Ink-stained Pages
patreon
Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2024-01-19 14:40:45 +0000 UTCThe next couple of days seemed to pass by in a comfortable blur of reconnaissance and ass-kickery.
I kept up my nightly patrols, busting Merchant crack houses and then calling up the BBPD to clean the drugs out after I raided the buildings for cash. I stopped bothering with genial conversation after the third time the dispatcher tried to pass me over to the Parahuman Response hotline, instead rattling off the address and situation before hanging up and leaving. Apparently I lucked out with the female officer on my first night as Avalon, because the other officers were pretty much pussies. Not that I could blame ‘em - I’d probably be afraid of me too.
I still wasn’t too familiarized with the online cape scene despite Cassie overhauling my new smartphone, but word was getting out about the new vigilante making the Docks his stomping grounds. At the very least, druggies were screaming about ‘Avalon showin’ up’ whenever I busted their doors in. Security in their little hideyholes was getting tougher too - more guns, less sloppiness. Common sense hinted that I’d be throwing down with their big boys soon.
Honestly, a big part of why my self-imposed D.A.R.E campaign against the Merchants was going this smooth was all thanks to the incredible talent of my partner-in-crime, Cassie - super cool hacker codename pending. It was crazy what information a software Tinker could find out with the looted phones of dozens of gang members, and she was able to get me times and addresses on the bigger drug deals and cooking spots.
In reality, I really wanted to start bringing the hurt Downtown - shove a fireball up some nazi ass, but doing it this early would be jumping the gun and just getting plain arrogant. Patience was a virtue, and I was still…’sharpening my claws’, so to speak. The Merchants were cockroaches, and I was honestly a bit confused on why they hadn’t been hunted down to the last man already. The gang was small, fairly weak when it came to firepower, and it wasn’t like taking them out would introduce a vacuum that could spark a city-wide gang war. Sure, they didn’t have a Kill Order or anything so it wasn’t like I could just slaughter them all, but finding Skidmark and his ‘lieutenants’ and delivering them straight to the slammer couldn’t have been too hard.
When I asked Cass about this, her response was fairly deadpan. “Most independent heroes are not ballsy enough to launch a one-man aggravated attack against an entire gang a day after becoming a cape, Jay. You’re crazy.”
Which was fair…but also pretty disappointing. What else would they be doing with their lives? Actually going out with friends and being pleasant and normal human beings? Psh.
I didn’t like doing things half-assed, and since my gut was telling me that my usual Merchant hunting hobby would be getting a bit more complicated soon, I decided that it was probably about time I got an actual costume. Ideas had been floating in my head for a while now, mainly because I had a veritable treasure trove of professionally-designed outfits in my memory bank from the different games and anime I inhaled in my past life. The only issue was properly getting it put together on paper, and finding someone who could make it all happen without completely breaking my bank. I was sitting on about ten thousand dollars in total because stealing from criminal drug dealers really did pay off, and the money was starting to burn a hole in my pocket.
Fortunately, I knew just the woman who could help. Whether or not she actually would was up in the air, but I found that getting straight to the point and staying unflappable helped a lot when it came to dealing with capes. Tattletale and Cassie in particular, maybe, but they still counted!
I was going to seek out Parian, drop a few grand in her lap, and hope for the best. And then, I would shake the hornet’s nest a little with the Merchants and see if I could bait Skidmark and friends out of hiding.
After all, If I wanted Brockton Bay to take me seriously as an independent hero, it was imperative to make my own entry into the cape scene. Doing so by imprisoning the meth head drug fiend who attributed to teen dope addiction had to be good for PR, and I’d blow up anyone who said it wouldn’t.
Saturday afternoon saw me making my way down the clean, smooth wooden pathway that made up the majority of the Boardwalk. Despite the relative earlyness of the day and the dreary, dark gray clouds that seemed to threaten the city with the possibility of rain, the area was extremely active with citizens streaming to and fro, enjoying both the safety of the Boardwalk and the assortment of stores, booths, and street entertainers. The view of the ocean wasn’t horrible, either, and the Boardwalk had multiple staircases that led down to the relatively clean sands of the beach.
Over-all, I had to admit; the area was pretty fucking nice. I could see why it was considered one of the biggest tourist destinations in Brockton Bay, alongside the PRT ENE Headquarters. I probably could have lingered around and taken in the sights a bit more, really do the whole ‘tourist’ thing, but the looks and stares from the people around me were a bit…distracting. Sure, I came dressed in my usual Cape outfit - a plastic white half-mask, cargo pants, boots, and a black leather jacket. For all intents and purposes, I looked like an unknown newbie cape and normal people were not very comfortable around those.
