Like you, I now draft my stories before ever deciding to post them so am well familiar with the prospect that it can easily take six to eighteen months of posting at once a week to get it fully posted. That works for me because I like to take a break from writing between books and devote tons of time to editing and editing and editing some more while in the posting phase.

As a reader, I’m with Renee in enjoying a once a week episode over more frequent postings for the same reasons that she cites. I also enjoy slowly savoring an episode, typically while eating my lunch. Following multiple writers who post more than once a week begins to turn reading from a magical bit of enjoyment into a bit of a chore. There was a time here at chorrol that we had exactly that and, though I kept up, I wrestled a bit with resentment over the time it took.

That said, I am somewhat conflicted because I also believe my job as a reader is to fully support my fellow writers at whatever their creative objectives are and can imagine the frustration when your posting backlog starts pushing a couple years.

So. . . that all said, know that whatever you decide, I will continue to fully and enthusiastically support your efforts – just as you have steadfastly supported Buffy since before we even moved to chorrol.

*

Ah, the smells of Cinnaton, with WNN droning in the background about the near end of the world and love lives of superheroes.

What a welcome meeting with Scoopy Doopy and his adoring fan handler! A welcome light moment to punctuate Stormcrow’s serious thoughts about trying to rebuild Belle Isle. I had a great dane who died about 20 years ago. He was a wonderful dog. A dignified gentleman whose size and commanding presence alone discouraged challenges or unpleasant behavior from people or other animals. And a serious chick magnet of course.

Yah, me too.

Given my own twice-a-week posting schedule, I certainly wouldn't object!



Hell, even the ones who do bow and scrape end up getting the same treatment if it's convenient for him to do so. That's the thing with bullies; you can't trust them, and there's no way to make them happy.

Nice scenes of January taking stock of herself and her situation. It's not an easy situation for her--but she's strong enough to handle whatever comes her way. Also, you put in a lot of detail for the architecture, which is something I've noticed before. You seem to know a great deal about the subject.

Helping out with the rebuilding could be a good publicity move for the team. Definitely something worth looking into, in my opinion.

Wait... is this a Scooby-Doo crossover? Since I know Shaggy's first name is actually Norville, and that Matthew Lillard played him in the movie. I'm surprised I picked up on this, since I've only ever really watched Mystery Inc. Really curious to see how this turns out!

Renee: This is set in 2019, so consider who was the president at that time. I picked an exact quote of his from when he withheld Covid relief from Michigan. I only changed it slightly to add the transphobic comment about January as well. A Democractic governor and state are the last things he approves of, let alone a super team made up of trans, gay, Black, Asian, and First Nations people, and led by a woman.

The Shaggy guy and the dog know that she is Stormcrow, that is all.


Acadian: Last week and this week's episodes are a nice little respite from supering and magical studies. Great danes and all. Sorry to hear about your dignified gentleman. Dogs are wonderful friends.


WellTemperedClavier: I recall seeing a cartoon of that particular president that showed him standing on a rotating platform, while a new employee rolls in on a treadmill around him. It starts with him shaking their hand, and ends with him stabbing them in the back on their way out. Something his many press secretaries could attest to.

One of the advantages of using a real world setting is that I don't have to invent locations whole cloth. Instead I can just pick a place and describe what I see. Whenever I can I find articles about the buildings in question, that talk about their construction. Otherwise I have trouble telling one architectural style or material from another. I have learned a lot in the process though, and I keep a text file with just architectural terms, like cladding, row houses, etc...

The podcast Well There's Your Problem has helped me a lot too. They talk about engineering disasters, and sometimes those are about buildings. I take notes when they talk about various structural elements. It helps that the YouTube version of their show has slides, so you can see what they are talking about.

We will circle back to Belle Isle in the next book, when January and company do indeed take direct action to clean up the mess left behind from the battle. Renee will be pleased, as I am taking one of her suggestions about some people wanting to build condos there.

It's not really a crossover. It is more of an homage to Scoobs and Shaggy. That is why I changed Norville's last name to Lillard (and that is of course an homage to Matthew Lillard), and why the dog is named Scoops. I just wanted to feature an interaction between January and someone from the general public, and Scooby and Shaggy came to my mind for some reason which I honestly cannot comprehend. So I made my own lawsuit-safe version of them, and dropped them in for this one time appearance.

However, an actual Scooby/Crow crossover - a Crowsover if you will - would be a ton of fun. Especially if the Mystery Incorporated crew stuck to the old format of proving that the supposed supernatural activities that they encountered were just cynical frauds. They might be out there weeding out all the fakes. Then Jan and company could swoop in and handle the real wraiths and wights and liches.

When I was a children, I used to watch the original Scooby Doo show from the late 60s or so all the time, as it was always on in reruns. I have never really seen any of the newer content, except for one of the live action movies. Matt Lillard was perfect as Shaggy in that, and I have read he voices some of the newer animated incarnations. That man is a treasure. I loved him in 13 Ghosts. I am going to try and check out Mystery Incorporated now that you suggested it.


All: I am still not sure about sticking to once weekly or a biweekly format. The current book should run until the end of the year I think, and the one I am working on right now to probably this time next year. So its a big backlog. But at the same time, I don't want to make reading it a chore, because I do understand that we all have other things on our plates as well. I cannot keep up with all the fiction on this site as it is myself.

Oh, and I finally came up with a name for January's finishing move elbow drop: Ragnarok. Because when it drops, that's the end. It will make an appearance next Book.





Blackjack

This Machine Kills Fascists

Evan And Jaron - Crazy for This Girl - Inspiration for Crazy for this Crow



Book 11.11 - Raven Sisters

January's eyes set upon a familiar bearded face among a gaggle of new arrivals that streamed in from a nearby boarding ramp. His fair skin was smooth and unblemished, the only clue that he was only twenty - just six months older than January. Otherwise the beard made him look much older. A definite bonus when teenagers wanted to buy beer. A mess of brown hair threatened to fall across his soft hazel eyes at any moment, and an impish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

His rotund frame was clad in a pair of jeans and a button down shirt. It was a pair of clean jeans. January knew that meant he was dressing up, along with the shirt. Normally he wore ripped pants and band shirts. Slung over his shoulders was a worn out backpack, which competed for space with his scratched and dented guitar case.

January could not help but to smile as he came nearer. Along with the other Knights of Nerddom, she had known him since they were children. They had been friends since the First Grade in fact, when she had gotten old enough for her parents to let her go as far as the next block over to where he and Rus lived.

She reminded herself to be cautious. He knew her in her real life as January. She had to be careful not to slip up and fall into any of their private jokes. Like their nicknames for one another. She would have to keep a certain distance, emotionally if not physically.

She also remembered something Ryo had confided in her. "He has been thirsty for you since you transitioned," Ryo had accidentally declared. "He just never said so, because, you know, the whole lesbian thing. He said it would make things weird."

Well, it was still weird. January had to remind herself that it was not anyone's fault. Blackjack had as much right to be attracted to her as anyone else. Even if it was not something she had ever encouraged, let along imagined possible. Ryo had also admitted that Blackjack felt the same way about Stormcrow, so at least he was consistent.

She just hoped that his eye would wander somewhere else soon. Maybe she could set him up with Silverlight or Blackhawk?

Then his eyes fell upon January, and she saw them widen with recognition. For a moment January's heart stopped. He had seen right through her. Clearly, he knew it was her - January - under the winged helmet, body armor, and wings. All he had to do was blurt it out by accident, and in a moment the entire planet would know that her name was-.

"Stormcrow!" he exclaimed, loud enough for people to hear at least a hundred feet away. Everyone else in the terminal stopped to stare, at least the ones who had not already identified her and pulled out their phones. January noted more than one of those with lights on and recording already.

