KnightDisciple

Carson shook Lynn's hand with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Lynn. I'm from Freedom City." He turned for a moment to Jack senior, giving him a nod of understanding. "I'm sure Stesha will understand; just you being here is the important part, right?" As Doktor Viktor Archeville and Mona "Fulcrum" Teymourian appeared, Carson's eyebrows nearly met his hairline. 'Wow. Nice toys.' He gave the two a polite nod, but gave the group who seemed to know each other some space. For Mark, he had a smile and a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, Mark. Don't know if you caught my name; it's Carson. I know Stesha pretty well; our paths have crossed through work. Don't know Derrick quite as well, but he's good people. Glad to hear they've got appreciative students; that's something hard to find these days." He gives the young man a knowing wink, showing he's exaggerating a bit. Carson's mingling is interspersed with occasional checks of his watch, as he keeps an eye on the time, with a mental clock slowly counting down...

Gabriel raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, a smile on his face. "I stand corrected, ma'am. I suppose we just tend to work on different problems, which means our paths don't cross that much. Though..how often does magical trouble crop up? The kind that involves consultations, not the kind that involves supervillains."

Corbin's surprise as Quo-Dis suddenly floated up a few inches was enhanced when she kissed him. Of course, surprise soon changed to enjoyment. After all, he hadn't said they couldn't kiss or anything... When they were finished, there was a goofy grin on his face. "I guess that cheesy speech wasn't so bad after all. And, uh, thanks." He offers her his left arm, a mischievous grin on his face. He guided the two of them towards the blissful couple. "Why my dear lady, my morals certainly do include paying for my companion's gelato." He glanced around, and when they were fairly close to Blake and Jessica, he used a gentle push from his TK to tap Blake on the shoulder. "Are we leaving you two out here, or shall we all go in?"

(Most likely reserved for an NPC I'm planning on.) Yellow Ring Color: Yellow Emotion/Mind-state: Cunning, Sadism Intended Role: Illusionist, Confuser of Enemies. Summary: The Yellow Ring is a weapon that clearly shows the intentional group focus of these artifacts; while only average on its own, paired with one or more other ring-users, it becomes truly deadly. Illusions to distract, Confusion and Fear to disorient, and Blast to help finish them off. Teleportation means he stays mobile and unpredictable. Powerset: When "x" is used, it denotes a number that can be adjusted by the player, to best fit it to the individual character (especially their PL) Notes: This one's interesting. He's meant to mess up opponents on the battlefield, but he's not the best at fighting alone. He's going to be physically less resilient than most of the other ring-users; on the flip side, he has to fight smart. Luckily, his powers let him do that pretty easily. Also, he needs to try staying mobile when possible; Teleport's handy like that. This guy steals a fair bit from Blozan; adding Drain Wisdom to his Array is possible, but not necessarily the best choice. However, the Drain Fearless is kind of integral to a character who operates off of fear. Fearsome Presence has potential, but does kind of overlap with some of the other abilities.

Corbin huffed to himself in the basement. "Cheater." With a flash of blue fire, he was flying back up the stairs and out...well, out a door other than the garage, if he could find it. He then flew at top speed into the air for a bit, before arcing back down, his eyes searching for Blake's whereabouts.

"No offense, but I'd rather not have you poking around at the magic on my ring, no. I'd be hesitant to let Eldritch mess around with it." At Blake's suggestion, he blinked, before a smile slowly spread across his face. In a flash of blue fire, he was in his costume. "The criminals won't know what hit them."

The cold night air had helped clear Corbin's head a bit, and calm down his racing heart. During the drive, he'd noticed Quo-Dis's sudden change in mood, but gave her time to think it through. "Thank you, Quo-Dis. I'm sorry for any mixed signals I've been giving you. It's just that we haven't gone on more than a couple of dates; I'd...I dunno. This is an awkward subject in some ways for me, so I'd been kind of putting it off for another couple of dates." He smiled a bit. "I've spent my whole life learning my values. Mostly from my parents; it's just that a lot of the lessons were from me watching them. I look at them, and I see the kind of thing I want in my life, you know? That's why I was so insistent in there; not because I find you unattractive, but because I have a clear picture in my head...Though I suppose such things change over time. As for understanding how other people think..." He gave a rueful shake of his head. "There are days I don't understand my own thought processes. Understanding others can be even tougher, so I sympathize with you there. All I can say is that observation tends to teach me better than lectures and reading from books." At her question, he frowned, his hands tightening on the wheel a bit. "If they do, I'll punch them upside the head. You listen and you listen good, Quo-Dis." He suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and turned to face her, his eyes fierce with an inner fire of conviction. "You. Are. Not. A. Freak. Don't you ever let yourself think that. Doesn't matter what anyone else says. You're just you, you understand? People who resort to the label "freak" for someone are lazy cowards who can't be bothered to try understanding someone. It's fine to disagree about opinions and lifestyles; it's part of the human condition. But objectifying someone by calling them a "freak"? No. Hell no. You're a beautiful girl, you're your own person, and that's that. If I ever say different, you have permission to hit me upside the head. I promise I'll be able to take the hit." With that, he peeled out getting back on the road, trying to make up time as they caught up with the others, now not far from their destination.

