9009/Return of a Crowe

Return of a Crowe
Date of Scene:	08 December 2021
Location:	Candle, Booke and Belle
Synopsis:	Zatanna Zatara and Jonathan Sims retrieve a wandering witch from an errand to retrieve her memories, and receive a warning: A Witches War is coming
Cast of Characters:	Nettie Crowe, Zatanna Zatara, Jonathan Sims

---

Nettie Crowe has posed:
It was raining in New York City, as if the skies decided to open up and try to wipe away the grime of the streets. Gray-on-gray or brick red, washing rainbow-stained gasoline splashes down to the sewers below. The quiet roar of the falling rain sets the pensive beat for those who find themselves gathered beneath the swinging sign of the Candle, Booke & Belle -- the shop of Nettie Crowe.

    The street lights seem to flicker, mist creeping and crawling along the sidewalk as if in warning, slithering sleepily from the atmosphere as the cold rain hits the warmer streets below.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
None of it augurs well. Not the creeping sensation that nags the back of her neck like a leaky umbrella or the rising fog on the street. The shop's sign whinges crankily under the steady beat of rain. Zatanna tucks her scarf in and knocks before turning the doorknob which seems stuck. She steps back, rearranging the red cashmere more firmly into her long black coat and mutters sharply, ""!nepO".

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon stands just behind Zatanna, pulling his own scarf down from around the bottom of his face and peering at the door. He hunches his shoulders a bit against the strange sensation, and waits to see if Zatanna's spell will open the door.

    "I don't like this," he mutters, maybe more to put it into the world than to actually communicate to Zatanna. Who would?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Indeed, who'd like this feeling? Eerie and at least a little malignant.

    At the magi's word, the wards drop, and the round-topped door clicks open. The inside of the shop is dark and swathed in dust. Its normal scent of dragon's blood and roses is dulled. All of the perches that Corvax could have occupied lay empty and unused. There was an upturned cup, left to its side and staining the countertop of the tea bar, and whatever was left behind on the plate is nigh unidentifiable for the mold and bugs that have come upon it.

    There appears to have been some sort of rush -- the stand of insence sticks was upended. Spiders spin their webs, their catches suspended in their death shrouds.

    There is the sound of something scraping, though. Like stone on wood, followed by shuddering, metallic sounds, like an old wood saw had come to life and was trying to take its first breath.

    There doesn't seem to be any sort of sign of the witch and proprieter otherwise.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna looks back at Jon, frowning then steps over the threshold. She stops with an audible sniff that earns an impatient shake of her hand. A handkerchief appears, fit for an 18th Century ladies sleeve, which she dabs her nose with while taking in the dust, abandoned perch and the smell of old magic laced with something more sinister.

"Well, no one is home. Not like her at all, is it?" A finger swiped through the dust leaves a visible trace. "Where is that old crow?" she asks Jon and the empty room.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon wrinkles his nose as he steps over the threshold, but he's smelled worse. He looks around, glancing particularly in the direction of the sound of scraping. "I wonder what triggered this. I hadn't heard from her in a while, but... oh, gods, do you think something got to her?" There've been all sorts of nasty things running around lately, after all.

    He takes a moment to focus and fully open his Sight, looking for traces of magic and demons and spirits, peering into the Astral Plane.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Which old crow? Corvax the Familiar, or Annette Victoria Crowe? Both old. Both very much not here.

    But oh, is this place alive with magic. Living magic. Wards and spellwork etched into the walls, the ceiling, the floors. Old spells to keep out theives. NEwer works to keep out all manner of nasties. ONe particular spell to make someone who sits in a chair near the little fireplace to the side more tired than they should be in order to trick them into talking.

    But no sign of Nettie. No sign of the familiar -- but around the corner there is power. Something leaking out and stinking of death and decay the closer Zee and Jon get to the door marked 'Private'.

    And it whispers in the dark.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Having dealt with powers that require power signs to the Nth recently doesn't make the homo mage cocky about her ability to face the unknown. On the contrary, the power that itches at her senses and the smell that stops up her nose clangs enough alarms for her to be cautious. The whispers are like claws on a chalkboard.

"What do you see, Jon, anything?"

The homo mage asks a simple question, ?ohW with no expectation of an answer.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Power," Jon says. "Layered wards, spells old and new... no sign of Nettie, no sign of Corvax, but..."