She fought back a sigh. Everyone had to record everything as it happened. Did life not exist before video? Still, at least he had not read her after all. Her identity was still safe. The cape did wonders for that. No one ever really imagined that one of their friends was a superhero. Just as she had never imagined that her own brother could have been a supervillain.

Still, she knew that just six months ago she would be doing the very same thing herself. If it wasn't on the 'gram, it didn't happen after all.

"Hi!" January tried really, really hard to rein in her perky phone voice. As usual, she failed. "I was hoping to meet you Mr. Schwartz."

"Mr. Schwartz?" the round man made a show of turning to look around himself. "Is my father standing behind me?"

"Call me Blackjack, all my friends do!" her childhood friend continued. He thrust out a hand for her to shake. But the moment she slipped her fingers against his own, he leaned in with exuberance and hugged her. Thankfully it was not a creepy hug. He pulled away in just a moment, and clapped his free hand on her shoulder. His face was one giant smile, and his eyes shone brighter than the sun in the sky outside.

January could not help but to smile again. Blackjack was like that. His mood was infectious. He made you want to laugh by force of personality alone.

"Sure thing Blackjack," she beamed.

"Do you know who this is?" Blackjack stepped back a moment to look around at the crowd that had begun to gather around them. "This is her, I mean her. Stormcrow herself! The First Ally. The Lady of Lightning. The Empress of the Elbow Drop. The Feeder of Ravens. The Duchess of Dope!"

January nodded and tried not to laugh as he strung along even more titles, each stretching credulity further than the last. He should have been the hype man for a wrestling federation.

But she had to eventually cut him off with a wave of her hands. This was not supposed to be about her after all. This was supposed to be about him.

"Don't let him fool you folks," now it was her turn to address the crowd. "This is Jacob - Blackjack - Schwartz from Epic Fail. He's a hometown hero, a real life rock star."

"I came here because I was hoping to get a selfie with you," January now looked Blackjack directly in the eye. When she spoke next, it was with absolute honesty. "I love your song. With everything that has been going on in life lately, it's been a ray of sunshine. Seriously, it made me happy. It made me laugh. It made me forget the rest of the world, even if just for a few minutes. You really helped me get through the last few weeks."

"Aww... well... I... um," the musician stammered, seemingly overwhelmed by the praise. Or perhaps from its source? January was keenly aware of how the armor, and wings, and everything, made her appear to be larger than life. She knew how ordinary that she was. But other people often did not.

"I saw you on the Helen show," January went on. "I heard you were on the Really, Really Late Show too. But I haven't had the chance to watch yet. I'm sure someone will post a clip online. Do you think you might do some work in Hollywood, in movies or TV? You really are great in front of a camera."

"You think so?" Blackjack looked wide-eyed at the continued praise.

"I know so," January insisted. "You are much better than I am! I should take lessons from you! Now how about that selfie?"

"Yeah, sure, I mean, I'd love to!" Blackjack nodded. He set down his guitar case at this feet, and fished into his pants for a smartphone. It was not a dirt cheap model like January owned, but nothing truly fancy either. The plastic case that ensconced it depicted the fictional space hero Jet Gladiator, and his pet dino-alien Boo Boo.

He fumbled over the screen, and soon enough opened up the camera app. January edged in close to him as he held the phone aloft, as far away as his arm could reach. Then he began snapping photos. He could not resist being himself, so he quickly began making funny faces, scrunching up his nose, squinting with one eye and bugging the other one out, etc... January could not help but to laugh, and found herself making the same ridiculous faces.

"How about a song?" a voice rang out from the gathering crowd asked.

"Yeah, play us Crazy For This Crow!" came another voice.

More people called on Blackjack to play. He nodded and put away his phone, then moved over to the lounge area. January and the rest of the crowd followed along of course. He popped open his guitar case to reveal an acoustic guitar that was as scratched and beat-up as the case itself was. Scrawled around the wooden body of it were the words: "This Machine Always Kills Fascists".

January smiled. Woody Guthrie would be proud.

Blackjack took a seat on one of the lounge chairs and took a few moments to adjust the strings. The awkwardness that the musician had shown before vanished entirely. Here he was in his element. When the guitar was tuned to his satisfaction he set off into his current, only, and greatest hit: Crazy For This Crow. Though January certainly hoped it would be the first of many.

"I look at her, but she looks through me,
What will it take for her to finally see?
While she goes on to take a stand,
I wonder if she'll understand?
I'm crazy for this crow!"

The lyrics spilled from his tongue like silver from a jeweler's forge. Well, maybe it was not quite so astounding. Perhaps his vocal and playing skills were merely adequate. But his enthusiasm, his passion, they burned like plasma erupting from the sun. January could not help but to smile, and she let the humorous but also empathetic song lift her spirits to those same stellar heights. On one hand it told a simple story of a star struck man, who somehow never managed to catch the eye of the superheroine he was infatuated with. On the other it was filled with enough humor that it did not feel creepy or stalker-like.

"I wish I was a girl,
so I could be her girl,
I'm crazy for this crow"

The audience sang along, nodded to the words and slapped their hands against their thighs in time with the music. Someone manned the piano, and began to play an accompaniment to Blackjack's otherwise lone guitar. It was over all too soon, and the audience called for more. So Blackjack obliged, and launched into one of his older Epic Fail songs, about a man seeing an alien while sitting on the toilet.

January realized that for once she was in public, in her super suit, and no one was paying attention to her. All eyes were riveted upon Blackjack. That made her grin even wider, if such a thing were possible.

She had come here simply because she knew that Blackjack had wanted to meet Stormcrow, and get her feedback on his song. This was far beyond anything she had expected, or could have even hoped for. Given all the phones held up in the air and recording, this had to at least make the local news. It might even go viral, just like his music video for the same song had done weeks ago. She hoped so, anything that could help the career of one of her friends along was a good thing.

There's Blackjack. I remember him. Been awhile. OKay yes, that's right, he had a crush on January. It's not so much awkward he feels hesitant because she's lesbian than they've been friends their whole life. Always weird when you know someone so well, in the sense that there's hardly any mystery. They know each other too well.

But.. that's how the guy feels. We can't always help what we feel.

Uh oh. He seems to recognize her as his friend. OOHHhh I get it. Nvm.



This is like when Tomal sent Daria that letter with all those titles on it!

She saw Blackjack on "Helen!" I love how SC is pretending not to know him. She's acting like a starstruck fan. 🤩 Heh, these are great lyrics, too.

His band's name is EPIC FAIL?? Spew!

Just like the previous episode’s Scooby encounter lifted Stormcrow’s spirits, so does her meeting with Blackjack. As a childhood friend and now fanboy of both Jan and Stormcrow, I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually does recognize her identity. If so, he is also probably savvy enough not to let the crow out of the bag.

Video footage of Blackjack and the famous Stormcrow on the evening news could certainly elevate the humorous musician’s name recognition and, hopefully, fame.

I'm familiar with the cartoon you mentioned, and yeah, it rings true.

Interesting! Unfortunately, I find it very difficult to listen to podcasts. It's not a content issue, it's more that I can't just sit there and listen to something. I have to be doing something. If I'm reading or watching a video, that keeps my eyes engaged so it feels like I'm active in some way (I'm not sure why listening with ears doesn't have this effect, but it doesn't). If I still had to commute to work, I could probably listen to a podcast on the way (since I'm driving and thus, doing something), but I work from home these days and it's rare that I have to drive more than 15 minutes at a time.

Ah, neat reference. So I have to level with you: for whatever reason, I actually saw very little Scooby-Doo as a kid, so it never made much of an impact on me one way or another. Some fans really like Mystery Inc, but others feel like it takes too many liberties with the source material, as well as being too snarky (though to me, it seemed more like a loving snark).

Anyway, on to the story.

I liked the character work here. I could really feel January's trepidation regarding Black Jack. I know what it's like to have someone interested in me when I don't return the feeling, and it's never a fun. Happily, this turns into a good moment. Black Jack's keeping things under control and decent, and the song is incredibly validating for January.