Corbin gave a non-committal "hmm" a the bat's performance. "Yeah, I can see where that would be really bad if you're not fighting a giant robot or golem or something. Still, looks like you're almost there. I bet soon, you'll be a walking arsenal of magical gear. You'll probably need a magic bag to hold it all!" He frowns as he glances down at his ring. "I feel like...not that I've "peaked", but like there's a roadblock or something that's keeping me from getting any higher performance out of my ring. Maybe I just need more practice, or more time, you know? I feel like there's so much potential for me, I just need to figure out how to grab it."

That sounds solid. The Power Corps aren't being used a whole lot, and making the Khanate the "main villains" would a.)help differentiate the story, and b.)more easily explain crazy alien technology.

At the front of the sanctuary, well to one side of the pulpit, was the area for the small number of musicians who had been arranged for the day. Piano, organist, a string quartet, a vocalist, and one man playing an oboe. That man had re-arranged his space a bit, putting aside the music stand, so that when he was playing, he could concentrate on following along by ear. His chair was separated a bit; perhaps he was doing a special number, or maybe he just liked to move when he played. Carson Finbar Keefe blew one last test note through his classical oboe before setting it carefully on his chair and walking toward the open entrance of the church. His suit was mostly subdued, with a black jacket, black pants, and a dark gray shirt. The one standout piece was a bright white tie with delicate Celtic patterns (crosses, knots, and the like) scattered over it in gold. Clearly, he was trying to ensure he didn't draw attention away from the bride on such an auspicious occasion. He slowed as he reached the door, his eyes taking in some of the recent arrivals, or the individuals who had been there for a bit already. He smiled slightly at the father doting over his infant son, and the young woman gushing over the presence of a baby (as they seemed wont to do). Poor guy was just sitting out here. His wife was probably helping Stesha get ready. Carson walked down to stand about even with where Jack and his son were resting on the steps. A smile graced his face as he gazed upon the young boy, not knowing the power buried in his tiny form. "He does look like a fine boy. Let me guess, he's growing like a weed?" He started to offer his hand, then stopped with a chuckle as he realized Jack's hands were busy. "Name's Carson. I'm doing the music today; I know we have nursery space inside, but I hope the little guy will get a chance to enjoy at least some of it. Glad to see so many people already here." He turned and offered Lynn his hand as well. "Nice to meet you as well, ma'am."

Corbin just shook his head with a rueful smirk at the "hidden entrance". Typical Blake. He calmly walked behind his friend, nodding at various points as he explained his various magical gizmos and doo-dads. When the demonstration was over, he spoke. "Very nice. Seems like you're as, or even better, equipped now than you were with your old powers. And, correct me if I'm wrong, you're less worried about their origins, yes? As for "boring", doesn't mean they aren't useful. Whatever keeps you alive and fighting the good fight, man. Though...I notice you're not really equipped in case your opponent gets in your face. You just going to rely on your Nikes for situations like that? And I'm guessing you've got the know-how and gear to eventually cook up more goodies?"

Corbin was feeling just a mite uncomfortable at this point. 'Why is it so warm in here. I thought these pants were the right size a minute ago. I have no idea what to say! She's talking about cherries! Pretty girl! Hubbah hubbah!' Clearly his brain wasn't getting any more rational. Finally, that tiny voice of self-control in the back of his head manages to punch its way forward enough to let Corbin speak coherently. "Uh...well, that is...Dessert. Dessert is good. I like dessert. Especially chocolate. But cherries are good. I like cherries on a sundae. Or in pie. I like pie. Pie is good. Cherries are good." He pauses, and whispers so that hopefully only Quo-Dis hears him. "You're really pretty."

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at Robin's comments. Whatever blush may have graced his face was hidden by his mask; thankfully, thoughts of Robin in spandex didn't last too long. He glanced at the menu, before nodding and setting it aside. "I'll have an order of the stuffed shells. Beef sauce mix, if you please." After their waiter departed, he turned to Robin, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Not everyone needs the dual identity. Just some; depends on your circumstances, really. Long nights isn't exclusive to heroing. I prefer flying over buildings. An as you can see, spandex isn't required. Then again, I think the good Lord knew this world didn't need to see my skinny self in spandex, so I was graced with a more comfortable suit." He leaned back a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you're telling me that even with your, ah, magical aptitude, you've never done anything resembling "hero work"? Ever? Forgive me if I say that seems like a bit of a waste."

