Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #9 – “Like Daughter”

* Part 2 of 5 of the Girl in the World storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #9 – “Like Daughter”! In the previous installment, the accidentally-destructive Supergirl gets cornered by the military in New York City, but she gets saved by some young Irish bird with a white pixie cut named Siobhan. Siobhan has special powers too, like being able to speak Krypton after only hearing three words of it. Also, she’s the Silver Banshee, but I’ll get to that later.

So, Siobhan is the Silver Banshee and her dad shows up as the Black Banshee and they have to fight now.

Also, Siobhan is a musician and Supergirl will live with her in her shitty Queens apartment.

And they won’t have sex. Sorry.

Onward!

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #9 [July, 2012]
Written by: Michael Green & Mike Johnson
“Like Daughter”

Thirteen years ago in hazy, gray Ireland, a very young Siobhan is carried across the plains by her older brother Patrick Ryan Liam Connor Cillian O’Reilly. Her mother, Maeve Aoibhe Saoirse Clodagh Sinead Niamh O’Reilly, is in tow. “It’s no use, Tom [oh, the brother is named Tom, ok, that’s a shitty name], he’ll find us wherever we go,” Mom says like a really Debbie O’Downer.

Siobhan sees a shepherd with his sheep in the distance. “What a lovely young family, but looking so lost…” he says. Siobhan’s brother starts hollering at him to stay back and/or get away and/or go fuck himself.

The shepherd turns into their awful, ugly dad. Their dad with the glowing blue eye. “NOW GIVE ME MY DAUGHTER,” he rumbles in that putrid brown speech balloon. Mom takes Siobhan and runs for the hills! “I’ll never let you have her,” says Tom. “The curse ends here.”

Yeah right, bro. It’s not your choice. There is a destiny. She has the “gift”. You’re just getting in the way, punk, and he will kill you if he has to.

Tom is like “bring it on, cocksucker”. Tom’s blood prevents harm from Dad’s magic. The firstborn son can end the curse! So take him if you want him, but so help him god if you get within 10 yards of Siobhan then Tom will slit his wrists and smear blood all over your stupid craggy face, sir.

Looks like the kid is getting all calm and righteous. Good for him.

Think about what you’re doing, son! You have so much to offer! Siobhan can’t offer shit! She’s useless! Just give her up so we can go to Arby’s!

Dad gets mad at this crap. He wanted Siobhan, not Stinky Tom. But Tom declared it to be so, and now Dad has no choice because he is Bound by the Laws of Arbitrary Curse Logic. So Dad sucks him up into some sort of void in his chest and they both disappear into the mists. Mom cries. Siobhan asks where Tom went. It’s pretty sad, actually. Let’s pretend it never happened.

IN THE PRESENT, in Queens where Fran Drescher was born, Supergirl watches as Siobhan transforms into that Silver Banshee thing in order to fight her father, the Black Banshee thing. Kara is kind of bummed that her first friend on Earth has a lot of baggage. She was hoping that she could take a break from all the running and fighting. It’s not like Fran Drescher has any supernatural powers or enemies. Sure, she might be 91 years old, but having old friends isn’t so bad! Anyway.

Black Banshee smiles as his daughter embraces her power. It must feel good, like a 45-minute orgasm or that first bite into a Choco Taco. Kara is like “on this planet I’m invulnerable and strong as fuck, but oh no this guy is scary”. Siobhan tells Kara to run, but Kara is still freaked out about the whole Silver Banshee thing. She looks like a skull with a pixie cut. Definitely uncouth.

“I’m not leaving you here!” Kara finally says to Silver Banshee.

“I should hope not, my fair young thing,” Black Banshee butts in. “The souls of these commonfolk will sustain me for a time… but your soul… I can taste it already… your soul will feed me like no other!”

Don’t scream too loud, Ms. Banshee. You’ll wake the baby.

