Too Many Questions, Too Few Answers...(IC)

[KnightDisciple]

Cobalt Templar's breathing slows. He's still shaky, but the obvious threat is gone. He hauls himself to a seated position on the closest available crate, taking several deep, semi-calming breaths. AT this point, his armor is entirely gone, and he's in just the cloth suit and his mask.

He looks to be a boy in his late teens, perhaps 20 at the outside edge. His hands were still shaking as he lifted his gaze to look at Push.

"That...that thing. It knew things, Push. About all of us. It knew this ring. It had been here for less than a minute, and it not only knew this Ring, but it wanted to kill me just for using it. A demon, probably from the deepest pits of Hell, and it targeted me first."

He raises his still-shaking right hand and tries to summon his power. A small wisp of flame comes out, but nothing else.

"You'll forgive me if it's left me a bit off-balance. It's almost like someone made the floor shake under me."

[Quinn]

Push stood and listened to him, eyes going stony. For a second he stood there, and looked at the others, then reached up and unwound his scarf. His face was slightly gaunt, beardless, easily in his early 20s. Grey eyes, a slightly upturned mouth, and a shock of black hair poked out from underneath his wool cap. He spoke quietly.

"Aside from the fact that yeah, I kinda did make the floor shake earlier...yeah, it does knock you for a loop. I'm not going to say I've faced things like that before, 'cause I'd be lyin', but I have fought it's kin. Denizens of Old Night, beasts and beings that should not exist, could not exist, but they do. And I'll tell you no lies, it never does get easier, no matter how many times they show up and stare into your mind."

He shook his head, holding out a hand for the blue-armored wonder.

"But I'll tell you this. These things, they feed on fear, on pain. Which is why we're around. We're heroes, Templar. It's an occupational hazard, I'll grant you, but we're the ones who take the blows so that others don't. Maybe that makes it easier, I don't know...but I damn sure know that some folks here in Freedom City'll sleep better 'cause we were in the wrong place at the right time. And either way, I'm damn proud that I got to fight beside you today."

The solemn mouth quirked in a grin.

"Besides, did you see the look on that thing's face when Dragonfly vaped it? Comedy gold."

[Fox]

Dragonfly rolled her eyes. "Glad you're amused by the fear-manipulating, fear-reading monster. Please stop implying I killed it. Know very little about magic and demons, but highly suspect it's not dead. Never that easy. Probably better that way."

She stood back up, feeling a little steadier on her feet. Reaching into one of her pouches, the young woman pulled out a handful of zip ties and started making rounds through the unconscious cultists, binding hands and feet. She was muttering something, although what snippets of it could be heard sounded Russian...and angry. "Too much to ask," she called back, "to suppose someone called the police already?"

[Dr Archeville]

"Smart girl's smart," Dead Head said as he began tending to the felled zombies, untangling their bodies and laying them out in neat rows. "Spirit like that don't go down easy, not fer good... but I don't think he's gonna be botherin' us again anytime soon."

Mutt padded over to Dead Head, and let out a low whine.

"I know, boy, we go a lotta work to do. But it coulda gone a lot worse." The spirit-dog helped him move the corpses, as best he could.

I hope it ain't comin' back soon. It did a number on Ironclad an' Cobalt Templar, an' brought up a lotta unfortunate stuff.

Dead Head turned his head to face the others, "uh, any'a you got a phone? I ain't, so I cain't call the cops. An' what's the story with that ring," he called to CT, "if'n ya don't mind tellin'. Nasty demon like that, goin' after you fer it, must mean that's got some pow'rful mojo in it."

He looked back at the bodies, and muttered, "man, this used ta be easier in tha old days."

[KnightDisciple]

Cobalt Templar looks at Push with...not a glare, but he clearly wasn't "inspired", or even amused, by the other hero's words. He held up the hand with his ring on it.

"Don't you get it, Push? I did nothing in this fight. You know why? Because I lost my powers when I let the fear take hold. Do you know what that felt like? Not only did I have a horrible demon cry out and bring up a bad memory, not only did the same demon come flying at me trying to kill me, but I couldn't even fight back! This has never happened before. So sorry, but I'm not exactly feeling heroic or inspired right now. The others are right, this isn't a time for comedy."

He turns to look at Dragonfly, smiling a bit.

"Thanks for the save there, Dragonfly. Not sure how that would have gone down if you hadn't stepped in."

He turned to face Dead Head, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Not much on arcane studies or the like, but I agree. That thing's not done for. Just delayed. As for the ring..."

Finally, the shaking in his hands and voice had stopped. The boy's confidence seemed to have returned as he stood, holding out the ring. In a flash, he was clothed in that shining blue armor, the ethereal red cape flapping behind him.

"I found it in the Middle East. For various reasons, I wont' be more specific. I'm trying to figure out who made it, where it originated from, and even what it's fully capable of. Unfortunately, I haven't cracked the code yet. It's rather potent, though. Let's me do a lot of things, just with a thought."

He then reached into a suddenly-manifested pocket, and pulled out a cell phone.

"I'll make the call."

Walking away from the others a bit, CT dialed the local police number, then gave his name and a short summary of the events, asking for officers to come by and pick up the cultists.

[Quinn]

Push simply retracted the hand, his mouth pursed under the scarf, then he sighed and turned towards the altar yet again, shoulders hunched.

Cops. Great. Come on, Scratch, this whole thing stinks of your handiwork...give me something to work with here...

Out of all the texts on the podium, the ritual itself was all one page, and he looked at it askance. Magic wasn't his strong point, even though he'd run into it more than once. Still, something seemed...off...about it. Either way, it was the only clue he had. The language on it was definitley old, too, and it was written on old-school parchment. He took out his mini-cam and snapped a quick picture of both sides, leaving the page itself as evidence for the police.