Corbin chewed thoughtfully. "Ultra-cultist? Hm. That's worrisome. Any signs he's targeting other mystical heroes. I myself might have reason to be concerned..." Suddenly, telekinesis gives Blake a light smack upside the head. "Why didn't you call me when you were in the hospital? Let me know what was going on? I know I'm not your girlfriend or anything, but I was worried, dude. At least you, ah, "landed on your feet". Good thing favors were owed, I suppose." He smirks, suddenly. "So, a young man formerly wielding the chaotic powers of Cthulu, now an aspiring mage living in one of the worst parts of Freedom City. He fights crime. Your life sounds like a cheesy SyFy movie. That means you're doing something right. Heck yeah I want to see your new gear." He polished off the sandwich and stood expectantly.

Corbin took everything in with the not-quite-trained eyes of an aspiring archeologist, who happens to be a superhero as well. He casually takes a sandwich, starting in with slow, careful bites. An eyebrow was quirked at the clash of decoration. "Interesting decoration. As for the whole shebang...very nice. No offense meant, buddy, but I'm guessing you had some help on this one?" His face and tone turned serious as he locked gazes with Blake. "What happened, man? In a month you go from a squid-faced student at Claremont to a dude living in a magic Tardis house in Southside. What's going on?"

Gabriel jerked his hand a bit and took a step in the opposite direction, looking a bit uncertain. His other hand rubbed his chest, a slightly pained frown coming over his face. "Yeah, no problem. It's kind of what I do, really. Though..." He paused, clearly trying to determine how to say this. "In the future, if you're going to be running around this area a lot, do you mind giving me a call? I'm not super-territorial or anything, but the people around here get really nervous about...well, about the undead. After that incident near the end of October..."

Corbin paused at the entry into the house proper. He blinked a few times, before taking a half-step back, his gaze returning to the garage, and the brief glimpse of the street outside before the garage door closed. Then he stepped back inside, moving a bit further. A thoughtful frown crossed his face as he looked here and there, taking everything in. Finally, he turned to Blake, his expression one reserved for only the most serious of conversations... "Magic?"

Corbin quirked an eyebrow. "Curiouser and curiouser." And indeed, he was careful as he pulled in, hanging up his cell phone and tucking it away before the car moved any further. Once he was fully stopped, he shut it off and climbed out, taking in the highly contrasted setting. He then looked for either Blake, or the most apparent door further into the house.

Dok has some good points. I say we make it the Foundry; they might have a better explanation for why they're in something like the Carrier. Speaking of which, I say we make The Carrier second-generation salvage. That is, not only are we salvaging it, but the Foundry was actually salvaging it, too. When the Iron Knights fight the Foundry, only its basic functions are up and running. That could give various members of the group time to earn a couple PP, to more easily invest corporately in the HQ. Then, we can have the big ceremony or something where their shiny new HQ is brought fully online.

*Raises hand* Yo!

I don't have a character quite as ready as Quote, but likely next month I should have enough PP on Gabe for my 3rd slot, which means my Tech-based hero will come into play. He'll be all over this action.

Corbin blinked at the greeting, before speaking up, confusion in his voice. "Blake's what now? Blake, it's me, Corbin. You texted me, asking me to drive my ass out here with no other explanation after you disappeared for something like a month! I'm sitting in the driveway of an abandoned building; where do I go now?" Make that "confusion mixed with irritation".

It was a clear, crisp January morning that found Corbin Hughes driving through Southside in his well-used Mercedes car. 'I'm glad this car's older; I rather don't like some of these side alleys...' He wasn't truly worried; he honestly doubted any of these thugs could even bruise him right now. What thugs he thought he saw, anyways. He tried not to speculate, it was rude. Frankly, he was worried about Blake. The same day Corbin had noticed he hadn't heard from his friend for a couple of days, he discovered that Blake Salazar was in the hospital. Of course, he couldn't get in to see him. Then, right after he'd been released, he'd up and moved out with barely a word to anyone! Finally, Blake had sent Corbin a short text, giving him his new address, and asking him to drop by when he was able. Thus, Corbin was pulling up into the driveway of a seemingly abandoned house, a huge frown on his face as he idled in the driveway and pulled out his cell phone. He quickly dialed Blake.

Now that his target was immobilized, Gabriel jogged a few feet forward on the catwalk, braced his feet, grabbed his right wrist with his left hand (thus bracing his arm as well), and carefully fired tightly focused sound waves at Terror. Instead of just trying to knock the brute out, he was seeking to disrupt his normally super-tough skin enough that Powerhouse could get a more telling blow through. But he recalled that this wasn't super-successful last time. "If this doesn't work, just toss him off the catwalk! He'll hit the bottom of the blimp, and be fine, and we can move onwards!" he called out to his impromptu teammate.

This time, I'm doing a Ranged Drain Toughness. Attack Roll: 12+10=22 I need a Fort Save DC 21 from Terror.