So… Been a while, huh? Yeah, I don't really have anything to say except life is busy. A sibling got married, and the whole lead-up and aftermath of the occasion demanded a lot of work from the whole family. On top of that I'm currently gearing up for the impending start of Graduate School.

But those are just excuses. This chapter was just really damn hard to write for me, not entirely sure why. And it still isn't really as good as I had hoped, in my opinion. But, after wasting so much time on it, I feel like I just want to be done with it and move on to the next one. I'll probably put it through another pass of proofreading in the future, when I'm less fed up with even thinking about this chapter. I apologize to anyone that may have been looking forward to this that finds themselves unsatisfied.

For the future of this, let me make it clear that I have given up on consistency. Clearly I cannot be trusted to stick to a schedule. But if I do give up on writing the story entirely I will make it perfectly obvious. The description and/or title will be edited to reflect it if I drop this.

The van stopped a few doors down from the brownstone which Gabbai told me was our target. Seven people, myself included, exited the vehicle while the driver stayed in his seat, ready to depart at a moment's notice.

I adjusted my facemask and safety goggles as we approached the front door. Gabbai was right in the middle of the five other people, probably the safest place for someone of such an advanced age. Meanwhile, I was walking a few paces behind. We definitely weren't blending in, but I suppose that was why the scheduled time was so late. Less people on the streets, especially since this was a residential block.

Once at the entrance, I realized that I hadn't actually heard how we planned to get in. Surely not by knocking, right? Maybe one of them could pick the lock, or they'd simply break the door down? I watched carefully as Gabbai gestured towards one of the men flanking him. "Malkus, get it open," he directed his lanky subordinate.

The man ambled up towards the door and pinched the doorknob between his thumb and index finger, and then started to move the two digits back and forth. Though the sight confused me, no one else seemed to be surprised so I gave it some time and continued to watch. A few seconds later, though, I noticed a silvery cord beginning to form in Malkus' hand while the knob seemed to diminish in size.

I think I got the idea. Malkus referred to punitive flagellation. With an assumed name like that I'd expect a whip, and his power seemed able to provide. My best guess was that he could turn materials into ropes that, based on how the one he made from the handle moved, would be flexible regardless of what they were made from.

And as a side benefit he could easily destroy things, given time, by turning them into strands.

Of course that was all just what I got from observation and deduction. There were probably minutiae to it that weren't easily gleaned through a single demonstration. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that I knew the cape-name's origin I probably wouldn't have pieced even that much together.

Regardless of how it happened, the door was now unlocked by virtue of no longer having a locking mechanism. For good measure, it seemed like he took a bit of material off the edges of the door to reduce any sound that would be made from opening it. "It's finished," the man declared, stepping back and examining the continuous cord made of metal from the lock and wood from the door in his hands.

Gabbai nodded in acknowledgement. "On the count of three, then. Ploni, you're opening it," he directed. The one person, other than myself, that wasn't garbed in suit and tie stepped up. That pseudonym was the biblical "John Doe", so it was interesting that they stood out the most in this group. I assumed it had something to do with their power, but there was nothing to help me deduce what that might be.

Once again, though, that didn't actually matter.

The androgynous trenchcoat wearing figure stood by the door as the count went down. At three, they swung it open in a nearly silent motion. Without further ado, we all filed inside. It looked to be structured with a different apartment on each of the three stories, but I had been told in the van that the whole thing belonged to the Adepts. I guess they must have had serious cash, to afford all of that.

Right now we were in the narrow stairway that connected each individual apartment. As we had planned, my job was to stay behind and make sure no one came up behind them unnoticed. To that end, the decision was made in advance that they'd be starting with the top floor and working their way down. That way, if anyone did come running, I'd have the high ground. Since we had gotten in without being noticed, that left us free to stick to the plan.