    He turns toward the door marked 'Private.' "There's power leaking out from around there. Death and decay, whispers in the dark." He shudders. If anything, his encounters of the last week have made him /more/ cautious, painfully aware of how fragile and mortal he is. The Prince of Hell showed up in his office and the angel stowed in the back room of the Laughing Magician is stronger than they could have possibly imagined, so who /knows/ what this could be? Even something smaller by comparison could hurt them if they're not careful.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    At the question, the whispers hush, something seems to skitter, deeper away. The power ebs slightly, and the door marked Private is open, showing Nettie's prep area.

    The heavy table had been shoved aside. Reagents that were being prepared litter the sides of the room.

    Coming around the corner, etched on the floor and bleeding magic into the world around it, there is an active teleportation circle. Nettie's work, her scribbed handwriting decipherable only to her, looping alien coordinates.

    The echoed cawing of a crow dully circles the room, snippets of conversation about wars, students, death.

    Looking into the astral here, there are shadows. Nettie carving a circle into her forearm, preparing something big, in conversation. She seems to look through Jon, and then disappears into the circle.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Magic ruffles the air stirred by the distant echos of the crow circling its prey on some other plane. Zatanna ceremoniously touches three fingers to the middle of her forehead, opening her third eye.

"What are they talking about?" The question directed to Jon. Voices broken by mystical static fill the air, frustrating as a dropped cell phone signal. "It looks like...a spell gone bad? Someone out for her?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon shakes his head as Zatanna asks the question, attention focused toward the room where the door's swung open. "I can't quite... war? Students? Death?" He shakes his head again. "Nothing out of the ordinary, but..."

    He frowns. "I think she went somewhere. Through that circle." He starts to walk into the room, though Zatanna could surely stop him easily enough. But he's heading for the still-active circle.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    THe circle is definitely active, and Nettie's own work, struck by her hand to her own sanctuary floor.

    It was no mistake she had left the door open.

    Otherwise, everything about it was... wrong. It felt wrong. Dismal. Swampy. The atmosphere was cool in the kitchen, cool and dry, and the whispers stop, as if Zatanna and Jon were interrupting. As if something was holding its breath.

    The metallic, scratching sound comes from the circle as it gives a dull pulse.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
As automatic as putting her hand out to protect someone in the passenger seat of a heavily braking car, Zee puts an arm up to block his passage. "Wait. Sorry. I'm leery of circles I haven't drawn myself, going places that may have suckered someone as canny as that old crow." She looks at Jon oddly and suggests with a hint of embarrassment, "Let's go in together, holding hands, so we arrive in the same place."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "No, no, you're right," Jon says, face flushing dark with embarassment. "You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now." He smirks, and nods, turning to taking Zatanna's hand.

    "Right. Shall we?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    As the two mages step into the circle, destined to parts unknown, there is the feeling of being pulled back through some thick, loose substance, like being drawn backwards through foam, darkness enveloping our heroes until their vision clears.

    It is a round, organic-looking pathway. Underground, perhaps. It's hard, like thick cardboard and about the same texture underfoot. There are glowing, red strands that float through the air like cobwebs. They tingle when touched. It smells of death and decay, and there are softer spots in the walls around them. The same red light seems to eminate from glowing pustules overhead that drip some noxious, glowing liquid.

    And then a familiar voice calls out "Allo? Hallo! Has someone come to see about this mess then? Might need a hand, bit tied up at the moment."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
It feels like a crypt, smells like a crypt and the results of unhealthy magic float in the air around them. Ergo, it's someone's crazy version of a stomach underground.

Zatanna squeezes Jon's hand when Nettie's voice startles her. She chuckles nervously, "The old crow can do that to me."

The magician drops his hand to circle in place looking the walls over for a break or a door, then slowly starts toward where she thinks the voice comes from. "Yes, well, so it seems. On our way, Nettie. What got you?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's shoulders hunch at the surroundings. Nope, he doesn't like this /one/ bit. He returns the squeeze to Zatanna's hand and then, when she drops it, turns to look about himself.

    "Ugh. You could've chosen a better spot for your vacation," he comments. "Ecuador was lovely; I'd suggest that, next time."

    He hesitates, reaching out a hand toward one of the walls and then stopping himself. He doesn't think he wants to touch that /directly/. Instead, he conjures up a glowing yellow-gold hand to prod at the wall. Gently.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Looks like a crypt, smells like a crypt, quacks like a cry--

    Coming around the corner, Zee and Jon would find a bit of a cavern, lit with the same angry red, bleeding pustules. The wall gives fleshily as Jon's yellow-gold hand pokes at it, and then a slit opens, an eye rolling into being, inverted colored to his own, and then it closes and retreats again.