Though I agree with Renee: friends and family members might be able to pick up certain tells that a stranger wouldn't. If Jack knows or suspects that January and Stormcrow are the same, however, he's wise enough to keep that to himself.

Also liked the bit about January stressing about media attention. I can really sympathize with Blood Raven's stance on this sort of thing. If I were a superhero, I'd probably try to stay on the downlow and avoid media attention. But doing so would limit my influence, and January's own rise shows how important that sort of thing is these days.

All: Let's try this for a test, and see how it works out with releasing a post on Saturday that people have the weekend to read, and then one on Tuesday, that we have the rest of the week to get to. If it does not work, I'll go back to just Saturdays alone.


Renee: Yep, Blackjack has the crush on January, and on Stormcrow. He's consistent. Its messy, but that is life.

I took the lyrics to the real song Crazy For This Girl, and just changed them around some to get Blackjack's.

I had to workshop the name for Blackjack's band for a while. Eventually I settled on all the "epic fail" videos I was seeing floating around everywhere at that time, and decided that would be a good name for a comical music group.


Acadian: Right now I have been thinking that Blackjack did not recognize January. Just like January never imagined that her own brother was a supervillain, it's a big step to take to think that.

Blackjack will get some extra popularity thanks to this impromptu show and Crowppearance. Every little bit helps.


WellTemperedClavier: Before I started listening to podcasts, I thought I would be the same way as you describe. Now I listen to them constantly. I find that they are excellent for filling up the empty hours of the day. When I am making dinner, doing laundry, cleaning house, washing dishes, going shopping, driving in the car, waiting for an appointment, just doing repetitive tasks at work, etc... I even have a bluetooth speaker that I use to listen to while I take a bath.

Well There's Your Problem does have their episodes on YouTube. They have slides that usually show what they are talking about. So you can watch it on TV. That is how I normally do that one.

January is a Gen Z'r. She grew up always having the internet in her back pocket, always being connected and online. The media is an integral part of her life. In that time she has seen how easily it can be used to harm, and how powerful it can be to help people. So rather than butt her head against it in frustration, she is determined to make use of it, just as she would use a strong wind to help her fly.

Not that it is easy. Princess Diana is one of the people January is modeled after, especially when it comes to public events. She did not like them. She found them very stressful. But it was part of her job to be out there for events and press the flesh, so she gave them her all. Even if she was completely drained by the time she got home later that night. January is the same way. She'd rather fight a giant spider again than do another TV interview. But she has to, because she realizes how important using the media is to shape public perception.






As always, the Big Tire can be found on the Stormcrow Google Map

The Big Tire

The Big Tire Pic 01

The Big Tire Pic 02



Book 11.12 - Raven Sisters

Sága lit up, even as a familiar tone rang out through the ear pieces built into her winged helmet. January stepped through the crowd, trying to get out into the open, where it was quieter. At the same time she tapped the screen of her digital assistant, and saw that it was a team-wide alert. This was bad. Cray would not be sending one of those unless it was important.

Blackjack stopped playing, and all eyes turned to January. She was only vaguely aware of them however, as Cray's voice spoke in her ear.

"We've got some sort or meta disturbance in Allen Park. It's near I-94 and Southfield."

"I'm on it!" January crowed. "I'm at the airport right now. I'll be there in just a minute."

It wasn't an Abyssal summoning. That came as a stark relief. She was close enough that she would have felt it, even without the aid of the early warning network of poppets. She made a mental reminder to gather up the last of those from their hiding places across the state. Each had a direct link to both her and Blood Raven's auras. They were not the kind of things one wanted left laying around for too long.

She took a moment to wave to Blackjack and the others. Then she leaped high into the air and spread her wings. Above the heads of the crowd, she flew down the side passage to the main entrance of the terminal. There she was forced to land to pass through the glass doors of the building.

Beyond she found herself standing in a sort of tunnel created by the concrete and steel roof that ran over the five-laned roadway that ran directly across her path. She leaped skyward once more, and soared between the cars and trucks below, and the ceiling above. Thankfully the space between was two stories tall, leaving her plenty of room to flap her wings without striking anything above or below.

She turned up sharply the moment she cleared this ceiling. She had to, in order to avoid the concrete parking structure that rose high up into the air directly in front of her. She went completely vertical in the space between the two here, and rose straight up into the blue sky. The parking structure was just a few feet from her wingtips on one side, and the concrete roof to the other.

She rocketed up, and found that the ceiling on her left was actually an elevated roadway: a new street on top of the other street that she had just flown across. This too ran alongside the terminal, which had another set of entrances beside it. A curled awning stretched out from the long building to provide shade and protection from rain along the side of the road. To her other side the parking structure rose taller still. January had to fly several stories higher before she was truly out in the open, with nothing but blue skies all around.

Her heart soared, as it always did when she slipped free of the bonds of gravity and took to the air. Her new Blackwood-created helmet did not possess a quest-marker or heads up display, as Gadget's own powered armor did. But she did not need one. Interstate 94 was right there beside the airport. She turned her back to the many landing strips and taxiways of the airport, and instead set her face to the freeway.

She winged her way north, and reached the highway in just moments. Suburbia stretched out all around her. To one side was an area of light industrial buildings. To others lay wide swaths of suburban homes. A pair of small lakes, or perhaps large ponds, even lay flanked by open fields. This reminded her that while she was still technically in the metro area, this was definitely on the fringe where city turned to country.

January recognized Eloise a few miles to the north. She had fought Gola there just two months before. She could not make out much of the abandoned psychiatric hospital in the distance. But she did think she spied out construction equipment. So perhaps the man she had met there who had bought the place was indeed tearing it down, in order to build a haunted hotel of all things.

Still, she did not have time to let her mind wander. She had to focus on the here and now. That meant getting to the scene of the latest crime as soon as possible. To do so she now allowed her wings to fuse into her arms. That always gave her more power. Now that she was out in the open, she turned that power up to eleven. It was still morning, so she oriented herself toward the sun, and followed the divided highway to east. In just moments she found what she was looking for.

The interchange between I-94 and Southfield Road was a tangled mess of spaghetti masquerading as pavement. The highway curved to her left as it passed through the intersection, only to take an even sharper bend to the north afterward. Southfield was even more crooked. It reminded January of a boomerang, as it first curved one way as it ran under I-94, and then doubled back immediately afterward. A confusing tangle of on and off ramps stretched between the two and the other nearby surface streets, as if they had been spun by a spider on ayahuasca.

Adding to the confusion was a train track that ran parallel to I-94, at least before the highway passed the interchange and curved away to the north. This created a narrow pie-wedge of land between the two transportation arteries. At the base of this triangle of land rose up a billboard encouraging January to "Go Fae or Go Home", along with a depiction of a giant green bottle of Fae Cola.

Beyond this was a muddy pond or bog of turbid brown water. The ground soon turned to solid earth and grass however. Among the trees that rose up here was a small power substation situated beside the railroad tracks. The fenced in area consisted of a pair of electrical transformers and a couple of metal shacks, and looked completely deserted.

Across the wedge-shaped open space from this was a large foundation of gray cement. Rising from it was the biggest tire in the world. It stood eighty feet tall, and was set into a rectangular building at its base. That reminded January of the wheel chocks that held airplanes in place. The tire itself looked like, well, a tire. Its tread was black as a normal tire's, and the white sidewall lettering spelled out the name and website address of its owner: Royal One. A white plastic hubcap took up the center of the tire, with an upraised design that looked like a gear with diagonal teeth.

I-94 itself was a divided highway, with a wide patch of grass between each four-laned roadway. Occasionally rising from the long, serpentine island in the center of the road were tall metal pylons that sprouted streetlights. A thin, but steady trickle of cars and trucks ran along each side of the bifurcated expressway. The low roar of their tires rose up to January's ears from here, along with the rumble of their engines.

