going on stage. It's just not the right time, I'd imagine. Too early. Too much has happened. Maybe she (as Stormcrow) even needs to lie low as she's been doing, for awhile. So much has happened.

4.5:


So true. It is a constant life of moving, disguises, new identities, etc. A bit lonely I imagine.

Oh this was a short chapter but nonetheless a good one. It sure isn't easy to stand in front of a many-faced audience, but Jan did it so well in spite of her worries of making a fool of herself. I've learned something just as new as the students.


"It was built almost 2,000 years ago by a Roman Emperor. He wanted to show off how cool he was after conquering the barbarians. Like they used to say, statues or it didn't happen."
This was funny. And just randomly throwing this out there, as I'm reading this there is a series called Roman Empire playing on my television. How appropriate.

It was pretty cool to know about the origins of comic books from the past and the modern-day. I'm sure she felt great sharing this with the students, as her own life is comic-book worthy. No doubt she felt a strong connection with comics. Why doesn't she write one, indeed?

4.6:

The idea of a comic book begins to form! A comic writing super-heroine? That's pretty kickass.

Ferndale Pride certainly looks fun and vivid, just as the diverse people that make it come to life. Jan herself had quite the outfit, and the descriptions provided were great!

Sabine Wren! I spotted the Rebels fan!

"Through it all January never once felt self-conscious, or worried about someone reading her."
A liberating experience! She feels quite welcome here. No judgement at all. Just freedom of expression!

Neat little gizmo Avery's got there!

Hmm, I understood both sides of the argument here between Jan and Avery. On one side, Stormcrow can come out as the first gay transgender superhero, but as she said it, there are consequences to her every choice, and not all of them are easy. In such a delicate yet harsh world, she has to be very wise in everything she does. Equal and opposite reactions for sure!

Great chapter!

Acadian: I am having fun with using Gilda to convey general information about the goings on in the Crowverse. She will probably appear at least once in every chapter from now on.

We will see what that glue grenade can do very soon!

I remember kobolds from the old days of playing D&D. Only half a hit die, so easy to kill in a straight up fight. But they loved traps, which made them annoying.

Blood Raven would of course advise to remain in the shadows. Of course she would also remind Jan to follow her own stars, because she cannot live Jan's life. They will have more than one talk about it in the future.

Thanks for spotting that extra 'in' that slipped in there.


Renee: One of those Knights of Nerddom might indeed be an artist! Be on the lookout for that a few chapters from now.

I have not been to Ferndale Pride in a long time too. I got my cat Freya from an animal shelter my first time there. The shelter had a kiosk at the festival, with lots of cats and dogs. I saw Freya in one and fell in love with her.

I love how casual Avery is about things like fusion reactors too! To him it is like talking about a toaster he fixed.

The mini-crow was inspired by an episode of Supergirl, where group of kids in a school talent show all did a song in supergirl outfits. Of course the real Supergirl was there in the audience, as one of her friend's daughters was in the show. It was a nice way of showing the positive impact she was having on people's lives. She gave people inspiration.


Darkness Eternal: Jan's experience talking in front of all the kids is actually going to be a major event in her life, as it has given her the confidence to be ready to speak out in public. Something we will see her doing in the future.

I loved seeing that Sabine Wren in Pridefest pics. She was my favorite character in Rebels, because she was the most interesting. Those pictures are all from the 2019 festival.

The issue of Stormcrow coming out is still not resolved in January's mind. As much as she is trying to think logically and strategically, in the end her final decision will simply be based on what she can live with, or not live with, doing.






Uniroyal Giant Tire

The Fist of Joe Louis

Deets


Downtown Ferndale - the site of Pride

January's route back to her motorcycle

Rosie O' Grady's and the side street south


The Conjurer's theme - something to listen to while you read


Book 4.7 - Pride

"So if you were a superhero, what would you call yourself?" January changed the subject. It took an effort to say "if" rather than "when".

"Me? No way am I wearing a cape." Avery shook his head. "Way too much attention, and you can keep all of these philosophical quandaries for yourself."

"But if you did," January pressed. "I know, The Big Tire, or The Fist."

"Oh Drek No!" Avery laughed. "Maybe something like Giant Sausage Man, or Mr. Beef."

"I can just see you on in the freezer aisle selling breakfast food," January teased.

"Well I was hoping Grindr, but hey, you take what you can get right?" Avery laughed.

They worked their way through the crowd, pausing at kiosks here and there, an admiring other people's cosplay outfits, or just plain wild clothes. They stopped to eat at M.C. Wiches for subs. Like all the restaurants on Nine Mile, it was so packed that they had to eat sitting on the curb outside. But January did not mind. Her Jack White sandwich was amazing, and Avery gave the thumbs up to his Big Sean Steak 'N Onion. Life was good.

They people-watched, drifted around, and listened to music at the stage. More than once young, attractive men stopped to chat up Avery. More than once deets were passed between them before moving on. January was not sure how he did it. Though she suspected that Avery was more than a little handsome, and that the libido was not an insignificant force in young males.

"If you want to, you know, spend more time with someone, that's cool," January breathed at one point.