     "Ecuador? /Ecuador/? Too bloody hot. If I want some altitude --"

    And there, in a mass of glowing, pulsing spider webs, arcane lines drawn across her body. She's missing her shoes. She has one stocking on, and a pair of Victorian-style bloomers scraps of one of her swishy skirts and a corsetted boddice top. One of her eyes is sealed shut from a cut on her cheek, and she's upside-down, bits of her wrapped in webbing.

    Black feathers are caught in the web, and below her the familiar crow's head is twisted about, beak open.

    "-- Lhasa. Oh, to be in Lhasa again, without it being Chinese --" she mumbles crossly, and wiggles her free toes.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Once around the corner, Zee marches to stand in front of the trapped magician, frowning hard at the magic holding her in place."Shades of Ungoliant, Nettie! How about some attitude, instead! Tell us on the way out of here." Turning to John, "Be ready to catch her, please."

!sbew eht tuC"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Wh--oh good lord." Jon hastily gets rid of the hand that poked at the wall--glowing eyeball, /terrific/, lovely, just what one wants to see--and creates a nice soft pillow for Nettie to drop down onto, very large, floating in the air and also the same citrine color that all of his other constructs have been of late.

    "Spiders. Why's it have to be bloody /spiders/, Nettie?! What happened?!" His attention's focused on the construct, though, and on catching Nettie once Zatanna's spell drops her. If it all works right.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    The webs are cut! The witch is loosened, and she drops down onto the construct of the pillow, which... she pokes in curiousity. "Oooh, that's smart." she whispers quietly, and then she stands, and looks down at herself. What a mess.

    "Oh. Well. We're in a microcosm within a blood doll made of the innards of one of my students in Fleury-devant-Douaumont, in the Red Zone. Ah... I had buried some of my memories here, and was looking to get them back..." she pauses, looking blank a moment.

    "THere was a reason for it." she states, looking to Zee, and then to Jon, and then she turns to look to the web.

    "What was the reason I wanted the knowledge back again?" she asks herself "... built the circle, transmission to the left side, dropped the... and then Corvax -- oh, I'll have to get him a new body. He's probably ripe about now fluttering about that first circle... no, no, no -- focus back Nettie -- had something to do with Fleury-devant-Douaumont...." she tilts her head back, and looks up, open-mouthed.

    "... was it red because of the blood, the poison gas, or the spiders?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Enchanted stomachs and spiders, Zee raises an eyebrow, nonplussed and angry, at the old biddy. "Course you forgot. Red for the life's blood it was sucking out of you," she says angrily.

"What were you doing in the east of France? Milking cows to make cheese? We can find our way back here if you can't remember. I'd say, let's not dilly dally waiting for whatever strung you up," the concern wrinkling her forehead belies the magician's sharp tone.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "World's going to hell in a handbasket out there and you're stuck down the gullet of your own blood doll." Jon shakes his head, and with a gesture the citrine pillow unravels, becoming nothing more than so much ectoplasm.

    "Fleury-devant-Douaumont... the village that died for France. Captured and recaptured 16 times, in the 'war to end all wars.'" He shakes his head. "The world cracked open like an egg back then, old order convulsing to birth a new, and who knows yet whether the new will be any better than what came before..."

    He shakes himself. "Yes. Let's get out of here, Nettie, come on, there's been a /lot/ that's gone on and I'd rather not run into a giant spider on top of everything /else/ of late."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Yes, yes, the Red Zone, where trenches and men and women and all manner of death occured, but so too this death. Her death. This is The Great War. The War that was supposed to end All Wars and interrupted our war -- but oh, you're too young. Both of you so young, you wouldn't recall the -- well, he might, they might, not sure if--" she's suddenly stopped in her mental wandering a moment, her eyes narrowing, and then she states softly "There You Are".

    And she grasps in the air.

    "Yes. Get moving. Back to the way we came, wend around the veins and back through the chambers of the heart. This was once Amaline Guerin. She was a waif of a girl, with a talent for stitchery. I was trainingh er up to be a nurse when the war opened. Not That War." She whispers "... she was murdered, and her body left bound in wire to her bed with her sisters-in-arms. My students... oh, my poor stu--"

    There is a chittering then, and Nettie, satisfied that she has in fact been here long enough, goes to turn.

    "Right you are, poppets. Out we go!"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"The War to end all Wars? How did we do that to ourselves," she asks aghast as she reaches to steady the other magician. "Time travel, too?" She asks both Jon and Nettie, one arm hovering protectively around the woman.

"Like I said, explain when we are out of here. What's the fastest way to the heart?"

Which war she wonders but doesn't ask, not wanting a history lesson while something that sends chills up her back chitters at the door.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'm going to want to hear about this war, if my ancestors didn't know about it," Jon says as he goes to follow Nettie out of the space they're in, slightly behind the two women to watch their backs. Zatanna and Nettie can surely handle anything that might come at them from the front.