Standing within the middle of the eastbound side of the highway was a tall figure that immediately caught January's attention. It was hard to gauge its true size, for while it was bulky, it seemed hunched over. It was covered in brown fur, and wore some form of medieval armor plates of the same color. The metal covered its inhumanely wide upper chest and shoulders, left its impossibly narrow waist free, only to once again wrap around its thighs in numerous bands of the strange metal.

The creature held a massive flail in one of its taloned paws. As January watched, it swung this out in a great blow. This sent the three heads chained to its handle scything through the air. Each of these heads was formed into like a long, fat cylinder, whose outer edges bristled with spikes.

In some ways it reminded January of the classic Egyptian Pharaoh's flail. Except that was an object of exquisite craftsmanship; a thing of beauty meant to be admired. There was nothing elegant or delicate about this however. It appeared to be made of rough, black iron, and was cast into thick rods that bristled with wicked spikes. It was as if someone had taken a work of art, and corrupted it into one of brutal destruction.

A moment later these spiked heads smashed into the side of a semi-truck. They not only tore out long gouges down the length of its cab, but they also lifted that side of the big rig into the air. The massive vehicle reeled over on nine of its eighteen wheels, threatening to go crashing completely over onto its side at any moment.

Two cars were in the lane right beside it, directly in the path of the truck's impending fall. The one in front gunned its engine to try to outrun the careening truck. The one behind locked up its brakes and swerved toward the grassy island in the center of the divided highway. Horns blared, rubber squealed, and above it all January's heart roared like thunder in her ears.

She called upon Air to give her greater speed, and darted straight down for the semi. Right before her face could plant into the pavement below, she feathered back her wings, and pulled up sharply. Her face and chest smacked into the side of the truck's cab an instant later. Her feet scraped along the concrete underneath, before finally digging in hard and gouging out long furrows through the pavement.

Her arms were still attached to her wings. She stretched them to flatten against the side of the cab. That gave her more purchase against the tons of weight that pushed down upon her. It also pressed one of her wing's directly against the exhaust pipe that rose up vertically just behind the door. It was burning hot. Stick your hand in the oven without a mitt and accidentally grab a cookie pan hot. But January simply gritted her teeth and bore the pain. It was nothing compared to having molten lava spit upon you by a salamander after all.

The tilt slowed, and finally stopped as the massive vehicle began to reduce its speed. Just inches to her right was the fender of the car that had attempted to swerve away. While only a few feet to the other side was the rear bumper of the first car, which still tried to gun its way out of the path of destruction.

Through the side window of the truck she saw the bearded face of the driver staring at her in horror. Then he jerked his steering wheel over hard. The front tire that was still touching the ground seemed to catch something, and suddenly the entire semi heeled over to the right. All eighteen of its wheels crashed hard to the ground, and January heard explosions as some of them burst under the impact.

January hung on to the truck until it finally came to a halt in the middle of the highway. The two cars that had been in danger now sped past, out of the way. So too did a pickup truck that she had not even seen. She heard horns blaring all along the road behind her, and the screeching of tires furiously braking against the concrete.

January took a deep breath, and opened the door of the truck. The driver practically spilled out. He was a wide-bellied man with a gray beard and a weathered Tiger's hat. She took a moment to make sure he was unharmed. But while his eyes were wild, so far as she could tell he had no real injuries, even if he had been practically scared to death.

January could relate. Her heart ran faster than Usain Bolt in the hundred meter dash. She took another deep breath and centered herself. She felt the mana flowing cool and sweet within her, and allowed it to suffuse her body with power. Her elemental mantra ran through her head, and she focused her thoughts on her energy.

Earth give me strength, keep me grounded, protect me from harm.

Air give me quickness in body and wit. Let the weights of the world fall from me.

Water make me flexible in thought and form. Let me flow, let me crash.

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

Spirit weave all together in balance. Bring me peace.

"Go Fae or Go Home", along with a depiction of a giant green bottle of Fae Cola.’
- - This conjured an image of Wednesday Adams asking, “Is it made with real fae?”

Wow, what kind of monster is this who seems interested in some interstate bowling for cars and trucks? “Saga, what’s the beastiary say about this thing?”

A wonderful in-the-nick-of-time save of numerous lives no doubt. Superman makes such things look easy but in Stormcrow’s world things are grittier, with heel marks in the concrete and smokin’ hot diesel exhaust stacks.

I can't really listen to podcasts while I work or write, since that makes it too hard for me to pay attention. Multi-tasking has always been pretty difficult for me. Might be related to my ADHD.

But thanks for letting me know that one's on YT!

I've actually gotten more distrustful of tech as I've gotten older (and I'm an old Millennial); seen too many promises of how it would make things better go unfulfilled or otherwise awry (sometimes deliberately). But, like it or not, it's here. And younger people who are more immersed in it are the ones best positioned to get something beneficial from it.

Can definitely see the Diana resemblance.

Okay, so things are ramping up again. A hero's work is never done. Also, good thinking on the poppets.

Also, I like your descriptions of how complicated interchanges can look.

Huh, this is certainly an imposing creature. But not an Abyssal. Curious what's behind this.

Oof, sounds of collision definitely spark a pretty deep-seated reaction. And whatever this creature is, it packs a punch.

All right, that could have gone much worse. At least now the field's clear for January to take on this monster.

Acadian: I can absolutely see Wednesday Addams making that remark in the Crowverse! It was probably in one of the 90s Addam's Family movies, instead of the Girl Scout cookie remark.

This beastie definitely does not appreciate cars and trucks. Maybe he is a train nerd, like Decrepit? I did want to add some spice to January's save of the truck, rather than have it be as easy as Superman makes it look. She has to work harder than he does, and she suffers for it. That's one of the things that defines her. She's ready to sacrifice for others.


WellTemperedClavier: I don't listen to podcasts while writing either, or while doing anything that requires me to think. I only listen to them at times where I have nothing to really think about at all, and my mind gets bored. They help me fill up those empty parts of the day, and keep me engaged with something - anything - when I would otherwise be bored. But enough on all that!

I am not a big tech supporter myself, in spite of having worked in the tech industry for the last two decades. I remember when Twitter first came out. An online friend of mine told me about it, and explained how you could just say anything, like what you had for breakfast, and it would go out to everyone in your friends list. All I could think was how inane and moronic that was. The last thing I want to hear is other people prattle on about nothing. I just don't care. Sadly, that is perhaps the best use of social media, at least the least harmful.

Interchanges really can get crazy, especially when you look at them from the air. I don't know how they design those things. Maybe by dropping LSD and fingerpainting...

We will meet the creature up close today, and it really does pack a punch! It is actually one we have met before, in a manner of speaking.







The Michigan Dogman

The Big Tire Interior



Book 11.13 - Raven Sisters

But the creature that had caused this was still out there. She called upon Air once more, and used it to propel her up over the cab of the semi truck. She tucked into a forward somersault and rolled across the roof. A moment later she landed upon her feet on the other side of the vehicle. Her arms separated from her wings, and she raised her fists in a fighting stance.

The monster was just a few feet away, and closing in fast. Even with his dog-like head hunched down, he must have reached at least seven feet in height. His upper torso bristled with muscles beneath his thick mat of brown fur and armor plate. His arms were long and spindly, as were his taloned fingers. His legs were double-jointed, like those of a dog, and dark nails sprouted from his bared paws.

He was a hybrid of human and canine. It would have seemed strange to January, but she had seen this monster before, just a few days ago in fact. He had been one of the Hierophant's minions, that had gathered about her in the summoning circle. In fact, she had seen this very creature meet his untimely end at the hands of his own master.