Hmm...this might be what I'm looking for...

Leave the rest for the cops, then. Still, knowing Scratch, the place would be sufficiently removed from anything near him. But it was the only lead he had anyway. He stepped down off of the podium, thoughts moving through his mind as he considered how to swiftly disappear. Bending down, he began helping to move the zombie remains along with Dead Head, keeping himself busy with work while the others discussed.

[Raveled]

Ironclad disappeared in a flash of golden light. She dashed across the campus commons, literally too fast to be seen but nevertheless tracked by a half dozen systems that vetted her as a guest. The library was a single large room on the ground floor of the teaching building. The heroine slowed as she approached the door and adopted a slow, careful gait; even with her mind in the state it was in, she subconsciously tried to keep the noise down.

Ironclad walked through the library, drawing no more than the occasional odd glance from the other students. There were several places where long tables were laid out for study and she finally found Blake at one, his nose in a book. Just the sight of him whole and hale quelled the loudest of her eats, and she retreated out of sight behind a shelf. There was one of the rolling footstools there, and Ironclad gratefully sank to the seat, trying to quiet her mind.

[Fox]

Dragonfly shook her head as she bound the last of the cultists she could find, looking Cobalt Templar's way with no small sympathy. "...happens," she finally said, once he'd finished his call to the police. "Bad luck, or unfortunately-powered enemies, or...." She shrugged, standing up to stretch her arms up above her head. "Ended one of my earlier fights being held as a hostage. Hurts pride, but...can bounce back. Besides, didn't do anything special. You would have done the same, if I'd been in your position."

She glanced up, frowning at Push and then looking over at where Ironclad had disappeared. wonder where she went - was in a hurry - something the fear creature did? The frown deepened a little bit and lights danced behind her eyes as she connected to the cell phone one of her pouches, firing off a quick text message. Evil stopped. No serious injuries. You okay?

[Raveled]

Ironclad started when her message indicator beeped at her. It took her a few tries to stab the icon, but as she read and re-read her friend's message her mind grew calmer, her emotions more under control. She tapped back a reply a few minutes later; I'm fine. Just, suddenly had to check on Blake. Can't really explain it, actually. Just suddenly knew I had to make sure. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Um. Should I be hurrying back with the cavalry?

[Fox]

Dragonfly shook her head - though from the perspective of anyone nearby, for absolutely no reason at all. No - seems fine here. Creepy, but no threats. She glanced at Push. No...villain threats. You should relax...make sure you're okay. Weren't the only one to get hit with something. Guy with the ring lost control of his powers, looks like.

Gingerly touching the side of her head, she frowned. going to need to ice that - annoying - cold enough as it is "Ironclad's fine," she announced, apparently out of the blue. "Got compelled to go visit someone. Not in any danger, let her know we aren't either."

[KnightDisciple]

Cobalt Templar had wrapped up his phone call just a few moments ago, but it was still soon enough that he heard the statement about Ironclad's location. He gave an understanding nod.

"We did fine here, so make sure she knows it's not a big deal. Glad to hear she's safe. The cops should be here in just a minute or two."

Seeing Push examining the book on the podium, CT gives a thoughtful frown and floats over, casting his gaze upon its pages, trying to see if he can recognize the language it's printed in.

"Hm. How-to instruction book?"

The question seemed more rhetorical than anything.

[Quinn]

Push looked up and motioned to the words, written in English on the page, shrugging.

"Not likely. Take a look at the page beside it, the one with the real old-school language, old parchment...yeah, book was bought local, the stuff inside's probably that (he thumbed behind him, presumably at the unconscious head cultist) idiot's version of a journal."

Flipping over a few more pages, he pointed out various spots to Templar, the cultist's journal writings revealing several weeks of preparation and planning for the one ritual. Some discussions about a "Mr. Webster", some rantings on the glory of the Horned One, cleansing of the unclean and so on. Push made some mental notes to check the locations the cultist had met with "Mr. Webster". He leaned on the podium, rubbing the back of his head with a groan.

"Eeeehh...fewer leads than I'd have liked, but more than I've gotten recently. Leastways I know he's in Freedom City..."

Push shook his head, flipping the book closed and shoving the cameraback into the bag and turning to face the others.

"Look, might not have been the most civil I could've been when you showed up earlier. So...thanks. Don't think I could've pulled this off alone."

[KnightDisciple]

Cobalt Templar frowned more deeply.

"It's almost like someone translated this for them, then sold it to them. Or something. Hm. Journal..."

He gave a huff of annoyance as he flipped the pages, paying more attention to the older stuff.

"Why couldn't it have been in Latin? Isn't that the go-to magic language? I could have read Latin fine, but nnnoooo, they had to be all hardcore and go with...Germanic, I think."

He glanced back at the cultists.

"I'd say we should note to the police this is a potentially dangerous magical artifact. I'm sure they have procedures for this sort of thing. And you're welcome."

Suddenly, curiosity washed over his face as he turned to level his gaze at Push.

"Wait. Who is in Freedom City, and exactly what do you mean by "leads"?"

[Fox]

Dragonfly was leaning up against some crates again, ignoring her headache through willpower and a lot of practice. "'Mr. Scratch'," she supplied, eyes closed. "Common alias 'Dr. Daniel Webster', owns the warehouse. Ambulatory disaster zone has been looking for him for a long time. Tracked him here. Book may give leads on further pursuit."

She sighed, gingerly touching the side of her head again. "And you're welcome."