    Glancing over his shoulder, he whispers a word and pulls a shield up around himself, shimmering water like a second skin. He's been practicing his magic while Nettie's been gone.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Oh, you'll hear about it. I caught a message. Just a wee one. Thought it was about something else --" Nettie gives a pensive 'hmm'.

    The trio comes back up through the fleshy, cardboard-like passage, and comes to a fork in the road, where Zee and Jon had arrived.

    "Here we are." she states, and she holds her hands wide.

    And then pauses.

    "... duck. I killed Corvax. Anyone have the coordinates for my kitchen handy?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"I do. Erm, I should. I don't portal that way. Mind if I take us to my house first? Just in case. I'm so sorry about Corvax, he had a tongue on him that would blister a sailor's mouth," she says affectionately.

"Ready, Jon? Do you mind going the long way?" Zee settles her coat on her shoulders and unbuttons the front. The body heat and smell, getting to her.

With a finger she traces a line in the air which she widens with one hand, large enough for them to pass single file. "You first, Nettie. Then you go, Jon, please. I'll follow."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Wish I could learn to do portals," Jon says a bit wistfully. "I don't think my magic works like that, though." He'll go through the portal after Nettie, as Zee told them to do.

    "Corvax is a familiar... can you re-form a body for him or is he gone-gone?" He asks of Nettie. "If the latter... I'm very sorry." He does sound sad to hear that.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Oh, he'll be back. I just have to get a fresh chicken and do a little bit of the ol' Dark Arts, some blood, incantation, and bob's your uncle, Corvax is back." Nettie states, "I broke his neck to give the burst of energy we needed to get the message out after I got a little lost in one of my memories. Not every day I get to relive finding my students murdered, you know." NEttie states with almost a casuality about her statement as she walks, one foot bare, one stocking slipping a litle bit, in tangles of a skirt over bloomers. Both Jon and Zee would be able to see the top of the masterful seal work that keeps her soul in her physical body along her back, scarred and burned into her very flesh.

    "I'll be a bit out of sorts. Feverish, antsy -- OH! There we go --" she pauses, and she gives a hard pull on the magic, and then the three of them pop out in the kitchen at the Candle, Booke and Belle.

    The circle's glow is gone now.

    "... oh. That's what I wanted to go back and get the memories for... I needed the full extent. My whole catalogue, as it were --" Nettie pauses.

    "... the Zealots are back."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"You old...." Zee sputters, "...Necromancer! Wrenching a portal like that mid-way could have lost us!"

She scowls at the woman, all too aware of the price of calling back the dead calls for.

"I'm surprised you didn't go all out Alzheimer's on us." She shakes her head and breathes through her nose as she looks around the shop.

"How long were you gone? It looks like years. The who are back?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks a little, disoriented as they come out... not at all where they were expecting to. He rocks back a little and then gets out of the way for Zatanna to come through while she gripes at Nettie.

    "I saw her last... late October, so no longer than that. It's mid-December, Nettie, if you're curious. And there really is a lot to fill you in on."

    He turns in a slow circle to be sure there aren't any traps that got activated by coming back. "You need to find a new way to store your memories," he comments. "Astral constructs seem to work quite well."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I knew precisely what I was doing. I've been doing magic since your grandparents were in nappies, Dove. I can pull a churro order from " Nettie points out to Zee, and she opens one of her kitchen cabinets. She pulls out a Ramones T-shirt. That goes right over her boddice. She then pulls out a pair of jeans, and she strips off the bloomers and the single stocking she was wearing and goes to pull the jeans on, not caring that she's pulling clothes out of a kitchen cabinet or that she's half starkers in front of Zee and Jon. They'll get over.

    "I wasn't storing them. I was trying to be rid of them. I retired. I didn't want to do it anymore. My students were killed by Witchhunters and now they're coming back." she states, and she taps herself. She wrinkles her nose.

    "Jon, do you have a cigarette? I haven't had a smoke in six weeks."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna stares flatly at the woman, unimpressed by her lack of modesty. "You old..." Zee swallows the next word, keeping the litany of names to herself. She knows the power of language. She glowers, asking, "What did you do to attract their attention? It was you wasn't it? And, who strung you up for their next meal if you knew what you were doing?" She will let Jon be the sweetheart. Zee is feeling very bad cop at the moment.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon doesn't really seem to care one way or another as Nettie gets changed. He pulls a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket instead, offers one to Nettie along with a lighter decorated with--ironically enough--a spiderweb motif. His own he lights with a little flick of will, summoning fire from the Astral Plane long enough to light the end of the cigarette.