The Hierophant curled a lip at the cryptid, and gestured a finger in the canid-monster's direction. A moment later a series of boils or bubbles began to appear all across the Dogman's hide. He staggered and fell to one knee. The flail that he carried clattered to the marble floor. After just a few more moments he writhed in agony, and his howls rang off the walls all around.

Then one of the boils burst open. Out crawled an army of beetles. Their legs clashed together in an unwholesome racket. Their mandibles flashed and bit, devouring all in their path. Another of the bubbles popped open, and another, loosing even more of the tiny creatures. In no time at all the Dogman was completely wreathed in the giant insects. He writhed and squirmed. But no matter how many he swatted with his claws, or bit with his teeth, hundreds more sprang from his flesh.

In no time at all the cryptid collapsed to the floor and fell still. There was nothing left but a writhing mass of beetles. With one small gesture of the Hierophant's finger, they skittered away in all directions. They poured past the assembled monsters, and in moments vanished into the darkened corners of the room. In just seconds they were completely gone. The only sign they or the Dogman had ever existed were a few bloody tufts of fur left upon the marble floor, and that giant flail he had carried, now awash with his own gore.

"Now, would anyone else like to renegotiate their contracts?" the Hierophant's voice still rang in January's head.

"The Michigan Dogman?" January gaped as the creature advanced.

The canine came to a halt directly in front of her. He lowered his flail, and for a moment his eyes seemed to comprehend her words. He looked around himself, and his mouth opened and closed, as if to form words. But nothing more than growls issued from the dog-like maw.

"But you're dead." January breathed. For some reason she felt herself transfixed by the sight of the creature. She still heard the sound of the Hierophant's voice in her head. But now that voice transformed into high-pitched screams.

The Hierophant's body was thrown to the ground, as if by some giant, invisible hand. Then that unseen force dragged him from his circle, and down the channel of runes toward the larger summoning circle at the center of the ritual. The wizard tried to escape. His fingers dug fruitlessly at the marble floor, and his feet kicked impotently against its smooth surface.

While he still had feet at least. Now his lower body stretched out to impossible lengths. Bones tore from their sockets, and flesh was ripped into long ribbons. Blood sprayed everywhere. The high-pitched scream echoed from his throat through it all. At least until that too became a welter of blood.

January stood frozen in horror, as she relived that terrible moment. She could not tell if it was a memory, or if she was there once more, experiencing it all again. It all felt so real. She could hear the screams. She could feel the cold marble floor beneath her. She could smell the blood in her nostrils, and taste it in the air.

The Dogman was not idle. The muscles around his eyes tightened, causing them to narrow into a malevolent stare. Fire seemed to rise up from within those eyes, a towering rage that would burn the world to the ground, if but given the opportunity. It was a palpable thing to January's magical senses. She could swear that she felt that furious power rise up within the creature, and from the weapon he carried.

He lashed out with a backhanded blow. January knew that she should be dodging, and slip out of the way of the oncoming flail-heads. She knew that she should be raising her forearms to block, or her wings to cover herself. She knew all of these things. But the screams of the Hierophant were still loud in her ears, and her body was rooted to the spot.

At least until those pointed rods slammed home into the side of her face. One of the decorative wings on the side of her helmet was sheared in two, and January saw its pieces skitter away across her eyes. Then pain bloomed in hot, fiery lances that stabbed through her skull at the impact. She tasted blood in her mouth, like coppery salt. The world spun, and she felt herself lifted up into the air and thrown across the breadth of the highway.

The black skin of the Big Tire rose up in front of her. Before she could use her wings to slow herself, or even regain her balance, she slammed into its face. She discovered that the body of the tire was not made of rubber when she crashed straight through it. Rather it appeared to be a shell made of numerous sections of black fiberglass, each half a foot thick. The one she had hit shattered into numerous jagged pieces both large and small as she finally came to a halt within the roadside attraction.

The interior of the tire was hollow. Down at ground level there was a large, mostly open space. A series of vertical and diagonal steel beams rose up from the concrete foundation to support the structure above. Just above January's head a set of I-beams fanned out horizontally to create the base of this structure. From that sprouted a forest of beams that crisscrossed in every direction.

At first it looked like a chaos of steel spaghetti. But soon January noted a method to it all. It reminded her of a Ferris wheel, with an outer cladding added on that made it look like a tire from the exterior. Here inside however, she could see how it was made of pie-shaped sections all welded together, and radiating out from a central core like spokes in a wheel. She could even imagine where the individual carriages would have been hung along the outer rim, had it been a Ferris wheel. She also noted a metal ladder that rose up to the top of the structure, and thought she saw a trap door in the ceiling there that must have led to the roof.

"Stormcrow! Are you ok?" Cray's voice rang through January's ears.

"I'm fine," she murmured. She rubbed her jaw with one hand. It was still in one piece. She spat red liquid. Now the wound-dew that she smelled and tasted was not just in her mind. It was her own. The sight of it turned her blood from ice to fire. Her lips contorted into a snarl, and she held her bloody hand out to the oncoming Dogman. She curled her fingers inward, beckoning him forward.

"Valhalla waits," she growled. Thunder crashed loudly overhead, and the sky outside briefly flashed as lightning skittered across the firmament.

The hulking canid charged through the hole that January had made. His head nearly brushed against the steel beams that crossed the interior of the tire above. That flail lashed out at January once more. She became Water, and flowed around it. The three heads of the flail sliced through a steel beam behind January, easily hacking it into numerous pieces.

Her reply was a spinning kick that crashed against the side of the monster's head. Its skull jerked to one side, and more blood splattered across the concrete and steel. January came down on both feet and crowded in close. That put her too near for the Dogman to strike with his flail. She took a page from Roberto Duran's book, and unleashed a swarm of blows into the creature's stomach.

He came back at her with a head butt, then with a knee lift. She was ready for each, and weathered the blows without a scratch. It would take more than that to do her in. She had been beaten up by the best of them after all. Then he got smarter and hopped backward. January pursued, but not quickly enough. He had opened up enough space to deliver a crushing push kick square into her chest.

She barely felt it. But the blow did send her flying backward once more. She sent her wings out and down out of reflex. She felt their lower tips dig into the concrete floor a moment later, slowing her retrograde motion. It was enough to keep her from sailing through the wall of the tire. But it was not enough to prevent her from snapping another one of those vertical support beams in two when her back plowed straight through it.

She heard the steel and fiberglass structure groan ominously overhead. That could not be good. Now she wished that the monster had thrown her outside of the attraction.

Uh oh. Back to work, it seems. Come on now, can't a girl enjoy one moment with a friend she hasn't seen in a while?

And she's off! -------- (I imagine this to be a huge CGI moment on the CW, just before the show cuts to a Tremfya commercial... ).

Is Fae Cola real? Or is it another clever way to avoid stating actual real-world product names, lest The Stormcrow be faced with litigation? Hmm. A Google search brings up Fake Cola. 🥤

Oh gosh.... what is this creature? Sigh. Can't these monsters and minions ever learn? Not to mess with Michigan? Earth give me strength, indeed.

Lol "Michigan Dogman?" Whoa, there's a Wiki article about it. "The first alleged encounter of the Michigan Dogman occurred in 1887 in Wexford County, when two lumberjacks saw a creature which they described as having a man's body and a dog's head.[2]" HOly cripes...

Still, Stormcrow has certainly faced worse adversaries, right? This Dogman seems nowhere near as tough to defeat, compared to those who have actually challenged Miss Crow in the past. I assume so, anyway.

This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 1 2023, 03:33 PM

An untimely flashback of the Dogman’s first demise at the hands of Higherpants. This leaves Stormcrow distracted enough to take the full force of Dogman’s next hit. Ouch!

I’m not sure if being inside the tire favors Stormcrow or her foe. She’s wise to get in close and counter the range required by his flail though. Time to get outta that tire now though.

Hey Cray! Put out a summon Lighthammer call!

I’m curious to find out if this is the same Dogman – returned to life somehow or perhaps a different one altogether.