Black Banshee invites his daughter to eat Kara out as well (lol), but Silver Banshee is not into that. She screeches a weird silver bolt of light through Black Banshee’s head, which causes him to collapse backward. The girls take advantage of these 30 microseconds by running out of the club.

“Siobhan, what’s going on?”

“I never wanted ye tae see me like this! Aagh… God, I fergot the pain,” Black Banshee says, misspelling words all Irishy. “It’s me… me family’s secret, Kara. Me family’s curse… I thought I could leave it behind me back home. I thought I had it under control. Being near that… must have triggered it again… Oh Kara, I’ve put ye in terrible danger!”

What Siobhan needs is some Lucky Charms! Kara rips off herc clothes, revealing the Supergirl costume that she wasn’t supposed to be wearing. “I won’t let you face it alone.”

Isn’t that sweet? *gag* *barf* *moo*

Black Banshee busts through the brick wall, scaring the bejesus out of the two girls. Silver Banshee crumples to the ground. Supergirl grimaces, then growls, then scowls, then scrimaces, then launches herself toward Jerk Daddy. “I won’t let you hurt her!” she bellows. Black Banshee’s voice, his forceful scream, blows Supergirl backward just as fast as she was approaching. Which was pretty fast! “NNNNH–!” she says. That’s a great way to begin an awful slur, you racist!

A crowd gathers around. Supergirl has been addled by Black Banshee’s scream. She can see the skeletons of everyone around her – her vision is going haywire! A man tries to help her, but she accidentally throws him across the street! That isn’t going to help her reputation around her much, that’s for sure. “What’s happening to me?” she asks herself.

I’ve been blinded by science yet again!

While Supergirl is incapacitated by Blue Eyeball Syndrome, Silver Banshee gets up and screams a couple of cars into Black Banshee’s direction. They crush him to the road. They were shitty cars anyway. One of them looks like a Ford Focus. Get a better car, loser.

Silver Banshee cackles. She cackles alarmingly enough that it scares Supergirl. “GET BACK!!!” Silver Banshee blurts at Supergirl. “Or are ye lookin’ to be next, girl?”

She snaps out of it momentarily and apologizes for being a Banshee Bitch there for a second. Supergirl has regular eyeballs again so she’s back in the game! ACTION! THIS ISSUE IS ALL ABOUT THE ACTION! Silver Banshee will have time to explain everything that’s going on once this little family feud is over. But it’s not over. Oh no, it keeps on happening. Black Banshee gets up and fights back again.

He comments that he can’t seem to steal Supergirl’s soul. Probably because souls are fucking fake. “Guess I’ll just have to destroy your body instead,” he says. That’s not very nice! Destroying bodies while they’re still alive isn’t nice! Kill her first then destroy her! I mean, come on!

Supergirl gets up and tries some banshee screamin’ of her own. The attempt is pathetic. Black Banshee screams at her again, sending her flying back, addling her again. Rinse and repeat.

Supergirl can feel the heat behind her eyes building beyond her control. She yells at everyone gathered around to get back. In Krypton, of course, so no one can understand her. She fires some eyeball heat beams at a nearby car, exploding the shit out of it. It looks like a Ford Escort. Shitty car.

Siobhan tries to help, but Supergirl just keeps on heating up! She glows a brilliant orange and screams in agony.

“Delicious,” smiles Black Banshee.

“Father! What’ve ye done to her?!”

“Merely unlocked the power that was already there. Isn’t she magnificent?”

Supergirl is going to explode into 9,000,000 pieces, but she takes advantage of the few last precious seconds.

Eat my yellow fists, you old hot dog!

Supergirl goes right through him! Or rather, into him, much like dear Tom. Black Banshee doubles over in pain. She gave herself freely to him, and now he’s absorbing all her power! He feels rejuvenated like he just drank a gallon of Gatorade Frost Riptide Rush! “Ye’ve failed, Siobhan. Just like yer brother did years ago.”