"No way," Avery waved a hand dismissively. "We've been going to this thing for what eight years now? I remember when we used to ride our bikes to get here. This is our day. No Knights of Nerddom, no parents, just you and me sister. You know, I haven't seen you since Monday. When is the last time a week's gone by without you in the Gadget Cave?"

"That time my family went on vacation to Florida," January mused.

"Yeah," Avery sighed. "Let's face it, we're not kids anymore. We're growing up, and our lives are going to change. We aren't going to be able to spend every night hanging out in the basement and shooting the skittles together."

"So we have to hold on to whatever moments we can," January finished his thought. She held out her pinky finger. Avery wrapped his own little finger around hers.

"Friends until we die," Avery sagely intoned.

"Then our ghosts go on to scare the frak out of the living!" January laughed.

January tried not to think about what he had said. Moving out had not exactly been what she had wanted. But it was what she and her mother needed. Ever since ConFabulation, and her first night as Stormcrow, her life had been racing faster than her mind could keep up with sometimes. So much had changed. So much was still changing. She had to remind herself to stop, and appreciate what she had right now, before time marched away with it all.

She was still doing her best to just live in the moment when they came upon the animal shelter's kiosk. Her heart melted to see all those adorable cats and dogs in cages. She wished that she could take them all home. But she did not see how she could make time for a pet. And how would she take one to the vet on a motorcycle?

The afternoon was sliding into evening when January felt it, just like she had at Hart Plaza. It was a wrongness, like in a villain's lair in the old Nightman TV show from the 60s, where the picture was all slanted to one side. A less than subtle cue that you were no longer standing on stable ground. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck, and her jackfruit sandwich threatened to leap up out of her stomach.

She smelled blood again too, thick and coppery. But this was most definitely not like she felt around Blood Raven. She had been in the superheroine's presence enough now to know her magical scent. She was a vampire, and blood was an integral part of how she related to the Universe after all.

But this was different. It was not so clean and wholesome, if such words could be used to describe a vampire. Blood Raven used blood - well life really - to live, just as January breathed air and ate jackfruit sandwiches. Or just like a tree fed on sunlight and water.

But what she felt now was not about life at all. It stank of cruelty. It stank of horror, and corruption. It felt like the universe was being thrown upside down, torn up, and perverted in some very basic, and very terrifying way.

To his credit, Avery automatically noticed the shift in her demeanor. "Oh snap!" he breathed. His phone was in his hand, and he took a moment to scan its screen. "Time to go to work. I've got nothing so far. I'll get to the Geo and set up on a real computer."

"I'll get back in touch once I suit up," January nodded.

They split up. Avery headed north through one of the alleys between the buildings on Nine Mile. January imagined that he must have parked in the big lot north of all the businesses. She headed east along Nine Mile, weaving through festival-goers like a running back. With one hand she absentmindedly grabbed her raven banner pendant, and thumbed on the video camouflage unit concealed inside. That would hide her from cameras.

She reached Woodward, but the light was not with her, and a wall of cars whizzed past. She could feel that wrongness growing in the air, sickening her stomach. There was no time to waste.

She leapt out into traffic, racing between cars. Horns blared at her. She laid one hand on the hood of an approaching Ford, and used it to spring board herself over the car. Her feet hit pavement beyond, and she leapt again. In an instant she sprang past an oncoming truck, coming just inches from its massive grille.

She could have simply leaped over the entire south-bound side of the avenue. But that would have been too blatant, even with her video camouflage. She tried to make sure everything she did was plausible for a mundane person. Lucky perhaps, but realistic.

Then she was in the grassy, open space between the north and south bound sides of the split roadway. She darted across to the north bound side, and once again dove through traffic. She jinked between a Chevy and a Dodge - she found the latter to be aptly named, given the circumstances. Then she was on the sidewalk, and tore her way along Nine Mile Road to the stares of people all around. She ignored them, and raced past the businesses on the corner of the two streets. She ducked into the first alley on her right, and followed it around a corner to the parking lot where she had left her motorcycle.

She unlocked the fake gas tank bump, and pulled out the pack she kept stowed there, in case of emergencies. She slapped the container shut again, and raced back into the alley that she had come from. After a pair of glances to either side to confirm that no one could see her, she leapt straight up and onto the roof of one of the buildings facing Woodward. She could see that the sky had now turned slate gray with clouds.

Fire give me passion and energy. Transform me in the night sky.

She was in her armor, and her clothes were tucked away in the backpack. She hid it behind an air conditioning unit. She paused to turn off her video camo to spare the battery. Then she raced for Woodward. She did not pause when she ran out of rooftop. Instead she leaped into the sky and soared out above the busy boulevard. She triggered her wings at the top of her arc, and glided gently across the twin roadways.

She stared down at the gaggle of people packed into the main festival grounds, in the closed off area of Nine Mile directly west of Woodward. She did not see anything out of the ordinary there. Nor did she see anything on top of the buildings to either side of the road, or in the parking lots beyond them. She banked to the left, and glided south.

There was a much larger parking lot there cut in half by a pair of buildings in the middle of them. The eastern lot was taken up by more of the festival, including a kid's area with a rock climbing wall just behind the Post Office. The western lot was packed to the brim with parked cars. But she did not see anything untoward in either area.