I also used to work in the tech sector (Internet marketing, so maybe more peripheral to tech but still closely connected), and I reacted pretty much the same way. It also worries me just how centralized these platforms are. Hopefully Musk's ineptitude with Twitter will remind people how dangerous that sort of thing can be.

I'm really, really glad I don't work in that field any longer.

Okay, intense fight here! The dogman did make me think of the Hierophant's minions. Though I'm still curious as to why it's here. Did it somehow survive? Was there another? Are malign entities still filtering into the mortal realm? But I suppose those are questions for later. This is clearly a dangerous opponent, and right now it needs to be neutralized.

Also, it was a cool scene to have January bust through the tire like that, even if it wasn't intentional on her part. Definitely an example of local flavor becoming a part of the scene.

Renee: That action scene would be a huge CGI moment, as Jan navigates all the perils of flying in tight spaces, and then gets out into the open, where the city sprawls out before her.

I based Fae Cola, or FaeCo, on RL Faygo, which is made in Michigan. It's a favorite of the Insane Clown Posse's fans, the Juggalos. The Crowverse has their own version of both, the Mad Fae Corps and the Faegallos. They wear fake elf ears and face paint.

The Michigan Dogman is a RL cryptid from Michigan. When I filled out the ranks of the Hierophant's minions at Belle Isle, I tried to get as many RL cryptids like him, such as the Paulding Light and the Waheela, not to mention Gola, who is a Raven Mocker. There is even a song about it that was made in the 80s, and its pretty good.


Acadian: January's PTSD has caught her flat-footed, and she paid for it. The Dogman can really hit. January is also coming to realize that maybe fighting him inside the local attraction is not such a great idea. But now that she is in there with him, it might not be so easy to get out.

The Allies are indeed on the way. Keep your eyes peeled for reinforcements.


WellTemperedClavier: Who is the Dogman? is indeed the question of the hour. Eventually we will get to the bottom of it. But not for a while yet.

Blood Raven did intimate a long while back that the Hierophant's activities were likely to awaken slumbering magical creatures. Gola was one example. She had been lurking in the abandoned asylum for decades, not really doing anything but hibernating. Until the Summoner came and woke her up to recruit her. Then the haunted tour came along...

One of the nice things about using the real world as my setting is that I can make use of unique locations like the Big Tire to set events at. I probably would never make up a place like that on my own, given how unusual it is.






Book 11.14 - Raven Sisters

"Stormcrow, see if you can move this somewhere else," Cray's voice echoed her own thoughts exactly. "That muddy stretch of land between the highway and railroad tracks might be ideal."

January circled toward the same opening she had made coming into the roadside attraction. But the Dogman moved to intercept her, like a boxer cutting off the ring. He unleashed a new set of strikes with his flail. January dared not dodge them, lest he do even more damage to the tire's structural supports. So she became Earth, and grounded herself in place.

She was stone. She was the mountain. She was adamant.

While clearly magical, even the enchantments upon his weapon could not overcome this, January's most potent defense. Gadget liked to describe her as a tank, first and foremost. He was right. The whole reason she had learned to fight was so that she could defend herself from bullies. That remained her reason for fighting to this day, only now she defended others as well.

Drawing upon the Earth as she now did, she became that mountain that she visualized. She was harder than stone, harder than steel. She was inviolable: adamantine. The Abyss had not broken her. Neither would this Dogman. Whether he was risen from the grave - or an entirely new creature - this canid monster would not be the end of her.

The tire gave another loud groan overhead. That turned to a scream, as tortured metal gave way, and began to sag toward the ground. January lowered her defenses, and leaped beneath the nearest of the two damaged support beams. She put her body in the empty space where its center section had been torn away. She raised her hands, and grabbed hold of what remained of the beam overhead.

The structure pressed down upon her with tons upon tons of weight. She pushed back, pulling up the last reserves of both her strength and mana to arrest the fall. Eighty feet of steel and fiberglass fought against her. Sweat beaded her face, and it felt like her muscles were popping from the effort. But she held on.

The Dogman saw this, and let loose a triumphant roar. His eyes burned hot, and he closed in for the kill. He raised his flail once more, in a blow that January was sure would take off her head. But she did not flinch. She did not waver. She could not let this thing fall.

The Big Tire might only flop over and fall on its side. Or it might just collapse straight down on top of her and the monster. It was not a real tire. So January did not think it could roll. But on the other hand it did look a lot like a Ferris wheel from the inside. So there was no telling if it could indeed trundle along for some distance before finally crashing to earth. The freeway was right outside, and if January knew people, then she imagined they were already clustering nearby to get pictures and videos. She could not take the chance of any of them getting crushed under this mountain of steel and fiberglass.

Besides, she was not going to let this monster destroy one of the only landmarks her city had, even if it was just some soulless corporation's giant advertisement.

The Dogman did not see the dark, nearly insubstantial shapes that faded through the wall behind it, but January did. Once free of the fiberglass cladding that pretended to be the tire's rubber surface these forms solidified. Now that the light was able to find purchase upon them, they resolved themselves into two men.

Gadget stood tall in his suit of powered armor, made of blue and white painted nanotwinned cubic boron nitride plates layered over a base of black hagfish fibers. An audible hum followed him into the room, and a soft blue glow rose from the powered armor. He raised an open hand, and a bolt of brilliant plasma erupted from his palm. It slammed into the Dogman, and sent him careening away.

Beside him was Ôkami. The Japanese-American was clad in his own suit. This was made in the style of a samurai's armor. It was made up of a gray dragon silk bodysuit, with cubic born nitride strips above that were painted black and white. A Japanese-styled helmet with a wolf crest covered his head and mouth, leaving only the strip around his eyes bare. His katana was already in his hand, and January heard a wolf howl from its blade.

"Gadget, get on the other broken beam," Cray's voice barked across the team-wide frequency. "Ôkami, take care of that mangy mutt."

Gadget immediately darted to the first support beam to have been damaged. This was the one that the Dogman's flail had sliced through in multiple places. He clapped his hands down upon the steel. Blue light and a wave of heat rolled off of them, as he began to weld the beam back together with plasma.

"Ei!" Ôkami shouted as he leaped upon the Dogman. The magical cryptid rose to his feet and counter charged, bringing his flail around in a horizontal slash. Ôkami brought up Chujitsu. The chains of the flail wrapped around the katana's slender blade of meteoric steel. The pattern-welded blade had been forged by Blood Raven herself. Its dark steel bent, but did not break under the assault. Indeed, the bright silvery waves along its sharpened edge glinted in the light, even as the samurai faded to black.

While his sword remained physical, and thusly trapped the weapon of his opponent, the rest of Ôkami faded. He twisted and turned through the air, and faded right through the arm that the Dogman threw up to block his attack. A moment later his entirely solid boot connected with the monster's face.

The creature snapped back, and went sailing head over heels. Ôkami allowed his sword to fade now, freeing the flail from locking up with it. The Dogman hit the concrete hard, but after just a moment he began to slowly rise to his feet once more. Clearly, there was plenty of grit beneath that fur and fury.

"This isn't working," Gadget hissed through clenched teeth. "There are too many pieces missing. I need more steel."

The eighty foot structure groaned overhead, as if to emphasize his words. It began to sway toward the highway, and it was all that January and Gadget could do to pull it back onto an even keel.

"There's a lamp post outside that looks long enough, and then some," Cray noted in their ears. As ever, his voice was as calm as a motionless sea.

Ôkami glanced from the rising Dogman to the fiberglass wall that separated the interior of the roadside attraction from the outside world, and the lamp post in question. Clearly, he was calculating the odds of Gadget and January surviving if he left.

"Go! We'll hold on here." January grunted through gritted teeth. Then she lowered her voice, so no others could hear. "We'll have to..."