“You sure she’s supposed to be here?” I muttered quietly, shoving my hands in my pockets and resuming my walk.
There was a low beep in my wireless earbuds - probably her unmuting herself - before Cassie’s low, gruff voice snaked through my skull. “The target will be there, Snake. Remember; this is a quiet mission. In and out. Non Lethal takedowns onl-”
I groaned, a dry, crooked grin forming on my face. “Chill with the roleplay for a sec you fuckin’ nerd. I’m the furthest thing from Solid Snake.” In spite of my words, amusement fought with the deadpan snark in my voice. Over the past few days, Cassie had slowly started to show more and more of her real personality, and it was almost infuriating how much I was beginning to adore what I saw. I apparently had a thing for nerdy geeks with attachment issues…go figure.
She huffed audibly over the mic, and I could practically imagine her leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Spoilsport! According to their post on PHO, Forema Boutique is hosting Parian’s show. It’s apparently a pretty big event - they’re gonna show off the store’s upcoming Spring dress lineup.” Her voice became duller and less-enthused. “Yaaay, fashionnn.”
I snorted. “Forema Boutique, got it. There’s not too many stores on the Boardwalk.” I looked around as I walked, and sure enough, while there were multiple booths where people were selling candies or baked treats or lemonade, the stores seemed to be placed further along the middle-end of the strip - a row of expensive looking buildings that almost definitely sold goods at an inflated and stupid price.
“And you don’t seem too excited about the ‘Spring dress lineup’. I’m guessing I should perish the thought of gettin’ you some Louis Vuitton as a late Christmas present, huh?” I looked up, catching the eye of a burly enforcer who was eyeing me suspiciously and muttering into a walkie-talkie.
I winked, and he turned away.
“No! I-I mean, yes? Maybe? You’re getting me a present?” The wide smile in her voice was unmistakable, even through the earbuds.
Well, it had been a joke, but seeing how excited she got at the prospect was more than enough to change my mind on the spot. “Maybe,” I murmured lightly, brushing past a gaping blonde kid with a bowl haircut. He turned to watch me as I moved past him, but my eyes were only for the group of stores that I was quickly getting closer to.
“Huh?! What do you mean maybe?”
“Maybe I’ll get you something nice…it just depends on how bad you want it, Cass.”
“J-Jay!”
And there it was - that ever present sexual tension, a pressure that I could feel even through the digital connection. Things hadn’t cooled off after the whole ‘good girl’ incident earlier in the week. Oh no - rather, if anything, it got even worse. Say what you wanted about teenagers, but we were nothing if not lustful. Emotionally charged, hormonal, spontaneous - that heat in the pit of my stomach hadn’t dimmed in the slightest since that night, and to make matters worse and better, Cassie had apparently come to the conclusion that she wanted me to break first. Her moves were rarely overt or blunt, but for my quickly dying willpower, she was more than effective.
‘Unconsciously’ wiggling her ass against me as we slept or cuddled - because we platonically cuddled now, apparently.
Suddenly becoming a klutz and dropping things, only to bend over in my direction when she went to pick it up.
Even staring up into my eyes whenever we both went to brush our teeth in the morning, sticking her tongue out to get a more thorough brushing.
I was basically fighting a losing war against my original ironclad conviction to not let myself become too attached and affectionate with the lovable nerd. It was only a matter of time before I was self-diagnosed as a dirty hypocrite and made a Cassie-shaped indent in that lump ass mattress of ours. There was nothing ‘normal’ about our arrangement, anyone could see that - and I was an idiot for trying to pretend otherwise. The only thing holding me back, other than the lingering fear of not being able to bring her with me, was my competitive spirit.
If anyone was gonna break first, it damn well had to be her. I still had my pride as a composed and mature former-adult!
“...” I could hear her breathing still, heavy and damp. The wet, moist sound of her licking her dry lips interrupted the silence. “...I want it, Jay. R-really, really bad…please?” The words quiet, almost too quiet for me to hear in the loud humdrum of the Boardwalk. There was nothing but naked honesty in her voice; no forced low pitch or prickly bravado…just a breathy, needy whisper that almost had me choking on saliva.
There was a second of silence as I tried to reboot my brain. At this point I was basically in front of Forema Boutique, and I doubted walking inside of the store with a massive erection was the best first impression.
“Cass?”
Silence.