"I'm online now Stormcrow," Gadget's voice came into her ear. "Not seeing anything yet. No alarms, no 911 calls."

January banked back to the right once more. Part of her brain noted that at one time, the motion would have sent her spilling earthward. Now it came as natural as walking. Thank goodness, because she could not afford to give all of her attention to the mechanics of flight right now. Not with that sense of wrongness gnawing at her guts, and threatening to send the world topsy-turvy.

She sailed back over Nine Mile, the main artery of the festival. She still saw nothing. Numerous flashes of light blossomed in the street below, and January realized that people were taking pictures of her with their phones, or held them aloft to record videos. She ignored them, and soared across the row of buildings north of the road, then above the parking lot beyond. She recognized Gadget's yellow Geo Storm down there. He must have arrived early to find such a good spot.

That sense of wrongness was fading now. January frowned. Whatever it was, she was going to miss it again, as she had the night of the fire. Something terrible was happening. She knew it. She just could not tell exactly what, or where, it was.

She turned back to the festival grounds. She was rapidly running out of altitude now. She saw the band shell ahead, with its high metal awning that shaded the stage, and the array of lights that hung from the scaffolding. She aimed for that, and picked up speed as she nosed down toward it. Before she could hit it face first, she rolled back, and feathered out her wings flat to her angle of descent. They caught the air like a parachute, and put the brakes on her dive. Then she trigged off the wings, and transformed them back into an ordinary cape.

She dropped lightly to the top of the steel superstructure. Now people were cheering and calling out her name. The band had even stopped and were calling on her to join them on the stage below. January briefly considered trying to get on the PA and asking people to evacuate. But she had no idea if that was even necessary yet. She did know that every moment she wasted, something was dying.

That certainty drove home deep into her gut. Someone or something was dying, right now. It was not an ordinary death either. Not a farmer chopping off a chicken's head, or a person going quietly in their sleep, or slipping and cracking their skull in the bathtub. This was something extraordinarily bad. Something magically bad. Otherwise how could it affect her so?

She felt the first drop of rain strike her winged helmet, and then another drop onto her hand. A crow called out somewhere nearby.

She raced along the top of the scaffolding, turning her head this way and that to search for any sign of the danger. But still, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing appeared dangerous. She did see the crow that was calling to her, on the far side of the street.

She followed it, and leaped off the band stand and onto the line of buildings that lined the south side of Nine Mile. The crow took flight, winging its way westward. She sprang after it, leaping from one close-packed roof to the next. Most did not have an alley or even crack between buildings. Finally she came to the end of the line at Rosie O'Grady's. The Irish pub stood at the corner of Nine Mile and a side street that headed south. This second street also marked off the western edge of the parking lot behind the businesses on the south side of Nine Mile. Beyond stretched a sea of suburban homes nestled beneath the green tops of trees.

"Oh frak!" January groaned as she turned on her video.

"What the frell is that?" Gadget responded.

It scuttled out from the subdivision and onto the southbound side street. It had to stand over six feet tall at the head, and its giant, distended abdomen rose several feet higher than that, capped with a wicked-looking stinger. Its eight legs propelled it along the concrete with frightening speed. Its head, which was packed into its thorax without the need for a neck, bore eight glowing green eyes. A pair of giant, thick fangs big enough to be called mandibles hung down from its horrid face. Blood and gore splashed its black hide, underscoring its malevolent appearance.

By now the feeling of mystical wrongness had subsided. Whatever it was that January had felt was over now. This new monster however, set her mundane senses on edge nearly as much as whatever had disturbed her magical intuition. Spiders were not supposed to be bigger than an SUV!

Thankfully the side street was closed off for the festival, so there were no cars to run afoul of the monstrosity. But there were people in the parking lot adjacent to the road. January saw them scurry for cover behind cars, or just race away as fast as their feet could carry them. The movement instantly drew the attention of the spider, and its eight eyes alit upon the juicy morsels in rainbow-colored attire.

January could not let that thing reach any of them. She instantly leapt into the sky, and triggered her wings. She only needed seconds. But they had already slipped away.

A man who looked suspiciously like Freddie Mercury stepped out of a pick-up truck and drew the largest revolver January had ever seen. Thunder roared, and for once January was not the cause. The revolver bucked in the dark-haired man's hand as he leveled it at the giant spider. Again and again it roared, until the hammer was clicking on empty chambers.

"He missed," January hissed.

"No, he hit," Gadget said in her ear. "Look behind the spider. All those bullets went home in that fence, and into the house past it."

January saw that her partner was right, as usual. The wooden fence behind the spider had been turned into Swiss cheese by the massive handgun, and several holes were plain in the windows of the house beyond.

"They passed right through it like it wasn't even there," January said. "Maybe it's an illusion?"

She was going to find out quickly. Freddie Mercury backed away from the monster, which now charged him with terrifying speed. The gunman tripped in a pothole - there were Michigan's roads for you - and fell flat on his back. The spider loomed over him a moment later, gigantic fangs poised to rip him in half.