They all walked up to the third floor, with me trailing behind and planting two of my chemtrops down on the stairs. If someone were to come rushing upstairs and see me, it would be unlikely for them to look downwards and notice the traps. At least, that was what the intuition from Trap Layer told me. Distract them with the baton, no matter how unskilled I'd be with it, and they'd run to their metaphorical doom like metaphorical sheep to the metaphorical slaughter. I'd like to see anyone try to fight me with Tremble and Mindcloud running through their system!

A message to whichever cosmic powers, hopefully the god I believe in, are listening: Please don't take that as a challenge, I'd much prefer an effortless and safe victory.

Malkus repeated his trick on the doorknob, adding another segment of what was probably brass to the end of his rope. And then they busted in, no longer trying to keep quiet. It wasn't clear if anyone on the lower floors noticed, but they'd probably be alerted soon by the alarmed cries that began to resound from the third floor. I'm sure there was some cool cape combat going on over there, but alas it was my duty to watch the stairs rather than the fighting.

I heard a door down below swing open hard enough that it bounced off the wall. I guess a boring bit of guard duty was too much to ask for. A single set of footsteps rang out through the stairwell, and I easily determined that it must have come from the ground floor. The sounds stopped at the second floor apartment entrance, replaced by furious knocking and a woman's voice yelling "Take off your fucking headphones, there's something going on upstairs!" The knocking continued for a few more seconds.

Research Notes (Van Helsing) (200CP) Dark Journal (Van Helsing) (200CP)

Huh, that was different. Two separate gears slotted into my head, with a third empty slot suggesting an incomplete set. The duo I received were just books, though. I couldn't really get a grasp on what was contained therein, aside from one being about biology and the other being about dark rituals.

I guess the idea was that I had to read and learn from them myself?

It was pretty convenient, though, since now really wouldn't have been a good time to deal with a sudden block of information being jabbed into my brain. Hell, in the seconds I spent just processing this small amount the woman had reached the landing below me. TIme seemed to freeze when we locked eyes, though that was probably the adrenaline. The "IV" printed on her sleeve marked her as one of the low tier members.

This was a key moment. If I played this right she'd step right onto a Chemtrop. Conversely, if I flubbed it then the trap would be obvious.

Or she could be a Blaster and just incapacitate me without getting close. Well, if that was the case my loss would be foregone regardless.

"You're not supposed to be here," I stated dumbly, trying to act like I was not expecting company. At the same time, I moved closer to the railing as if I was trying to make myself seem smaller. Hopefully that would serve to subtly encourage her to ascend on the opposite side, closer to my traps. My right hand gripped the baton inexpertly while my left dug into my pocket and started searching for something.

I wasn't actually trying to retrieve any tools, though. All that mattered was that she thought I had some tricks up my sleeve, or in my pocket anyways. The lab equipment wardrobe I had would make my Tinker status obvious, so it would be naturally concerning to see me fumbling around for some mystery item. Concerning enough that one wouldn't even think to look down.

As I had hoped, a worried expression spread over the lady's face. For a moment she remained stationary, perhaps weighing the odds between assault and retreat, but, to her credit, she started darting up the stairs quickly. If I wasn't baiting her, that would have been the right choice.

My fake panic turned a lot more realistic when she failed to step on the first Chemtrop. Even though it was only a fluke, since her steps were far from deliberate and she hadn't even looked down, that was still a bad sign. Somehow, the possibility that she'd simply avoid triggering my win condition by pure chance had slipped my mind. The hand in my pocket started searching for real, desperately feeling for the glue bomb I had stowed away.

Thankfully, when she went past the second trap, the woman let out a cry of pain. Despite experiencing a hole being ripped into their foot, they actually kept going for one more step. Then the Tremble hit. It didn't matter who you were, when the nerves in your leg stopped responding properly it was very hard to stay standing.

She only barely managed to get her arms out in time to prevent a high speed collision between her face and the ground. Yep, Tremble was definitely a good addition to the payload. Since it had an instant effect on the leg, and quickly started to spread upwards, a lot of time was wasted for the victim while the Mind Cloud reached the brain.