“He thought he could stop me too. He learned the truth. I hoped ye’d embrace your destiny. I thought we could remake this world together. But I was wrong. And now… THE BLACK BANSHEE RULES ALONE!”

He lifts his daughter up off the ground by her throat. It looks painful. Good thing this issue ended well!

Final Thoughts

All action and no substance, baby! That’s how I like my New 52!

Sigh.

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Guide to Cohabitation Based On Archaic Socially Constructed Traditions (aka Marriage, w/e)

I’ve had various versions of blogs and websites continuously since 2000, and I have records of a lot of it since 2006. Once in a while I’ll dredge up an old post and feature it so that we can all laugh at the juvenility of my previous work and then laugh at how little it all has actually changed since. Enjoy.

Originally posted on my old blog on December 6th, 2016.

The concept of marriage has been around for–

Whoops, I was supposed to fix that before I was done! Ha ha! Anyway, where were we?

So, yeah, marriage. It’s that thing everyone has advice about even though it seems like anyone who actually wants to volunteer marriage advice is either a) in a shitty marriage themselves, or b) in a great marriage, probably, but they do things like write nauseating haikus to each other for their anniversaries or dress up in matching jerseys when they attend sporting events. These are the married couples who post hundreds of photos of themselves together, with their plastic smiles and their creepy wide crow’s-feet-lined soulless desperate eyes. These kinds of couples shop at Michael’s every weekend to buy yarn and buttons.

So yeah, fuck that, I don’t want that. But maybe you do, and you’re so desperate for this kind of relationship that you actually clicked the link to this blog! Not even by accident! Well, don’t worry, I’ve been married for over 10,000 hours so I’m an expert in the matter. If you think your relationship to your awful significant other is in the toilet and there’s no hope, then please read the following regurgitated tripe so that YOU TOO can know how to install a new deadbolt lock on your front door, or whatever the fuck it is I’m trying to talk about here. Who cares.

Figure 1. Typical American Marriage

1. Get Along With Each Other

I can’t stress this one enough, my friends. The key to a happy marriage is KNOWING. WHEN. TO. SAY. YOU’RE. WRONG.

No, actually, that’s stupid. Who told you that, your white middle-aged co-worker? Rounder than he is tall? Kinda looks like one of the Minions? You imagine that his wife looks just like him except with a wig? Tell him he’s a piece of shit next time you see him in the break room. Take off his little spectacles and throw them in the trash.

OK, getting along is easier said than done, right? Perhaps you have very little in common. My wife, for example (who will remain anonymous to protect her identity, let’s just call her “Erika”), likes to leave glasses of pig’s blood lying around the house. Filled to the brim. I happen to frown upon this activity, so we made a compromise and now she only fills them halfway and leaves around twice as many. Marriage is about sacrifice here. Ritual goddamn sacrifice.

If all else fails, you could try just buying a bigger house with more hallways so that there’s less of a chance that you’ll run into each other during the day.

2. Communicate Better

I can’t stress this one enough, my friends. The key to a happy marriage is BUY. A. SEPARATE. BED.

Co-workers are hilarious, aren’t they?! I personally wouldn’t know, I’m unemployed and I argue with a fire hydrant near the overpass every day.

How often do you talk to your spouse? Do you talk to your spouse at all? Does he/she have vocal cords? What do you talk about? Do you talk about work? Sex? Politics? Movies? Drugs? Prostitution? Money? How about money? Do you talk about money? Let’s talk about money. Can I borrow $25?

Communication is this great thing we’re able to do to get other humans to understand what we’re thinking. Unless your spouse isn’t human (no judgement here, man), this should work. If it doesn’t work, that means you didn’t listen to what I was trying to tell you about communication. We need to work on that. And by “we” I mean “you”, because I feel like I’ve been putting all the effort into this lately and getting nothing in return. It’s not all about you, you know.

3. Seek Counseling

I can’t stress this one enough, my friends. The key to a happy marriage is JOKES. COME. IN. THREES.