January got there first. She clicked off her wings and landed with her feet straddling Freddie Mercury's torso. She caught up both of spider's massive fangs as they drove down at his chest. Now at her chest, since she had interposed herself between them. It was like grabbing a pair of fence posts, being driven by a truck.

Earth give me the strength of the mountain.

January focused all of her power on that image, of a mountain standing tall. She became that mountain: immovable, impervious, inviolate. Her feet became part of the concrete below her, and part of the soil and rock beneath that. A freight train of slavering horror barreled into her, threatening to crush her beneath its noxious bulk. But she was adamant.

"Not one step farther!" she growled through gritted teeth.

Jan and Avery are wise to savor their times and memories together at this annual event.

Uh-oh, the scent of bad blood is in the air – neat how attuned Jan is becoming to Blood Raven that she knows this is not the scent of her fellow superhero.

You really injected a sense of speed and urgency into Jan’s sprint for the Stormcycle and her armor.

Stormcrow’s flying ability has gradually become second nature to her! You 'showed' this incrementally over many episodes and it is a big milestone for her.

Ugh-Yikes! A spider the size of an SUV!

Strength of the Earth, don’t fail her now!

How suddenly Jan and Avery’s day turned into a job for a superhero!


Nits:
’Before she could hit it face first, she rolled back, and feathered out her wings flat to her angle of descent.’ - - I’m sure you’re describing a flare here but it seems like something Is missing in your wording during the last part of this sentence. Feathered out her wings flat to stop her rate of descent (or rate of closure) perhaps?
’Then she trigged off the wings, …’ - - triggered?

Seeing the friendship between Avery and Jan grow stronger is great! He's a true ride-or-die friend, always with her, even in the smallest moments when he focuses on their time together instead of the number of men wanting to chat up Mr.Beef. He's just the kind of person Jan needs in her life. A true friend who understands things she does, despite sometimes having different views on certain things. While Blood Raven serves as the mentor, Avery is that life-long ally/partner/best friend. She is very fortunate, one might even say blessed.

It stank of cruelty. It stank of horror, and corruption. It felt like the universe was being thrown upside down, torn up, and perverted in some very basic, and very terrifying way. This was such a chilling description!

Stormcrow is back at it again, and while she's not facing robotic menaces . . . she's up against a fiendish spider. If I had a severe case of arachnophobia, I would shut down my laptop right now. I instantly pictured those frostbite spiders from Skyrim, or LOTR's Shelob(more appropriate because of the stinger).

Both an exciting and terrifying stand-off between hero and creature! I'm excited to see how Storm and Gadget are going to kick this spider's abdomen!

I really need to check out Supergirl. My daughter has watched a couple episodes, and now that she's forced to stay home for the next week and a half (maybe seven more weeks) she's probably catching up on other episodes. But i myself need to check it out too. I was wondering if you'd approve of this show, you would know if it's done "right" or too cheesy or whatever.

I think that's so neat that everything up there is Eight Mile, Nine Mile, and so on. I have no idea what this means, but I am guessing eight or nine miles outside of downtown? All I know is that movie with Eminem.

What are deets? Digits? As in phone numbers?

I have a feeling she can adopt as many pets as she wants now, especially cats. Doesn't Raven's house have tons of room? There ya go, hon!







Uh oh. What? What could it be? Oh no, a giant spider! Frak. How is she going to get out of this one?

Acadian: That was a nice Stand By Me moment with the pinky swear. At least I think I stole the idea from there... Seriously though, Jan and Avery's relationship is changing due to the reality of growing up, jobs, significant others, capes, they all push and pull in different directions.

Jan has not finished improving her flying abilities. Chapter 5 will see a dramatic evolution in that regard.


Darkness Eternal: Jan and Avery are definitely ride or die friends. They literally knew each other since they infants, as the lived just two houses apart.

The spider that was summoned is not a 'normal' being from Earth, which is I went so much into the sense of wrongness and of reality being turned upside down. It is a monster from Outside, in the full Lovecraftian sense of the word. We will be getting into more of that later.

I have more than a small case of aracnaphobia, which goes back to an incident in my childhood where a spider featured only tangentially. Basically I was about 3 or 4 years old (it was before I went to kindergarten), and my brother and I were scared by a spider. My father proceeded to beat the crap out of us, because we were scared by a spider. I really should not blame the spider for that. He was just chilling, doing spider things. But they still creep me out to this day. However, I have been making an effort to dial my phobia back. So now when I see a spider I don't kill it. It is also why I made this particular monster a spider, instead of a list of other creatures of folklore that I have.


Renee: The Mile Road system is one of Detroit's unique features. They run east to west, at one mile intervals. Technically it starts in the heart of Downtown at Campus Martius. But the mile numbers don't start showing up on road signs until about 5 Mile. Each Mile road has a regular name too, sometimes more than one. 16 Mile is also Metro Parkway (it goes straight into the Metro Beach State Park at its eastern end), and it is Big Beaver. 15 Mile is also Maple, and so on. 20 Mile is also Hall Road, or M-53 (state highway). No ever calls it 20 Mile. Most people usually say M-53, and only occasionally Hall Road. 8 Mile is the northern border of the city of Detroit proper, and the suburbs to the North. So it is a major dividing line in the Metro Area.