I had no idea how long that would take, though, so it would probably be prudent to use my baton now. She had been getting someone's attention on the second floor, prior to confronting me, so I'd probably have company before the drugs made her practically blind to the surroundings. Not to mention, she was still trying to reach an arm out towards me.

Rushing towards me without any weapons did suggest some sort of power that required touch or had a short range, I think they were called Striker powers. The fact that she was still trying to touch me reinforced that suspicion. After a few long seconds of hesitation, I raised up the weapon and brought it down on her hand. A tad more brutal than might be necessary, but I wasn't taking chances.

It was hard to tell how much damage the blow did to her hand. Sure the pain ripped a fresh scream from the woman's throat, but hand injuries hurt a lot even when they weren't that serious. Maybe I should do it again? Yeah, that sounded good.

However, when I tried to raise my arm back up I was met with a surprise. To be specific, the baton didn't seem to want to move. After about a foot of motion, it suddenly felt as if I was trying to pull it against a solid wall. Since I was putting a lot of force into it, the weapon was effectively forced out of my hands. It clattered down almost all of the steps, before suddenly stopping on solid air a few feet from the landing.

Was this because it had touched her? I couldn't really tell what was going on with the baton, but if I were to guess it was probably something like selectively permeable forcefields.

I probably shouldn't have taken the time to think about it, though, because my opponent clearly had a bit more fight left in her than expected. That was a fact I only noticed when I felt something brush against the top of my ankle. I reflexively jumped back, only to feel myself collide with a wall that definitely wasn't that close earlier. Which is to say, I hit a barrier that didn't exist a few seconds ago.

Well, she had already affected me. That meant there was no reason not to hit her again. Well, that was all rationalization, in truth I was simply angry. Before I really got a hold of myself, I had landed a sharp kick on their shoulder. Combined with the Tremble spreading through her muscles and the Mind Cloud dulling her forebrain, this caused them to start sliding down the steps in quite the painful looking manner.

Shadow Economy (Lords of the Night - Liches) (100CP)

Discreet Purchaser (Lords of the Night - Liches) (100CP)

Uh, well this would have been useful a few days ago. Hell, if I had gotten this to start with instead of Chemist then I'd never be in this situation to start with! Wouldn't have needed any help whatsoever to get established.

Essentially, Shadow Economy gave me the superpower of being rich. Like, nearly one million golden coins per year. And all taken care of discretely and behind the scenes, so there wouldn't be any issues with managing the wealth or accessing it when needed. That, on its own, would be a godsend.

Discreet Purchaser took it up to another level, though. I got a pool of money half the size of Shadow Economy's that would be pulled from to provide me items without any need to actually purchase them from an existing source. Things that weren't sold anywhere, or that didn't actually exist, could potentially be obtained with ease now just by wishing for it. And illegal goods could be obtained without any dealings that might implicate me. If I had this earlier, all I'd need to do to get a fake identity set up would be simply wanting one.

And, as the final cherry on top, I could potentially get both gears an additional three times. This was already an absurd amount of purchasing power to obtain all of a sudden, four times the value would be practically obscene!

Yeah, I'd put this to good use later.

Right now, though, I was still in the middle of a tense situation. Reaching out behind me confirmed that the invisible barrier was still there, despite the fact that the woman behind their existence was now seemingly unconscious. Still twitching, but I'm pretty sure the neurotoxin would keep that happening regardless of her condition. Was she faking it? Or maybe this effect was on a timer?

Either way, I wanted to make sure she was really out for the count. Of course, that was all assuming I would be capable of reaching her. The baton I dropped earlier was still floating over the landing, after all. I slowly started to descend, carefully testing each step with my foot to see if there was a barrier. Halfway down my suspicions were confirmed. A flat plane of force kept me from going lower.

I was trapped in an invisible box. There must have been some sort of limitation to choosing the size, since otherwise she'd have just kept me in a space too small to even take a step, but it didn't matter because I was still trapped. Until this wore off I wasn't leaving.