Oh good gravy, sir or ma’am, you’re thinking about COUNSELING already? You’re going to let some smarmy nerd in an atrocious brown sweater vest share his shitty opinions while you pay him for it? Booooooo! If that’s your plan then at least let me be that smarmy nerd.

Pretend that you two are sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs in a musty office, arms folded and frowning heavily. Your eye is twitching. Your spouse keeps clicking his/her tongue. Now here I am, sitting behind a large lavish artisan hand-carved wooden desk. I’m grinning like a shithead at you two, with my thumbs under my suspenders. I can’t grow a beard, but I’m picturing that I’ve got this obnoxious fucking beard here. Behind me is a wall of credentials that say things like “Certified Spouse Whisperer”. I’m, like, rotating back in forth in my chair a little too. And it squeaks every time it moves. Finally, after an agonizing few minutes, I lean forward to speak. The room grows dead quiet, the atmosphere thick and heady with suspense and anticipation.

“Have you tried putting it in the butt?”

Marriage saved.

Figure 2. Typical American Divorce

4. Get Divorced

YES. I’ve been trying to say this since Day 1. We’re all sick of hearing about your turd of a fart of a marriage. Get divorced already, you’re making the rest of us miserable.

Hey, buck up there Champ! Don’t worry, this is a whole new beginning! Divorce has nothing but positives! Check out this list, son:

1. There’s a good chance that you won’t end up getting full custody of your shitty kids Bryndynn, Gibraltar, Hashtag, and Keurig.

2. You can take advantage of late night single life and try new pickup lines at your local insufferable hipster oxygen bar or wherever you kids hang out these days. Nothing gets you drunken 3 a.m. pity sex quite like “My spouse exploded in a blimp.”

3. Marriage was all about NAG NAG NAG NAG, am I right? Now you can soothe yourself to sleep every night with your own terrified, haunted, lonely screaming without pesky interruption.

4. You’re free to fake your own anticlimactic death now, something you only dreamed about before! Imagine avoiding all the paperwork and heartache that comes from divorce in the first place. Alimony Schmalimony! The only thing you’ll have to care about when you’re off the grid and hundreds of miles away from civilization is making sure those berries you’re foraging aren’t poisonous. And bear traps. And that one creepy brain-eating swamp amoeba.

Do yourself a favor and print out this post to fold in your back pocket for safe keeping. You’ll never know when you’ll need it. Some days you’ll find yourself staring 1000 yards away with recurring flashes firing across your synapses of plummeting into a hellish endless void. That’s marriage, my friend. Or it’s not. I don’t know. I’ve only been married for a year, and it’s pretty good so far. It sounds to me like you’re just a whiner. Thanks for reading!

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The Dragon Reborn (Book 3) – Chapter 10: “Secrets”

I am relieved to stumble upon the first chapter that’s not focused on Perrin. Egwene, Nynaeve, Elaine, Hurin, Mat, and Verin the Brown Ajah Aes Sedai Colonel Sensei are horsing their way to Tar Valon. They know they’re sort of getting close because Dragonmount, the big scary mountain where Lews Therin died, is in the distance. Actually, it’s so big that it’s always in the distance. They have no idea how far they really are, I suppose! They could still be 5,000 miles away for all I know or care. Or don’t care.

Egwene is in love with Rand and wonders how he’s doing. Nynaeve tells them he’s fine. They’re all fine. Everyone’s fine! Mat’s not fine, though. He’s passed out in the litter from Dagger Poisoning and he hasn’t barely stirred in three days. Haste to the White Tower is of the utmost importance.

Hurin, the sniffer, senses trouble a-brewin’. Egwene, Nynaeve, and Elayne quietly discuss using the One Power if they’re attacked even though they’re not allowed to use it as a weapon. The penalty for breaking Aes Sedai laws is stilling, which means removing one’s ability to reach out to saidar even though you can sense it. This is apparently a horrible, torturous punishment. Not worth the price.