    He does indeed play 'good cop' though it may just be his natural inclination. "I'm sorry, Nettie. For your students, for... all of it. Witchhunters won't like any of us much, I wager." He snorts. "Just what we need, on top of rampaging angels."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Careful dove, your face'll get stuck that way." Nettie warns playfully to Zee, and she gives a bit of a small, sad smile.

    "I exist. That's enough for them. They murdered three of my students in France. I had to wipe memories of others. The Witch's War was a bad time, and there's a reason why there's so few of us old timers still hanging arou--" she pauses. She turns to Jon.

    "... I'm sorry, did you say 'Rampaging Angels'?"

    She stares, agape.

    "Bollocks lads and lasses, the blazing hells did I miss while I was stuck in my memories?!"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Hah, hah...you are not my mother. Thank all the gods." Zatanna's smile is hardly better than her previous frown. She grimaces at Nettie, all teeth, in a smile without humor then relents. "I'm glad we found you before the hunters did."

With a gesture to Jon, "He can tell you. It's quite literally not from this world or plane of existence. "And barely contained."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "There's been a demonic meat-puppet copy of John running around for a few months. When we found out, Chas fell into despair and summoned an angel to come help him 'fix the world.' What he summoned was... Michael. The Archangel. It proceeded to go on a killing spree, stringing up sinners on crosses, until we tracked it down and bound it. We've got it in the back room of the Magician, just now."

    Jon looks, and sounds, tired. "Which is only the /biggest/ thing happening out there, but I'm sure you know how the world can be. Crazy-making at the best of times." A pause. "I... perhaps it was best, you were gone for the killings. So it couldn't come after you as a witch."

    He frowns. "Witch hunters and a Witch's War doesn't sound any better. We're officially the Justice League Dark now, though, so I suppose you'll have help holding them off." A pause. "/I'll/ certainly help."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "They wouldn't have found me. I was in a pocket dimension created from the heart of one of my perished students. Just happened to be frought with spiders, took a wrong turn, they supped on a few more of my memories, I pulled others back from them. Give and take." She lights her death stick, and then hands the lighter back to Jon.

    "Aye, pretty sure if I was your mum, you'd be far worse on the eyes. An' short." she states, and she just looks thoughtful a moment, and she frowns.

    "That... must be being taken hard by the pups. They were particularly drawn to him." she frowns again, and takes a drag of her ciagrette, and she tilts her head back and rubs the back of her head, silver-white hair sticking out all over the place.

    "I reckon we have six months of prep time before the Zealots come to NEw York. Batten down hatches in the South where they have more sway in the Bible Belt. Watch for their Revival Tents -- everyone should be ready, because they'll have their own Holy Roller casters and they don't take prisoners." she puffs away a moment.

    "You're going to have to become far, far more comfortable killing others, Jon boy."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"True," the magician replies drily, looking down at the short women with a faint smile.

"Pocket dimension? You and Constantine, who appears unchanged for the better, by the way."

She shakes her head sadly at what Nettie tells Jon, "You know what that does to us. I'm useless if it requires killing. Lock them up and throw away the key, yes.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'm no good at it, Nettie," Jon says softly. "I'm a healer, not a fighter. I'm far, far better at shields and mending and healing than anything offensive." He takes a long drag on his cigarette. "I'll do my best, but..." He shakes his head, glances to Zatanna. She understands, at least.

    "Don't worry, though. There's others 'round here that'll kill. We'll be ready when these Zealots come." He smirks. "Assuming the world lasts the next six months. No pressure, right?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mmmn." Nettie just gives a little smile, a wicked little thing that is dripping with just that touch of madness and darkness.

    "Luckily, Poppets, I'm one who doesn't mind getting her hands dirty if it means savin' the pups. We got six months, an angel to bugger, and a whole lot of people who will need trainin'." she takes another drag, and looks between the two younger mages.

    "Now, I'm going to need a chicken, or turkey, or budgie. Live. I've got a crow to bring back."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"That's an interesting assumption to make, Jon. Apparently the world ended recently, Nettie, it all stopped and resumed. I wish I remembered, I thought I had blacked out during the fight with our hardly angelic angel."

"I don't want to be around when you call him back. Looking the other way is as bad as doing it myself, Nettie." Nose wrinkled, she asks, "Where do you usually get your live subjects from?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Live animal markets and farms. An' that's fine, Dove. Not your soul I besmirch." Nettie gives a grin.

    "I'll get it myself. You have other things to concern about with that apartment so close to where the high things fall~."

    And with that, Nettie goes to collect some shoes, and head out the door.