"Deets" are details. Your daughter would know. It is phone numbers, email addresses, social media IDs, anything specific really.

She does have room in the Witch House for critters. But she is not really in a good position to take care of them. Especially since she cannot take them to the vet on a motorcycle.






Dvergr

Since Avery and his Gadgets figure so highly in this episode, listen to his theme while you read = The Score - Unstoppable



Book 4.8 - Pride

The giant spider's eight eyes locked on January's. They were not the comforting emerald of trees and grass. These were the sickly green of toxic waste and radiation. There was a coldness there, an utter alienness that chilled January to the bone, and set the hairs on her neck standing on end. Worse of all, there was an intelligence within those fiery depths, calculating like a homicidal computer. It gazed into her, just as she gazed into it.

"They are the Creatures of the Abyss, things best left to the darkness, lest they rise up and engulf you."

Blood Raven's words from the previous weekend rose unbidden in her mind. Somehow January knew that this was one of those creatures from the Abyss. It was a thing that had no place within the sunlit realm of Earth.

The monster reared up on all eight of its massive legs. It tried to pull back from January. But her feet did not move from the street. She held it there, pinned in place. Then it rocked forward, trying to throw her back. Again, she did not move. She was adamantine.

It reared again, but this time it was not to escape. Instead it drew up high enough that it could whip its abdomen forward, underneath its thorax. January saw the great spike of its stinger just a moment before it could strike her.

"Now water can flow, or it can crash."

January heard Bruce Lee's words in her head. She became water. She flowed out of the way, and the stinger passed harmlessly by. Moving like lightning, the monster stung again, and again, and every time January slipped aside. It was as if reality itself bent to accommodate her will.

"I have had enough of you," January growled. Putting all of her will into the strength of her arms, she pulled the two giant fangs apart, baring the monster's wide face before her. She let go of the Earth, and leapt up high, still holding the fangs in either hand. When she was even with the spider's head, she kicked out with all of her might, and pulled back with her arms.

Her feet sank into multiple eyes, and she heard something crack and tear under her fingers. She pulled hard, and groaned, then finally screamed with effort. She felt something snap, once, twice, and then she was flying through the air with the giant spider's fangs in her hands, completely shorn from its face.

It stumbled back, nearly losing its balance on its eight legs. She heard something, not in her ears, but in her mind. It was a terrific disturbance in the magic around her. It was a reverberation, a shout, a scream. It was pain. It was the spider's pain, reaching out into the world of magic and spirit.

January did not waste any time. She dropped the two gooey fangs and leaned down to gather up Freddie Mercury. Once she had tight hold of him, she leapt back across the parking lot, over numerous cars, and into the bed of a pickup truck.

"Well, I guess it's not an illusion," she heard Gadget note dryly.

She looked back at the spider, and her stomach sank when she saw that it had both of its fangs back. A glance down showed no sign of the pair she had ripped from its face. So she imagined it had somehow reattached them, and healed them. It no longer screamed in the spirit world either. Instead it leveled those eight burning eyes upon January, and came at her with a vengeance.

January pulled out the adhesive bomb that Gadget had given her just a few hours before. She prayed to Freyja that he had the same skill as the dvergr who had forged Mjölnir, among other marvels. She pulled the pin and threw it at the monster's feet.

A blue haze sprang out along the ground in a circle around the grenade. The faint light spread through everything it touched, including the eight legs of the spider. The monster stopped for the briefest of moments, as if it had struck a brick wall.

She saw those emerald eyes turn down to the emitter of the adhesive wave that held it in place. Then it did something that made January blink in disbelief. Its body seemed to wink from the physical world, like a ghost giving up its shell. Yet January could still see it with her eyes, like a ghost. It struck out with one leg, and pierced the adhesive grenade with its spiked tip.

The grenade shattered, and the blue adhesive wave blinked from existence.

Now January realized that it had somehow made its form intangible, all in an instant. For further proof of this ability, it charged straight through the cars that lined the edge of the lot as it made a bee line for January.

"That is so not fair," January heard herself murmur.

"Drek!" Gadget snarled in her ear. "Left front pocket on your belt, let's give all those eyes something to look at."

January reached down into her utility belt, and drew forth another grenade. This one had a sunburst painted upon it. She pulled the pin and tossed it in front of the oncoming train of horror. January turned her head away and screwed her eyes shut just in time. The world turned bright white, even behind her closed eyelids. The blaze of light strobed on and off several times before it finally abated for good. Even though she had not been looking, spots still danced in front of her eyes.

She turned back in time to see that the spider had come to a stop. It turned this way and that, and did appear to be blinded, at least for a moment. January took advantage of that, and leaped forward. Her feet hit the monster's back hard. Its exoskeleton was as tough as steel, and covered with short, bristly hairs that set her teeth on edge. January took two steps along its abdomen, then leaped into the air again as it thrashed around and tried to swat her from the sky.

She landed back in the street behind it, away from the parking lot and the people there. It immediately turned to glare at her.