Suddenly, a bunch of fucking Whitecloaks show up on horses, confirming the trouble that Hurin was sniffing out. They get all belligerent and combative. Verin tries to politely and calmly talk some sense to get through, but the girls tear shit up with their One Power and explosively erupt dirt from the ground all around the Whitecloaks. They and their horses freak the fuck out, and one falls off his horse right in front of them. He demands to be killed “just like his father”. Verin snaps out of her Brown Ajah stupor and chastises the girls forcefully, threatening expulsion from Aes Sedai Academy of the Arts. Plus, now word will get out. They won’t be able to travel as anonymously as they had hoped.

After Egwene mentions coming from Toman Head, the lone Whitecloak boggles. They were there where his father, Geofram Bornhald, was killed in battle? Fuck you! He’s Dain Bornhald, and you’re going to find that name so scary you’ll shit your pants in fear and loathing! In Las Vegas!

They ride around him and continue on their journey to the Whitest Tower in Town.

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She-Hulk (Vol. 3), Issue #1 – “Motion”

* Part 1 of 6 of the Law and Disorder storyline *

Welcome to Loneliness & Cheeseburgers Presents: She-Hulk (Vol. 3), Issue #1 – “Motion”!

She-Hulk! I think it’s pretty funny that I’m tackling a She-Hulk series before I ever ever tackled a regular ol’ Hulk series. Maybe by the time you’re reading this I got around to a regular Hulk series, but fuck that guy. What am I gonna do, read about him getting so mad that he takes a big green shit all over the place?

Here’s what I know about She-Hulk. She’s a lawyer and she was played by the hot lady from Orphan Black in the miniseries. I don’t even know She-Hulk’s real name, so I’m just going to call her “Giada Coltrane McGillicuddy” until further notice.

She-Hulk (Vol. 3), Issue #1 [April, 2014]
Written by: Charles Soule
“Motion”

A lengthy preamble brings me up to speed! Jennifer Walters is her name. She’s shy and good at her lawyering job. She was gunned down (!) by a crime boss (!!) and got a blood transfusion from her cousin Bruce Banner. Now she can Hulk out, but she can control it and do the Hulk thing whenever she wants and she doesn’t even get angry about it like Lou Ferrigno.

She-Hulk lounges at her desk inside her lavish corner office. She’s waiting for her yearly review, which she thinks she’s going to ace because she billed out over 2,800 hours while she was housesitting for the Fantastic Four. Cynthia, a woman in She-Hulk’s office who doesn’t seem to mind that her business associate is green, is nervous for her.

“They’re ready for you in the partners’ conference room, Ms. Walters,” chimes the voice on the other end of her phone intercom. Super! She-Hulk struts the fuck out of there like she’s on top of the shitty world.

She-Hulk marvels at the partners’ conference room. She’s never had the privilege to be in such a pristine VIP room for the big wigs who like to fuck their prostitutes on the $50,000 conference table. She sits down with the two Review Men.

“Ms. Walters, you’ve been with us for a year. As you know, the purpose of this review is to assess your performance as an associate, and to provide recommendations for going forward,” explains a sallow, sunken-faced old fuck. Then, of course, her year-end bonus will also be a topic of brief, almost non-existent discussion.

She-Hulk can’t wait. It’s going to be a real meaty piece of juicy compensation!

Maybe you should stop scaring away clients with your big, dumb, green face.

…and she doesn’t get her bonus. Look, lady, you are being paid a fuckton of money as it is. And your billable hours are irrelevant for two reasons: 1) shut up, and 2) go away.

The Review Men hem and haw for a moment before admitting that, frankly, She-Hulk should already know why she’s not getting a bonus. They only hired her for her connections, and they have yet to see any clients from the superhero side of things. Like, Tony Stark and Reed Richards and Giada Coltrane McGillicuddy! Where are they? Why is it always Jim-Bob Horsefucker from Toad Suck, Arkansas? Where are the good, RESPECTABLE clients??