With that Ôkami faded like a ninja, becoming nothing but a shadow against the wall. Then not even a shadow. He was just gone. That left them alone with the Dogman.

The cryptid now pulled himself back to his feet. He stared after where Ôkami had disappeared. Then he turned his gaze back to January and Gadget. He raised his free hand to briefly cradle his forehead, where the high-tech samurai/ninja had just struck him. His fingers came away stained red.

But this did not drive him deeper into a rage. Instead the head wound seemed to have done the opposite, and shaken something loose. That blaze of rage that had lit the monster's eyes just moments before simmered to a low burn. Those eyes widened, and he looked wildly about, as if waking from a nightmare.

He growled, and after a few moments those canine ululations turned to human speech. At least the guttural sounds were close enough for January to discern the words.

"I didn't do this..." he gasped. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me!"

Ôkami came fading through the wall once more. Now he had several tall pillars of steel with him. Painted black, their top and bottom edges had been cut through with clean, horizontal strokes. He glanced at the Dogman for a moment. Then seeing that the cryptid was not moving, the Japanese-American man moved to Gadget.

Ôkami pressed one of the steel rods against the broken vertical beam. Gadget immediately set to welding the both steel beams together into a single support. All the while January stared at the Dogman, who continued to vacillate.

"Just slow down and breathe," she finally was able to force the words from her throat. She wanted to plant her fist into that creature's face. But she restrained herself. The entire structure would collapse if she stepped away for one. For two, she was wise enough to know that not all problems could be fixed through a judicious application of knuckles. No matter how much she might wish otherwise at times.

"Tell us what you remember," January continued. "We're not your enemies. No one here is."

The Dogman shook his head.

"No, this can't be happening," he cried.

With that he wheeled around, flail still firmly clutched in one meaty paw. With a burst of leg power, he bolted from the room, and vanished into the world outside.

January and the others could not follow of course. Not without the whole tire collapsing. She shook her head. Whether by intent or accident, it was the oldest supervillain ploy in the book. Endanger civilians by damaging a building or some other structure. That forced the heroes to divert their attention to that new disaster, allowing the villain to escape. It was frustrating to stand by while it played out, but January never once hesitated to follow through with her part of the nearly scripted dance.

They were white hats after all. This was the difference between them and the bad guys.

* * *

Cray does a masterful job throughout as the battlefield coordinator. I’m pretty sure, he conjured Gadget and Okami as well. Good choices since Cray couldn’t count on Stormcrow relocating the battle to the outside.

Ahah, so the dogman has been somehow encorcelled – more to follow on that I hope.

I liked Stormcrow’s reflection that she willingly fell into the villain’s escape ploy of endangering civilians to distract the white hat(s). I remember how the same ploy worked on her flawlessly during her first encounter with Lighthammer. And the next time a baddie tries it, the ploy will work again – that is who our Stormcrow is.

We can now add Epic Tire Savior to Stormcrow's creds.


Nit: ’January dared not doge them,’ - - Unless you are using a creative spelling during this fight with the Dogman, I’d respell doge.

Ah, that's the tricky part about arcane creatures; sometimes they stick around even when you'd rather they not.

Though this Dogman seems to have a story of some sort. Clearly he's distraught at being here, but it's not at all certain as to why. Wonder if that's going to tie into any contingencies left by the Hierophant. Or if maybe, the Dogman actually has some level of personality/willpower of their own.

The fight also shows how useful it is to have a team. Even January was having some trouble keeping the tire stable while also fighting off the attacks. Sometimes you just need another person (or two, or three).

If I may...? It doesn't seem as though Dogman is related to Natthrafn's underworld. I'm guessing that since Dogman is a part of local Michigan lore, he has to be included into the story. It'd be like if I wrote a modern story centered in Maryland, "Chessie" would have to be written in at some point. Or the Blair Witch.

Insane Clowns are from Michigan? Along with Eminem and (I think) Kid Rock. And Motown, of course.

Jan is titanium, she is steel. One thing she is not is carbon fiber. Take that, Stockton Rush.

Ha, she will NOT allow one of her local landmarks to be destroyed! That's great. Whoa.... Gadget is here??

Okami casts his Chameleon spell. Yea, this Dogman's days are doomed.

Whoa, teh Dogman bleeds red, suggesting it's got biological ties to other species of fauna here on Earth. 🐶 He also speaks!

He also seems to be a trickster. Get the supers out here, and flee. No! BAD dog!!!! Seriously, though. Seems this doggie's got some sort of elaborate agenda. Guess we'll find out.

Acadian: As we will learn, Cray summoned the whole team. It was just over before the others could arrive, as we learn today.

Lots more Dogman in the future, he's the main antagonist of this book.

January will never stop falling for that trick. At least I hope she won't, because that will mean people dying just so she can 'win'. I wanted to point that out, because it really is a litmus test for who is a hero, and who is just a thug with pretensions of grandeur.

You might say that January is getting tired of this...


WellTemperedClavier: The Dogman has a whole back story. We will eventually get to it, as the hunt for him begins. In between January's own personal life of course. Because she does not stop living between suping.

You are right, in that this really was a great example of the benefits of a team. I originally structured this encounter to make the Dogman a serious threat to the team, without him being individually too powerful. He's not a Dark Lord of the Abyss level of threat. So by him causing a danger to the tire, and a potential threat to those outside, I was able to create a situation that would take multiple team members to solve. It is something I learned watching the Supergirl show on the CW. More than once SG and her pals were put in similar situations where they had to do engineering surgery to prevent a skyscraper from falling down, while the villain who caused the damage got away.


Renee: You are correct in that the Dogman is not an Abyssal. He's a local Michigan cryptid/folkloric entity. Since this is the first episode following the big Season One finale, I wanted to have sort of an epilogue tied to the Battle of Belle Isle, to show January and company still tying up loose ends from it. I also wanted a change of tone after something that serious. Because of that the story later will become more humorous and light-hearted than usual.

Chessie looks really cool! I am going to add it to my list of monsters. I can see it playing a role similar to Mishipeshu (the Underwater Panther) in the Great Lakes. It would make for a great nature spirit that January might encounter or even call up for help, if I have a story in the Chesapeake.

ICP is originally a Michigan thing. I think they used to have the Gathering of Juggalos here as well, but I am pretty sure those are all out of state now. I hope to use the Mad Fae Corps in a future story, set at the Gathering (which will still be in Michigan in the Crowverse).

The Behind the Bastards podcast had a really good two part episode recently on Stockton Rush and his cheap libertarian submersible. The short answer is don't feel sorry for that guy. He was an ass who worked really hard to get himself killed. I only feel sorry for the teenager whose dad pressured him to go.

It is interesting that you mention it though, as in the next Book (which I am still writing right now) January will be going to the bottom of the sea.

We will find out more about the Dogman in the future. Though rest assured, his agenda is not nearly as devious as you might think. He's actually pretty straightforward.








Book 11.15 - Raven Sisters

"So what the heck was that thing?" Gadget wondered aloud. He took off his helmet with a pneumatic thump, as its airtight seal was broken. He set it down upon the surface of Cray's tabletop computer. The device instantly brought up a holographic window above the piece of armor. It began listing off its features, and provided options for interfacing with it.

"It looked like a monster from Dungeons and Dragons." Ôkami noted. He also took off his helmet. But rather than set it down, he held it under the crook of his arm. With his other hand he ran his gauntleted fingers through the fine stubble of hair that carpeted his scalp.

"I think it's the Michigan Dogman," January frowned. She too, pulled her helmet from her head. She ran her fingers across the wing that had been broken from its crown. A wide band of tape held it in place. She gingerly poked at the wing, and found that it was secure. Satisfied, she pulled off the tape altogether. This revealed that the decorative wing had reattached itself to the rest of the helmet. Once again, she was thankful for the new and improved self-repairing suit that Blackwood had crafted for her.