She held one hand out, and contemptuously curled her fingers inward, beckoning the spider toward her.

"Valhalla awaits," she growled through gritted teeth.

It took the bait, and ignored the hundreds of people in the lot and the thousands further away on Nine Mile. It leveled those eight eyes upon her and charged. January leaped back to the far sidewalk, drawing it out of the lot and back out into the empty street.

"Left rear pocket," Gadget's voice said calmly in her ear.

Following his direction, January withdrew another grenade. This one had a symbol like a pool of spilled liquid emblazoned upon it. She tossed it out into the street, and it erupted into a slick of grease that instantly spread across the road. The eight legs of the spider hit the frictionless surface, and went skittering madly in all directions. It would have been hilarious, if the thing had not been the size of an elephant.

It only lasted an instant however. The thing did its spirit shift, pulling itself from the physical to the mystical. Its legs found purchase on whatever the intangible equivalent of earth was, and came forward once more.

"Right rear pocket" Gadget said calmly.

January produced another grenade. She smiled when she saw the symbol of a flame etched on its surface. She tossed it beneath the monster, and it erupted into a fountain of fire. The grease immediately caught flame as well, doubling the intensity of the inferno that roared to life. The heat beat at January's face like a physical thing, and for a moment she was back inside the Flying Dutchman, racing against the flames to save as many lives as she could.

She blinked that memory away, and once again heard that screaming in the spirit realm. It was louder this time. Its shock waves were deeper and more powerful, as they disrupted the peace of the mystic realm. January really needed a name to call it. The Astral Realm perhaps? It was hard to concentrate with the screaming. But she gritted her teeth, and refused to allow herself to feel an ounce of sympathy for the creature.

It was not an animal. It was not of this Earth. It was an abomination, in the really old school, pre-Medieval sense of the word. January had not forgotten the blood and gore she had seen sprayed across its body when it had first appeared in the street. Someone had died under that thing's fangs, maybe more than one somebody.

That ended now.

The screaming stopped, but the flames still blazed merrily away, engulfing the street in a red-orange inferno. January did not like how close it was starting to spread toward the trees on either side of the road. She wondered how she was going to put this out, and thought about her new friends from Detroit Engine 66. They would be quite welcome about now.

"Right front pocket," Gadget said. January smiled when she saw what this present was. She tossed the grenade into the blaze, and was rewarded with an eruption of fire suppressing foam that completely smothered the blaze. White flecks of the stuff rose up into the sky, and began to fall down like snow.

"Have I told you how awesome you are lately Gadget?" January wondered.

"Not in at least six days," he remarked casually.

"Remind me to-"

January's words died like ashes in her throat. Something was moving in the cloud of fire retardant. Not just something, but a giant something, with eight legs. The massive spider boiled forth an instant later. It bore not even the tiniest singe, nor a single bruise, even after all it had been through.

"Son of a-" Gadget swore. "I'm out of clever tricks, time to do that hero drokk."

Wow, that spider thing is an incredibly resilient foe! So not fair is right!

Thank the Nine for Gadget’s intimate familiarity with Stormcrow’s pockets and his calm, timely instructions.

’She pulled the pin and tossed it in front of the oncoming train of horror.’ - - A wonderful description!

You weave flashes of Stormcrow’s thoughts into the actions wonderfully – very effect while not losing a whit of this scene’s fast tempo.

I was as excited at Stormcrow at the success of her Gadget-inspired grenadiering. . . until. . . uh oh.


Nits:
- - ’January head {heard} Bruce Lee's words in her head.’
- - ’Once she had tight hold of him, she leapt back across the parking lot, over cars numerous cars, and into the bed of a pickup truck.’ - - Not positive this is a nit but the first use of ‘cars’ seems perhaps unintentional here?

From the previous chapter, I meant to say it's too bad Freddy Mercury apparently isn't going to see the Killer Queen in action.

I am at work, and we have muzak playing, so unfortunately I can't listen to the superhero music you posted as I type this, not without turning my laptop's volume too high! EDIT: I tried again today. Yes, the music does make the fight scene come across like something in an actual movie.

Ah no, this thing has a stinger? Oh gosh, she's actually crushing the spider's exoskeleton parts slowly, just like somebody would crush a real spider with their shoe.

Where is Blood Raven? I have a feeling she's nearby, hence that coppery smell from previous chapter.



Awesomesauce! as Jan would say.*

.

Crap. That damn spider comes right back. See, I wonder what the heck? There's something in the story so far which is triggering a memory. I can't remember what it is, though. Maybe Blood Raven might know.

Heh, I use to be deathly afraid of spiders as well until I moved to Brazil. I kept tarantulas found my backyard in an old glass tank I was given. I learned to respect them, but they can be intimidating sometimes.

Appropriate song for this chapter!

The eight-legged freakish foe exuded some otherworldly menace for sure. That was a pretty chilling description of it, and size aside, this creature did not act on pure instinct but also cunning. Random thought but its origins from the Abyss reminded me of It that came to earth to feed on the fears of people.

The battle had me on the edge of my seat, and that was such a nasty but fearless move on her part, ripping away the spider's fangs . . . until it grew back and managed to survive that grenade.