“While we appreciate your diligence, Ms. Walters, you were not hired to bill hours and work cases. We have lawyers for that.”

She-Hulk isn’t going to take this sitting down! So she stands up instead. “I deserve better than this,” she claims wrongly. She points out the window to the city she has helped save about a million times over. Plus, she’s a pretty decent attorney and is good at winning cases, also, in fact. She’s not here to strongarm Tony Stark into being represented by the Law Offices of Douchebag and Doucheturd. No way.

The two Review Men glance at each other and decide, hey, now’s a good time to fire this green bitch! However, she quits before Sallow Sunken-Face can finish his sentence, which makes things easier for everyone! Her current clients will get redistributed! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, unless of course you want it to!

She breaks the $50,000 conference table on her way out. For fun. Instead of looking mad and vindictive, the two men just look scared and perplexed. That’ll show ‘em.

Is She-Hulk permanently green? She’s at a bar now enjoying a nice job-quittin’ drink while looking very conspicuous. So conspicuous, in fact, that she gets approached by a woman. “Hello. You’re an attorney right?” she asks, which She-Hulk gets catty about and reminds the woman that this is a lawyer bar full of lawyers and you can’t throw a rock without hitting a lawyer and killing them. So don’t even try unless you want to rid the Earth of a few lawyers, which isn’t necessarily a bad idea.

Looks like you should’ve just passed the bar!!! HA HA HA HA HA!!!

The woman is named Holly Harrow, and she is having trouble finding a lawyer who will actually take her case. She-Hulk takes a look at Harrow’s paperwork and decides, yeah, taking such a case would be career suicide. You know, going up against “this guy” and all. The conversation keeps things vague but, basically, Harrow’s husband is dead and his patent was possibly stolen. She-Hulk won’t take the case either because a) shut up, and b) go away.

But actually, it’s because she knows “this guy” and she’s pretty confident that a quick conversation will settle things out of court. And so it shall be.

Later, She-Hulk visits Stark Tower to visit the Man, the Myth, the Legend himself: Robert Downey Jr., of course. He was pretty good in Weird Science. You know, that movie about the sex robot. Once She-Hulk mentions to the twin hologram secretaries that the discussion is related to lawyering, she is directed to the 18th floor where she won’t see Robert Downey Jr. yet.

The 18th floor is merely a long-ass hallway that leads to a creepy bald man with sunglasses and a purple bowtie sitting behind a desk. He calls himself Legal, and he’s here to vet legal matters to make sure they’re worthy for Tony Stark’s attention. Legal is already aware of the Harrow matter. Holly’s husband, Dr. Jonas Harrow, was some evil creator of murder weapons and he claimed that Stark stole some tech way back in the day. Well, don’t bother with this case. It’s dead in the water! She-Hulk still wants to talk to Stark about it, but Legal blah-blah-blahs profusely about the history of Stark’s enterprise as some sort of excuse. So am-scray.

And am-scray she does, intending to take this matter to court! The chip on her shoulder is the size of a Tostido!

We jump to court immediately! Legal is about 3’2” tall and he looks like I could punt his ass to the moon. She-Hulk’s opening arguments are as follows: …wait, Legal has something to say? Go ahead Legal. Mmm-hmm. You have new motions to introduce at this time? “We’re moving for summary judgment, change of venue, extensions on multiple grounds, countersuit based on tortious interference, and, among other things, alleging that Ms. Walters is not competent at serving counsel in this matter due to her relationship with my client, Mr. Stark.”

Legal’s four attorney sidekicks present the judge with boxes upon boxes of files and notes.

“In particular, we sugges that Ms. Walters holds a personal grudge against Mr. Stark due to physical confrontations where she came out on the losing side, and previous romantic relationships between the two.”

Homework sucks, right kids?

Later, Holly Harrow takes She-Hulk to her self-storage space where all of Dr. Jonas Harrow’s evil inventions, guns and blowup dolls are stored. What was supposed to be a two-minute conversation with Tony Stark has turned into Shit City. She-Hulk sighs and promises to sort everything out and try to find something she can use in a Court of Law.