"But you said in your report that the Hierophant had killed him." Cray was the odd man out, in that he did not wear a super suit. Instead he was clad in own version of cape wear: a sweater vest and tie, over a pair of neatly creased slacks. He pushed his glasses up his nose, and bent over the table top computer to type on its surface.

Blackhawk and Lighthammer were not present. It had all ended before they could even arrive. So there had seemed little point in their joining. Besides, even though January might not know much about the hacker's personal life, she knew Cray's professional standards. He would forward a full report to them, once they were done writing it in the first place.

Around them spread out the elder hacker's domain. It was dominated by the massive black glass table computer. It was the size of a pool table, and boasted several controls along its edges. As Avery's helmet revealed, it automatically analyzed and interfaced with anything set upon it. It even did so for something as simple as Cray's fingertips. As soon as the hacker had put his hands on the computer, it had created a keyboard for him to begin typing with.

The walls of this section of the penthouse were covered in gigantic computer screens, along with several workstations replete with old-fashioned keyboards and mice. A sealed glass cabinet filled with servers and networking gear blinked silently among them. The blue and yellow colored cables that ran between the devices within were all fastidiously laid out and bundled together with velcro. Like their owner, they were neat and tidy.

Through the tall glass French doors that led to the balcony outside, January could see a wide wedge of Downtown Detroit. The Compuware Building and Campus Martius were right next door. Beyond spread out more office buildings, such as the Neo-Gothic roofed Comerica Building, and of course the tall glass and steel cylinders of the Renaissance Center.

Farther still meandered the Detroit River, and within it Belle Isle. January felt a twinge of guilt when she looked upon the dusty moonscape of destruction that took up the south-western tip of the island. It stood in such stark contrast with the rest of the island, and its green lawns and emerald trees.

But as ever, that feeling was dispelled when she set her eyes upon the glowing eidolon of Y Ddraig Aur. The ghostly image of the golden dragon still shone in the air, looking as if she would never leave. That brought January hope. While everything else lay in ruins, she stood tall and strong, just as the cities of Detroit and Windsor did to either side.

January looked back to the Raven's Nest. A massive block of black marble took up the center of the space. It ran from floor to ceiling, and divided the penthouse into four distinct sections. Cray's network center took up only one of these quarters. To the right lay what had been Blood Raven's ancient library, and the large freight elevator that led down to the rest of the building below. Also here was a spiral iron staircase, that wound up through the ceiling to the floor above. To the left was the lounge area, formerly the elder heroine's genealogy study. Finally opposite the massive black marble block from the computer domain was Blood Raven's former modern occult studies office.

Now of course all of Blood Raven's old books and belongings were gone. All that remained were Cray's computers and the furniture in the lounge. She and the others had not yet begun to fill up the rest of the space. She could not help but notice the emptiness created by the distinct lack of Blood Raven. All of this felt so strange without her.

"I saw it with my own eyes," January replied as Cray brought up the report that January had made after the battle. It took up a new hologram that now glowed in the air above the table. Like all the team, each of them had written down their recollections of the Battle of Belle Isle after it was over. Cray called it a mission debriefing, as if he was still in the military. He saved them all for later reference. Such as times like now.

"Perhaps the Dogman survived?" Ôkami considered. "Blood Raven can regenerate even the most grievous wounds. He might be able to do the same."

"No, his death was... spectacular." January shook her head. Even now it played back in her mind, and sent a shiver down her spine. "The Hierophant summoned up a swarm of beetles from within his own skin. They ate him from the inside out. There was nothing left."

"What about the flail?" Cray asked. "In your report, you said the first Dogman carried one. What happened to it?"

"The flail?" January cocked her head to one side, and searched her memory. The last thing she wanted to do was spend more time reliving that event. It had nearly killed her. In the end she had only survived by taking someone else's life. Once again, that had been in the most gruesome fashion.

She heard the Hierophant scream. It was a blood-curdling, high-pitched shriek that turned January's blood to ice. His body stretched out impossibly long as she looked on. Then it began coming apart, bones popping free of limbs, only to themselves turn into fine spaghetti.

"You ok January?"

January opened her eyes to find Avery standing beside her. His armored hand lay gently on her shoulder. His brown eyes stared into hers, and a look of concern was writ large across his features.

"I'm fine," January shrugged, and stepped away. Her heart raced, and her breath came in deep inhalations. She leaned over the table computer, and stared at the electronic copy of the report that she had written. But she could not really see the words. This was all just a show. She used the time it bought her to will her heart to slow down, and spend a moment just breathing evenly, in and out.

"There was a flail," she finally spoke once more. "It was the same flail that the Dogman had today. The exact same one. I am sure of it. It was like a work of monstrous art."

"Did either of you sense anything magical about it?" Cray looked from January to Ôkami.

"I was too busy eating those spiked heads to tell," January rubbed her jaw, and was careful not to break the butterfly band-aids that held her cut skin there shut. "But that thing hit. I mean it really hit. Usually only magic can do that to me. Only planting myself and becoming Earth could defend against it."

"It was magical," Ôkami insisted. "I felt it. But I have not invested too many experience points into my astral senses, so I cannot say much more than that. I did not sense it after the battle however."

"So the Dogman might be able to cloak his aura, like the Hierophant and Summoner could." January observed.

"Or maybe it can go into a low power mode?" Gadget theorized. "That guy, he didn't sound like a magical monster at the end. He talked like a regular dude. He even said it wasn't his fault."

"January, in your report you said that all of the Hierophant's minions had been promised some sort of reward for their services." Cray noted as his eyes scanned January's account of the events of the Battle of Belle Isle. "The original Dogman said he wanted a curse broken. Could this be the same curse, on a new person?"

"That is it!" Ôkami snapped his fingers and pointed it at the hologram. "The flail is cursed. Someone else must have found it after the battle, and the curse was passed on to them."

"If that is the case, he's not the enemy, the flail is." January murmured. "We have to save him from it."

"That's a big 'if'," Cray pointed out. "I know you want to think the best of people. But with some folks, there is no best. Even if there is a curse, he might not want it to be broken."

"We have to give him a chance," January insisted. "More importantly, we have to keep an open mind."

"I don't believe this, it's like I've suddenly turned into Blood Raven..." Cray sighed, and ran his fingers back through his hair. "I was always the one telling her that sort of thing. Sometimes I was right. Sometimes she was. Just remember the most important part of keeping an open mind: you need a screen door. Otherwise people will shovel a load of crap into it."

"Well, whether he really is a bad guy, or is just misunderstood, he can't be that hard to find," Gadget reasoned. "I mean, he's a giant furry monster with a Flail from Hell. Even here in the D, that is bound to stick out."

"Unless he's a lycanthrope," January replied. "He might turn into the Dogman. Then turn back to normal afterward. At the beginning of the fight it was like he was berserk, just completely overcome with rage. His eyes were just blazing with insanity. He couldn't even talk, he just growled."

"But at the end he was speaking," Ôkami observed. "He also stopped attacking. It was like he suddenly realized what he had done."

"Well, if he can go back to normal, and the flail goes into sleep mode, then we're never going to find him, at least not until he weres out again." Gadget frowned.

"But when he does, we'll be ready." January insisted. "It looks like it's time for me to hit the books. Silverlight sent me an electronic copy of her English version of the Scripta Mortis, and some books by John Dee and other old mages. I'll see what they have to say about Dogmen."

"Right, and I'll set up some bots to scan local news and social media posts for him," Cray concluded.

* * *

A fabulous brainstorming session in the Blood Ravenless Raven’s Nest. Cray continues to be awesomesauce. Jan is still dealing with intrusive memories of her messy battle with HigherPants.

From little bits and clues, it seems like the group came up with a logical theory which is much more than they started with regarding this Dogman.


Nit: ’Cray noted as his eyes scanned the {drop ‘the’?} January's account of the events of the Battle of Belle Isle.’