Formidable indeed. Maybe toughest opponent yet. Despite Gadget's gear, which was very useful, the Astral Arachnid is still back for more.

Jan was just getting started, I'm sure

Acadian: The spider is very not fair. It is based on a "real" creature from Native American mythology, which has also turned up in a few TV shows. So folks might be able to guess what it is. It will be named in a few more episodes.

This episode was really Gadget's moment to shine, with all the new doohickeys he created to give January a ranged element. But this is a seriously dangerous opponent, so it won't be done in so easily. Not by January or Avery.


Renee: Freddie can still hook up with the Fat Bottomed Girls at the festival afterward though...

It has more than just a stinger, as we will see in this episode. The spider is full of some really serious powers. January probably won't face a more dangerous single opponent again until Chapter 6.

That coppery smell was not Blood Raven that January sensed. She noted at the time that it was different from Blood Raven's magical aura. Rather January could feel that it was someone being murdered in a really horrific and magical way. We will get to exaclty what in several more episodes.

Blood Raven will know exactly what that memory was that is being triggered. Or you could look back to episode 3.15...


Darkness Eternal: You hit the spider's origins right on the nail. It is not from this Earth, or even this Universe. It is a fully Lovecraftian Other, from a reality of darkness and horror. As you said: The Abyss.

January is just getting started. This will be a long battle, and will take several more episodes before it is finally vanquished. As I mentioned to Renee, it is the most dangerous thing January has ever faced, or will again for a while.





January's Fight Music

The Battlefield near Pridefest

The house shot up by Freddie Mercury

Old Futhark



Book 4.9 - Pride

Then the horror was on top of January, fangs slashing down at her head. As before, she reached out and grabbed them. She stopped them in mid-blow, and held the massive beast there. It crowded in on her, trying to bring its main legs to bear. One of them went spearing down into the pavement beside her, cracking the blacktop apart. Then came another, and another.

It was time to be like water. Hanging on to its fangs at first, January did a back flip up into the air. She let go at the top of her arc, and spun out over the spider's thorax. She came down on top of its back a moment later, and punched with the force of a hurricane. The monster's back plate shattered like balsa wood struck by a missile. Her fist plunged deeply into its soft, gooey innards. A blue liquid, like blood, splashed over January, and the street all around. She grabbed hold of something solid within the creature, and ripped with all her might. She was rewarded with a jagged slab of spider meat, that she hurled to the pavement.

She heard that scream in the astral again, and forced herself to ignore it. Then she felt the monster rear up. Too late she saw its abdomen come racing toward her, and she could not slip aside before it connected. It hit her like a truck, and the next thing January knew, she was hurtling through the air.

She felt bricks shatter under her back. Then a room spun around her. She got hold of her flight, and managed to skid to a halt in a crouch, both feet and one hand on the floor. The world swam for a moment, but she blinked it back to stability. It was no different from leaping from the uneven bars. Except for the spider and building of course...

January realized that she was in the pub at the corner of Nine Mile and the side street headed south. A long red bar ran at an oblique to her left, and a bright red wall was covered in posters behind that. To her right a line of booths lined the other wall. All around her were thick, heavy wooden tables. TV sets hung along the tops of the walls. She noticed them cut away from various sporting events to show the street outside, and the giant spider that advanced upon the back of the pub.

The bar was packed of course. It was a miracle that she had not splattered someone on her way in. As it was, she had knocked two tables over, and cracked a third one in half. Everyone drew away from her as she rose to her feet. A glance down showed that she was a fearsome sight, covered in blue spider innards and red brick dust.

"Anyone not keeping up on current events, better head on out the front," January said quietly. Then she focused her eyes on the giant hole she had punched in the wall beside the back door. Through it she could see all eight green eyes of the spider burning down upon her.

She did not bother using the door on her way out. She leaped through the same hole she had made coming in, and was in the back lot in less than a second. Her feet barely touched the concrete before she lifted herself in the air once more, and cocked a fist behind her head for a killing blow at its face.

It spat a blob of grey-white gooey material from its abdomen. January was in mid-leap. She could not dodge away like before. It struck her full in the chest, hitting her with the force of a thousand Louisville sluggers. It actually stopped her forward momentum, and threw her back to the pavement.

She tried to rise to her feet, but found that her legs were bound up in the sticky, goopy mess. So too were her arms. She pushed and pulled at the webs that entangled her with all of her might. But they were like rubbery glue. They bent with her motions, not rigid enough to ever break. It was like trying to snap a wet noodle with a blade of grass. All she could do was writhe and wriggle.

The spider came walking up to her, eight legs clicking on the concrete of the street. It took its time, clearly savoring the moment. Those eight eyes mocked January, and she somehow knew that this had not been an accident. It had set her up to make that leap, and was waiting with the webbing. Waiting for just the time when her feet were no longer on the ground, and she could not dodge. She had been out-thought, and now she was going to die.

The rain pelted her, and lightning scattered across the sky overhead. At least it would be out here, in the elements.