Not a problem yet, I'd worry about it if I was still stuck when it was time to go.

Starting to wish I had a brick or something to throw at the girl through my invisible prison. Ah well, lucky her that I had nothing that was both heavy and unimportant right now. I walked back up to the landing, reached my hand up to confirm I could, say, jump or something without hitting my head on an invisible ceiling, and quickly checked my watch.

...It seemed like barely two minutes had passed since we locked eyes. Adrenaline really did make perception speed up, huh? That explained why-

Oh, there they were. The sound of the second floor opening rang out. Guess the other parahuman was finally on the move. Only a few moments later, too quickly for me to put in place any plans, they made it to the landing below me.

The tanned man was wearing a cheap yellow raincoat of all things! I know I wasn't one to talk with my cobbled together getup, but it really did look absurd. Not helping things was that the guy was seemingly around my age. It was just hard to take seriously.

"Shit, Paddock, I was only a minute. You even conscious?" the guy asked the still twitching form on the steps rhetorically, his voice deep in a way that may have inspired a little bit of envy in me. He nudged my baton, floating in the air near chest level for him, as if it wasn't obvious that this "Paddock" had affected it.

I didn't like how relaxed he seemed to be. Probably was just their default state, seeing as they didn't hurry out after hearing about the trouble going on, but it still threw me off. "What's with the raincoat? Afraid you'll get a bit wet?" I asked, trying to say anything to unsettle him and accidentally drawing some inspiration from Inexplicable Innuendo.

I felt uncomfortable, better put a clamp on that.

Meanwhile, the raincoat guy seemed nonplussed. "Maybe fix your own outfit before shitting on mine, how about that?" Well, he had me there. And… he still wasn't moving.

"What's wrong? Am I making you nervous?" I goaded him, still attempting to elicit some sort of reaction. "Took you long enough to get out here, but you're still hesitating? Pretty pathetic."

The guy's gaze landed on Paddock's unconscious form. "Yeah, because not hesitating worked so well for her," he retorted incredulously. In retrospect, it was probably obvious that I was trying to provoke him. "Why don't you come down here, instead?"

Well, because of the power affecting me I literally couldn't do that. But it would be stupid to just tell him that. "No… No, I'm fine where I am," went my unconvincing reply. Oh well, it didn't matter. Either he could come up here, run away, or stay where he was until the others finished up. Only the first possibility really could end badly for me, come to think of it.

Huh, guess I was lucky he didn't rise to my provocations. Stalling was a much better approach. Only now, when there was no imminent threat, could my head clear enough to realize that. A bit of energy flowed into Mechanus without slotting in any gears.

"Ha!" he barked out. "Paddie got you! Shame that I missed you walking right into a wall!" After a moment, the man suddenly winced. "That means she was all the way up there when you pushed her down. Ouch." One of his hands reached into the pocket of his horrible raincoat. Clearly the guy was hiding a weapon or something, and was severely underestimating my ability to notice.

Whatever, he seemed happy to talk so I'd indulge him. If this went on long enough I'd have more than enough backup to bowl him over.

Best way to keep someone talking was to use questions. I wasn't the best conversationalist, but I'd try my best. "Fine, you caught me. Didn't do her much good though, as you can see. Think you could tell me how long I'll be stuck, Raincoat Boy?"

"It's DJ," the man informed me, still keeping up that infuriatingly casual tone. "And I wouldn't know. I'm just a fifth tier member, and not for that long either. Course, I wouldn't tell you even if I did know." His lips curled up into a smirk. "Guess you'll have to find out the hard way. Me, I'll just wait down here. Don't mind me."

His hand was still in that pocket. My best guess was that he was waiting for me to lower my guard, but that really would backfire on the guy. If it was a matter of attrition, I had reinforcements much closer than he did. Just had to keep my eyes on him for now.