“Yo, Cass - can you hear me?” Still, no voice answered.
I let out a long drawn-out sigh. I wasn’t worried about the sudden silence as far as her being in danger went - the bunker was secure, and I would’ve heard something before her mic went silent if someone had broken in. No, she was just embarrassed by being so upfront with her desire towards me. I felt a bit bad, but at the same time I felt proud…in a weird, protective way. She talked a big game with me, but I knew, just based off of context clues, that Cass was someone with pretty horrible anxiety. Her not leaving the bunker at all over the past few days was evidence enough - and I tried multiple times to get her out into the sunlight.
Speaking to me at that bus stop Downtown had probably used up all of her social bravado for the week.
‘Well, not much I can do about it now.’ I shrugged, pushing it to the back of my head and heading inside the Boutique. From the outside I’d already seen the decent-sized crowd of people, mostly women, seated in the middle of the store, so I could only guess that I was coming in towards the tail-end of the show.
“Good afternoon and welcome to- Oh!” A gorgeous, brown-haired woman in an expensive-looking black dress stared at me, her unnaturally full lips pursing into a nervous, thin line. “W-welcome to Forema Boutique. May I help you, sir?”
I tilted my head, glancing past the clerk and taking in the ‘show’. On a long, boosted marble platform that looked like a runway, a voluptuous white mannequin strutted forward with her - their - its hands on its hips. It was wearing another expensive dress, but I wasn’t really into women’s fashion. I was more interested in the short, unsettling figure sitting on a stool at the far back of the runway, her gloved hands placed primly on her lap. She was wearing a creepy porcelain mask, a frilly white frock, and had a small, patchwork teddy bear perched on her shoulder. A long, curly blonde wig completed the whole ‘living doll’ routine.
“Um, sir-”
“The entry fee is twenty bucks, right?” I cut the lady off, pulling the bill out of my pocket and handing it over to her. She took it slowly, still watching me with a weary look in her eye.
“You’re here for the fashion show.” Her voice was dull and disbelieving.
“I’m a big fan of fashion,” I smirked, tapping the sleeve of my leather jacket. “This is authentic Gucci - some high class shit. I’m just tryna broaden my horizons with…” I glanced past her again and raised an eyebrow, “Silk negligee.”
“...Right. Well, you’ve paid the fee and my manager didn’t give me any instructions on what to do if a cape walks in, so you’re free to…enter?” The woman looked so confused and off-centered that I almost felt bad. Almost. It was more amusing than it was sad, though, so I just smiled politely and walked past her.
The sound of cameras flashing and rich people murmuring to each other was the only real noise in the store. Seeing as everyone’s attention was on the telekinetically-controlled mannequin strutting its stuff on the runway, I was able to slip into the shadows towards the side of the seated crowd and lean against the wall as I waited for the show to finish up. Parian seemed almost…bored, but I couldn’t tell much from the creepy ass mask that she wore. I’d almost certainly annoy her if I interrupted during the show, so I turned my attention inwards for the time being.
The Grimoire was waking up, after all. I hadn’t gotten much of anything for a while now, possibly because of my dog headed focus on practicing what I already had, so it was a bit exciting to feel my soul shifting once again. I’d almost forgotten how otherworldly the sensation was.
This one was a hefty one, too - I could feel it.
Sanctum (World of Darkness - 400 CP): Not as useful to Sorcerers as true mages, but in this apartment sized space, your magical abilities, from this world or others, will never go awry, instead merely failing to produce any effect at all when misused. This Sanctum can take any form, from an alchemist laboratory, to a dojo, to a temple, to a small house. It goes wherever you desire it to go, so there are no ‘moving’ concerns. Merely will it to be done, and done it will be. The Sanctum comes furnished with the common commodities associated with whatever form you choose.
‘Fuck.’ My eyes widened beneath my mask, and I instinctively looked up as if to make sure that no one could see what was just revealed to me in my soul. Obviously they couldn’t - snorting, I closed my eyes and thought about the Grimoire’s offering.
The charge it required was immense. Already, I could feel that half of what I’ve built up would be flushed away in an instant if I accepted the Sanctum, but wasn’t it worth all of that and more? A mobile, magical, apartment-sized space where all of my magical abilities couldn’t harm me, and I could redecorate it all with my mind? I had no idea how the logistics or physics of it all worked, but magic shat on physics nine times outta ten anyway. I could make our little bunker an actual home underground and not some drafty Endbringer shelter.