Eventually, She-Hulk finds a microcassette with a damning recording! Bingo bango, sir. Making haste, she storms back to Stark Tower which is guarded by robots who want She-Hulk gone for being an overall nuisance. Now, finally, we get to see She-Hulk really Hulk out! And that means her muscles get bigger and she rips her pants to shreds. Time to see Tony Stark.

Stark is happy to see her! Or maybe it’s a gun in his pocket. At any rate, She-Hulk lays it out for him. Dr. Jonas Harrow pitched his patent to a company called Accutech where he met with a guy named Eddie Finch and recorded their conversation. Six months later, Accutech introduced repulsor tech identical to Harrow’s patent! Fuckin’ Finch, right? That guy is a snake.

Now, sir, based on the Accutech public filings, your Starky company made $80 million from the repulsor tech’s designs. Uh oh!

Stark claims he never even met Eddie Finch. He wasn’t aware of any of these shady dealings. And She-Hulk believes him, which is why she came straight to him to talk in the first place. Call off your bald Legal nerd and cut Holly Harrow a nice fat check before things get ugly. Pay more attention to what your company is doing next time, idiot.

It turns out that Tony Stark is happy to see her, if you catch my drift.

I would’ve held out for at least $150,002.00.

Later, in the lawyer bar for lawyering lawyers, Holly thanks She-Hulk for her efforts. A nice fat check is just what the doctor ordered! Tony Stark gave Holly so much money that she can afford to pay She-Hulk $150,000! She-Hulk accepts graciously and decides to use the money to start her own law firm.

And the rest, they say, is history. I hope you enjoyed She-Hulk (2014), Issue #1! I’ll never read another one for the rest of my life.

Final Thoughts

Just kidding! Had you going there for a second, didn’t I?

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Jane’s Journey, Chapter 4 – Trouble in Winterwood

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In Ironsworn, you are a hero sworn to undertake perilous quests in the dark fantasy setting of the Ironlands. You will explore untracked wilds, fight desperate battles, forge bonds with isolated communities, and reveal the secrets of this harsh land. Most importantly, you will swear iron vows and see them fulfilled—no matter the cost.

I was happy to finally reach civilization after, gods, it must have been seven or eight hours easily. Walking, fighting, resting, moving through pain. I am lucky that I made it to Winterwood in one piece! I hope that I’ll be able to find a nice feathered bed with a possibility of a meal. It is quite late, and the inn may no longer have food available. And the cooks and serving girls are likely all asleep! Even a morsel would do, I need something to eat today other than nuts and berries.

I descend the hill toward town where I find a gate flanked by two guardsmen. “Hello, sirs. I am Lady Jane of the noble House of Kormack in the seat of Wolfspire. I come here to fulfill an iron vow to the healer of my village. If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to rest for the night at the inn. Might you could point me in the direction and I’ll be on my way.”

The guards glanced at each other before looking back at me. Each clad in chainmail and holding a spear by their side, I felt so much smaller in their presence. “Lady Jane of the House of Kormack, eh?” said one, looking me up and down. “I’ve never seen a noble woman who looked so much like a boy. Where is your hair, ‘Lady Jane?'” The other guard snickered. My stomach sank to my feet. I made it this far and now I was to be turned away. “A jest, Lady Jane,” the guard laughed, motioning me through the gate. “I have my scruples. I would not turn away a Lady even if she did look like a boy, if you are who you purport you are.” He sized me up and gave me a hard look. “Just don’t make trouble. You’ll find the inn just up the road to the left, the only stead with candles still flickering in the windows.”

I thanked the guards graciously and pressed forward with a sigh of relief. Had it been a few hours earlier I would have had no issue entering the village, but this late at night? They had reason to be wary. Nevertheless, I made the short traverse to the inn and entered through the doors to be welcomed by the mouth-watering smell of soup from the cooking pot. The coals under the pot smoldered lightly; not the most confident sign. The plump innkeeper welcomed me with an air of impatience. “My, you appear to be quite the impish boy. Where are your father and mother, boy?”