"Pretty condescending for someone calling themselves a rookie, aren't you?" I retorted, keeping my eyes locked on him.

"Oh, and I'm sure they left you out here because of how much of a veteran you are!" DJ shot back.

Wait, he realized I was just keeping watch for others? And he was still fine with just standing around? Was he an idiot or was I missing something? Or maybe he was waiting for Paddock to wake up? I took a step towards the edge of the stairs so I could get a better view of her, but it looked like the girl's condition hadn't changed.

And then something pushed my right leg forward and I started falling. My arms shot out in front of me, fast enough that I might have caught myself normally but not fast enough to avoid a rough landing on the invisible floor. The pain wasn't overwhelming, so I probably didn't break any bones, but I was definitely winded. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, I struggled to recompose myself.

Since the plane of force I was on didn't obstruct my sight at all, I was afforded a perfect view of DJ sticking a hand into his coat's other pocket. I was expecting a knife, or maybe even a gun, but instead he pulled out a baseball bat! How?!

Obviously the same way I had been pushed. Some sort of spatial bullshit, no doubt. Not that knowing that really helped me out, though. Understanding the mechanics was all well and good, but it didn't do much in the way of protecting me from the swing from below. It was aimed at my arm, probably to avoid causing life threatening damage, but with how much pain shot through my body I wasn't feeling very grateful over that.

Not that I was feeling much of anything other than agony and anger. I had never been assaulted, not seriously. I had felt pain before, of course, but not in a situation where I knew I'd need to push past it or else contend with even more pain.

I wasn't mentally prepared for this. A quote along the lines of "everyone has a plan until they get hit" floated into my head, but I wasn't able to recall the correct wording or source. Point was, I now understood what it meant firsthand.

Forcing my eyes open rewarded me with the sight of DJ rearing back for another swing. Someone else may have been able to react, perhaps roll to the side or something, but I was too pathetic to do anything but watch as it happened. The bat went back, and started moving in an unstoppable arc towards me.

And then I fell, the solid surface below me instantly vanishing. Technically speaking this was a stroke of luck, in that I was spared another hit, but from another perspective this was terrible since I had now just fallen several feet while basically prone. At least now I knew I wouldn't be trapped by Paddock's power any longer, though with how much my knees were now hurting I wasn't so sure if I'd be able to walk away on my own.

Of course, this momentary "reprieve" was just that: momentary. The bat was already being readied once again. But the few seconds of time I had been given were enough to come up with an idea. It was one of the pinions that hadn't seen any use, but it was just about the only thing I could do without moving, and movement wouldn't be happening before I got hit.

So I changed colors. The Color Out Of Space, the hanger-on that came with Right Tools For The Job, was supposed to be a defense mechanism that functioned by making my skin turn into some sort of revolting color. I had no idea just how effective it was, and I didn't have a lot of skin showing besides, but it was the only option I had left. My eyes were closed, since I didn't want to test out if the color would affect me as well right now.

Was it working? It felt like something was happening under my skin, but I lacked any prior experience to compare it to. I wanted to open my eyes and check my hands or something, but if I started vomiting from disgust then any opportunity I may have gained from this maneuver would be wasted.

Mechanus accumulated a bit more energy. Wait… I wasn't thinking particularly fast. The ticking of the gears in my brain was very consistent, precise enough that I could probably throw away my watch if only my mind had enough processing power, and a few seconds had clearly passed. More than enough time for the bat to come down on me.

Unless DJ wasn't able to swing.

I began to revert my coloration to normal and looked up. My assailant's back was turned, but from his hunched over stance and occasional convulsions I was fairly sure he was dry heaving. Then something splattered on the floor.

Well, it was no longer dry heaving. Apparently it was so intense that he couldn't keep his grip on the bat.

Surprisingly, I felt nothing. In the past even depictions and descriptions of vomit would cause bad nausea, but, aside from the already present pain, I was fine. Maybe it was the adrenaline, my recent adventures in giant bug gland removal desensitizing me, or even something as simple as anger allowing me to ignore the discomfort for now.