But January still had one last card to play. She remembered that arcane bolt that Blood Raven had been trying to teach her all week. She had yet to master it. This would certainly be a good time. January reached down and tapped into the torrent of mana that now stewed within her. She raised it up, and once again witnessed the elements flash and roar across the sky.

She laughed, and let the mana slip down for a moment. The lightning! She had been such an idiot. People said that she was the Weather Witch of Warren. Why had she believed them? It wasn't the weather that she affected, it was the elements!

She used Air to fly. She used Earth to stand adamant in the face of overwhelming force. She used Fire to transform into her armor. She used Water to dodge attacks. Everything she did magically, was all about using one or more of those forces and what they symbolized.

The spider paused in its advance, seemingly hesitant at January's mad display of bravado. She took advantage of that to begin to chant in Old Norse. Golden light sprang up around her, and formed into a string of Old Futhark runes. They formed a circle at her feet, and slowly rose up into the air around her. She felt her consciousness shift, and the energies of the astral swirl all around her.

"Vindr, leggjmikr þinn leiptr!" she cried in the Old Norse tongue. She hoped she got it right, and was calling upon Air for lightning. Otherwise she was going to wind up really embarrassed.

The sky lit up with a blinding crack of electricity. It drove down straight into both January and the spider, which now loomed over her. The world turned to fire, light, and deafening thunder. Her hair stood on end, as the elemental force ravened with calamitous delight. It chewed up concrete and sent the ragged fragments hurling up into the sky. It blazed through exoskeleton and flesh, and filled the world with the stench of ozone.

Then came another lightning strike, and another. By the fourth one January had climbed to her feet. The webbing that had encased her had long since been incinerated in the electrical storm. Her heart raced. No, it sang, as the thunder blasted overhead. She felt herself washed in arcing power. It dancing down her arms, leaped across her fingertips, and glowed in her retinas. She was fire, she was air, she was the storm!

She was completely unscathed by the electrical holocaust.

"Holy spit January, did you just do that?" Gadget's voice brought her back down to earth. "Good thing I hardened all the circuitry in the suit after you fought Archie…"

January clamped down on the flow of mana within her, and the storm quieted to a mere shower of steady rain. She found herself standing within a crater blasted through the concrete and steel rebar of the road, and down into the earth beneath. Deep down in the center of that pit lay a blackened and burnt husk, with eight broken legs pointed skyward.

"Blood Raven was right," January heard herself murmur. "I can't do it her way. I have to find my own magic."

"Speaking of that, she's on the way," Gadget said. "But maybe I should call her back and tell her not to bother?"

"No, she needs to see this." January climbed up from the pit, and stood up at the edge. Electricity still danced between her fingertips, and played about the ends of her hairs. She held onto that, just in case she might need to use it. There was still the matter of who, or what, had summoned the monstrous spider.

She saw that a crowd had gathered, but far away. Some were clustered up at Nine Mile, peering beyond the corner of Rosie O'Grady's pub. Others were sprinkled through the far end of the parking lot, way to the east. All eyes were upon her, and many hands held up phones.

A news van was parked down the opposite end of the side street that she was on, in the suburbs to the south of the festival. One of the crew had a camera trained upon her. Another had a pack of electronic equipment slung under her arm, connected to a pair of headphones that she wore. Finally a blonde stood to one side and spoke into a microphone.

Did everyone have to take videos of everything? Did life even exist before there were pictures to prove that it had happened?

She turned from the cameras and went back to work. Her eyes fell upon the broken fence, and the bullet holes in the house adjacent to the street. She walked purposely toward the white, two-story abode, and waved to a trio of police officers who raced down the street from the festival with pistols drawn.

Like most Queer folk, the sight of three cops with guns drawn would have once made January fear for her life. But that time had long since passed. Being shot was the least of her worries these days. She waved them toward her, then gestured to the bullet-ridden home.

"We need to search that house, and the others around it," she called out to them. "There might be wounded inside."

Or dead. January did not say the last. She did not think she had to. Freddie Mercury had meant the best when he emptied his gun into the spider. He never could have imagined that his bullets would pass right through it, and into the house behind the monster. That was the problem with weapons of all kinds. Even with her martial arts training. They had a tendency to do things their owners never intended.

Discipline, self-control, January thought to herself. She had to keep a lid on herself, so she never did that. She ran over her elemental mantra in her head. She calmed her beating heart, soothed the blood that pounded in her veins, and washed her mind clean with mana.

Spiders have never bothered me, even as a kid, even those huge garden spiders with psychedelic coloring. Now centipedes on the other hand..... I literally just got the crawlies linking that picture up.




Har har.

Good, so in Chapter 3 there is a reference to Boris the Indestructible Spider, eh? Sweet.

The music fits perfectly. Gosh, she's really tearing into that thing this time!

That is awesome when she has that moment. She realizes it's not the weather, it's the elements. Wow. She just made a Storm Call. There's a shout in Skyrim called Storm Call (or Call Storm). Also, druids in the old tabelgames could do this.



I know Jan, right? Even you as a millennial gets this.

I'd say the fault is not with Freddy Mercury, even if he did hit someone else. He only had split seconds to react to something nobody has ever seen before, here in Detroit.