I was starting to get rather indignant by all this “boy” nonsense. Is this how every village treats its wanderers and passers-by? “I’d like a room and possibly some of the delicious soup I smell over in the pot in the corner. I don’t have coin, but I’m willing to offer other services. Perhaps I can clean the rooms in the morning after your other patrons take their leave?”

The innkeeper snorted. “These may be the Ironlands, but I haven’t known many travelers to have no coin on their person. Very well, but be awake at sunup. I take in many travelers who leave at dawn and I need those rooms made for my next guests. As for the soup, you’ll find the pot to be empty. It’s quite late, you know. We can’t be making food all damn day and night. Go on upstairs now. There is an unoccupied room all the way down the hall on the right, the fifth room down. Don’t cause trouble.”

Again, graciously, I thanked the innkeeper and found myself seething as I moved myself upstairs. How dare I be treated this way? Does he know who I am, nobility of a House that he and his ilk swear fealty to? I could make his life miserable indeed if I had half a mind to! Ah, but I was too exhausted to give it much more thought. I could hear the rumblings of loud snoring from many of the other rooms, some snoring even loud enough that I worried about being kept up through the night. No matter, the thought of a warm breakfast in the morning was enticing. I removed my bow and quiver and sack and placed them in the corner, laid myself upon the soft feather bed and fell asleep before I even re-poulticed my wounds. Even before I had another thought.

My night was interrupted by nightmarish visions of screaming priests, melting chapels, Hellish voices, swirling mists, three pillars rising from the ground connected in a triangle. I awoke yet again in a cold sweat and hazy with sleep. There must be a deeper meaning behind these dreams, but why me? What did I do to deserve such agony in my slumber? I was desperate to find a cure for these dreams, whatever it took. I cared not about the ramifications of a dangerous or experimental potion at this point.

I couldn’t ruminate upon this any further. The innkeeper rapped smartly on the wall inside my room. “Are you quite done screaming, driving off my patrons? All night I had to coax very impatient men back to their rooms with promises of peace and quiet to no success. I’d like you to leave immediately before I send for the guards.”

Everything kept getting worse. Now was the time to charm. “My apologies, sir. I will offer to clean every room in your inn, including the kitchen and the commons. You will find that I can do this work quickly, in exchange for your composure and understanding. I will not even accept a bite a food this morning,” I added while my stomach rumbled. It was going to be more nuts and berries this morning.

“You most certainly will not get any food from me, not a crumb. The broom and mop are in the storage room beside the commons and you best get started before I lose my temper further. You will work alone. Go on.”

This was certainly a setback. It appeared that I wasn’t going to find any help anymore help here, but as I was fluffing bedding a man dressed as a scholar of entered the room. “Oh, my apologies, sir. I didn’t know anyone was still cleaning up here,” he said. I decided not to correct him. “I traveled all the way from the Havens to attend university here in Winterwood, but I won’t have room and board situated for a few days time. I may have to clean rooms myself for my extended stay!”

This man seemed friendly, but loquacious. It was a perfect opportunity to gather information on the whereabouts in town of the college. The man’s name was Eren and he endeavors to pursue an education in alchemy. “Potions are a thing of beauty,” Eren gushed. I asked if he knew anything about the Draught of Healing Miasma, but he did not recognize the name. “Healing Miasma? I have not heard such a notion!”

After a spell of pleasantries, Eren told me he was planning to go to the college in the afternoon to collect a stack of books. “I can show you the way,” he said.

“That would be simply wonderful.”

Click here for all the boring game-related notes! On second thought, don’t bother!

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Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #9 – “Like Daughter”

Supergirl (Vol. 6), Issue #9 [July, 2012]
Written by: Michael Green & Mike Johnson
“Like Daughter”

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