All that was in my mind was the desire to strike back against the first person to hurt me like this. My body responded with barely any conscious input, simply crawling a few feet forward until my target was within arm's reach. An autoinjector, drawn randomly from my pockets, was in my hand. Without even checking its contents, I reached out and jabbed his leg.

He reacted, of course. With the bat on the ground, though, DJ resorted to kicking me. It hurt, but not as bad as the earlier swings. There was no stopping me. I had three syringes full of Endangerol with me, which meant that there was a possibility the random syringe I had used would be pointless. And, besides, it would take time for whatever was injected to spread to the head.

Therefore, I grabbed two more and forced them against his leg with a single hand. The slamming of a foot into my arm knocked the grip loose, but about half of each had been injected. Still, if I was unlucky, those two could also be Endangerol. One more injection was the only path to certain safety. DJ was shouting something at me (a question maybe?) but I wasn't really processing the words. Just had to get him again.

Before I could retrieve yet another one, though, I was stopped cold by a horrible crunching sound as my hand was stomped into the ground. And then the pain hit. This time I screamed. That didn't deter him from raising the foot up and bringing it right back down. More crunching, more agony.

I think I might have pissed him off. Or, even worse, I might have accidentally used one of the Yellow Belly syringes and the fear caused a fight response instead of flight.

This is the part where a more stalwart individual would persevere and get that last hit in, but the reality was that I lacked the wherewithal to carry out such a feat. My prone form was subjected to several more hard stomps, mercifully targeted towards my back, before the impacts suddenly ceased. In the corner of my vision, I saw their body lean against the wall and slowly slide down to the ground. I guess the drugs must have finally hit, though which ones were at work wasn't really clear. Technically speaking this was a win on my part, but I really didn't feel like a winner. Hell, I couldn't even move at this point. Any attempts would result in my mangled hand shifting around, and that amount of pain was too much to consciously force myself through.

I'd like to say that things were paced like a movie, with the guys upstairs finishing up and bursting out to help me right as the "scene" concluded, but life wasn't quite so neat. I spent one minute and thirty two seconds, measured accurately through intense focus on the regular ticking of Mechanus, wallowing in my own misery before I finally heard the blessed sound of the door above opening.

"Are you conscious, yingele?" Gabbai's concerned voice called down to me. I offered a pained groan in response. "Baruch Hashem! Help him out, Lev. Malkus isn't hurt that bad, he can get down the steps without leaning on you! Ploni, lift those schmucks' arms up for me. I'm not hurting my back just to learn a shtickle extra about them." Looks like they didn't have an entirely effortless time themselves, though evidently their side of things still went leagues better than mine did.

Though, in retrospect, I did take on two separate people and come out in what could be charitably called a draw. Admittedly, Paddock basically defeated herself by walking over a trap but still… not too bad a start for me, right?

I managed to raise up my head a bit and take a look at them all. Aside from Malkus, who was walking with a limp, they all seemed mostly fine. Sweating from overexertion, struggling to catch their breath, but fine. Gabbai was standing over DJ, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before grimacing. "Lev! Careful with him, his right hand is basically shattered! He should be able to walk with support, though. Just take his left side." he directed his subordinate.

My teeth grit from a spike of pain through my body as the man I assumed to be Lev hoisted me to my feet and wrapped my left arm over his shoulder. I couldn't say it was comfortable, but at least he hadn't messed with my mangled parts. Any shifting around of my broken hand was purely incidental.

I let myself be led outside and into the van without any resistance or words. I was far past the point of caring about details, just so long as this night could finally end.

SUPERHUMAN DESIRE (Medaka Box Abnormal) (100CP)

Oh, this gear came at a good time. It removed the risk of failure and unintended side effects from any beneficial procedures I performed on myself. While I couldn't be sure without trying it, hopefully it would remove the possibility of the bones healing wrong when I used some chems to fix myself up. Having just had them broken, I really wasn't keen on having to rebreak them anytime soon.

And, thanks to Discreet Purchaser, I should be able to acquire the last compounds I needed to finish that Hydra. Shame none of the gifts Mechanus bestowed upon me during the debacle helped me to avoid injury in the first place, but they sure as hell were helping to patch me up after the fact.

Come to think of it, even the two texts I had received might be relevant. Or, at least, one of them would be. A collection of advanced biology research notes should have something about fixing a guy up, right?

Well, I'd take it.

"-you listening?" a voice to my right asked, coming into focus. Seemed I had gotten lost in thought.

"Uh, I didn't catch that, sorry."

"I was saying," Gabbai repeated, "that you should stay the night with Malkus. No way we're letting you just go off on your own when you haven't even received any treatment. He lives closer than anyone else here, so it's the most convenient option."

A reasonable concern, and one that was appreciated, but not strictly necessary. "I can whip something up to repair my bones in no time," I explained. "So, while I appreciate the offer, there's really no need."

This time Ploni interjected. "You'll make something? With what materials? What workshop? Tinkers aren't magic, they can't just pull new tricks out of thin air."

Right, they didn't know that my workspace was always a locked door away. And that wasn't something I was keen on sharing with anyone. "I can work with very little, actually. And I have most of what I need on my person already. But you do have a point. So, er, I guess just one night will be fine. Is that alright?"

Nods of assent signalled the end of this discussion. That was that.

And so ended my first night as a cape.

Perks this Chapter

Research Notes (Van Helsing) (200CP)

A tome of notes compiled by numerous doctors in biology, including one Doctor Frankenstein. These notes detail much about biological make-up of different creatures. But... wait, what's this? A hidden flap in the last half of the tome reveals a smaller book - filled to the brim with dark, scientific knowledge.

With this knowledge, you are capable of creating life - creating monsters like Adam, creatures sewn from flesh and defying the laws of reality by their mere existence.

Dark Journal (Van Helsing) (200CP)

An inconspicuous, black leather journal. Not that big, so you wouldn't expect much. It's contents prove surprising however - for what you hold is no ordinary journal, but possibly the largest composition of necromantic rituals in existence. Each page details the rituals required to create - and control - a great variety of undead monsters. Ranging from ghouls, ghosts, and skeletons to vampires & even more monstrous beings, you'll have no lack of possible minions. Note: The rituals for higher-powered undead will take more material - and more time - to enact.

Shadow Economy (100CP) X1

You have great, even excessive wealth available. This isn't exactly the same as having wealth - rather, money issues are taken care of. If you look to buy a small town, you'll have enough wealth around to get it started, and after that initial payment expense will never show up again, being taken care of before it ever reaches you. The first level takes care of expenses as if a level twenty expert was diverting his income to paying for you. Each additional purchase, to a maximum of four purchases, adds another one. This means that in good times, this can cover more, and in bad times, less.

Discreet Purchaser (100CP) X1

There are many things you might want and need that are... annoying to get. Maybe for legal reasons, maybe because no one buys that much gold, or the world you're on doesn't have magic scrolls. Each purchase of this means that you get half as much value as you get from the Shadow Economy diverted to you... in goods. They don't have to be goods available in your current world, or things you can legally get. They discreetly show up when you need them, even if getting them should take a long time, or involve some kind of commission. These goods can be improvements to your properties, installations, constructions, or upgrades, but no other kind of service.

SUPERHUMAN DESIRE (Medaka Box Abnormal) (100CP)

You always wanted to be special and that want was itself so strong that you really did become so. Whenever you are subjected to a procedure that will improve or beneficially alter you with a chance of injury to you, death or even just the procedure failing outright, it will instead have a guaranteed chance of success. Risky operations will always go off without a hitch, shoving an energy source into your own body will have it combine with you successfully if there was even the smallest chance of you not dying.

Banked CP: 200