And, once again, it was practically made for a training mage. I had nothing to fear from pushing the boundaries when it came to the Winds of Magic. I needed this.
Yoink.
The abrupt sound of quiet, polite clapping brought me out of the Grimoire. I opened my eyes and watched from the sidelines as Parian gingerly stood from her stool and walked a few feet to stand between six different mannequins, all wearing vastly different dresses. As one, they all performed a textbook-perfect curtsy, and the applause grew moderately louder in volume.
“Thank you, and I hope that you all enjoy Forema Boutique’s upcoming spring sale! Remember to use code ‘PARIAN’ for a five percent discount this weekend only.” The small woman had a noticeable accent that I couldn’t quite place. I knew that Parian was Middle-Eastern, I had never bothered to research the specifics. Regardless, her voice was quite soothing.
I was waiting by the small staircase at the back of the runway when she finally broke away from the limelight. The mannequins had already become stiff and unmoving behind her, and the remnants of the audience that hadn’t already left were pondering over the dresses like they were analyzing a da Vinci piece.
She froze mid-step and watched me, warily. Now that we were face to face, I could see that she had large, dark eyes behind the holes in her mask. “I did not know that I was popular enough to be handing out autographs.” Her voice was no less pleasant than before when she spoke, though there was a warning behind her cool tone.
A shiver went through my body as Force of Spirit activated. Immediately, I was more perceptive to the tiny details that hinted at the Rogue’s feelings. Her shoulders were slightly bunched up - tense, and her eyes just flickered to my right, towards the entrance and exit of the boutique. She was feeling cornered, coming right off of a performance and being confronted at the exit of the walkway. Social clumsiness on my part.
I took a step back and opened up my stance, allowing her to walk past me and towards the exit if she wanted to flee. She didn’t take the opportunity though, and the almost imperceptible relaxing of her shoulders made me relax.
“The whole ‘strutting mannequin’ thing was pretty badass. I came to talk business, but I wouldn’t say no to an autograph as well,” I smirked, keeping my voice light and relaxed. I knew that the sound of my voice was intimidating to some people, and Parian, from what I remembered reading, was someone who didn’t see herself as strong. She was clearly out of her comfort zone with me approaching her in ‘costume’ right now, and I had to take it slow. Easy.
“I’ll…keep that in mind,” she said awkwardly, “The autograph thing, that is. What business do you have with me?”
I glanced back at the somewhat loud comments being made by the crowd of buzzing fashion critics and frowned. “Maybe we can take this outside? It’s feeling a lil’ bit…snooty in here.”
Parian shifted, and I looked back to lock eyes with her. That damned doll mask hid her expression completely, and other than the minute body language that my power picked up occasionally I was practically working blind. “How did you find out about me?” she asked, ignoring my question. It was a fair ask, though.
“PHO,” I replied, pulling my phone out of my pocket and quickly flipping to the browser. I didn’t have an account yet, but the page was already on Parian’s profile. Her username was simply ‘Parian’, and she even had the Verified Cape and Verified Rogue badges. I showed her the screen. “I was looking for someone who could help me with my lil’ fashion problem, and I saw your post about the show this afternoon. Figured I’d stop by, meet you in person.”
Parian took a couple steps closer to lean in and scan the screen for a moment before nodding. “Okay, that makes sense.” She hesitated, before continuing, “Thank you for thinking of me for your…’fashion problem’. I’m still new to the fashion world, and it’s been a bit of a rough start.”
I waved my hand and pocketed my phone again. “I feel you.” A puckish grin formed on my lips, and I leaned in a little bit. “Between me and you, this is like the tenth leather jacket I’ve had to buy. Fighting crime’s not as easy as I thought it would be.” That was a bit of a lie - I’d only gotten shot once in the leg a day ago, and Healing of Hysh was enough to take care of the bullet hole once I dug the round out.
Still, it seemed to ease up the tension a bit as Parian let out a slight giggle, covering the mouth of her mask with her hand. “I can imagine,” she said wistfully, looking me up and down. “I’m not sure if I’m the best girl for the job, but I’ll hear you out at least. Let me grab my things from the back first, um…”
“Avalon.”
“Avalon. Hm…nice name.”
A few minutes later saw Parian and I leaning against the railing overlooking the Bay. A large, almost cartoonish spool of thread rested on the ground at the Rogue’s feet, and she had a small notebook and lead pencil in her hand. Annoyingly enough we were both getting stares - which increased in volume due to Parian’s well-kept, eye-catching appearance - but I had no issue ignoring the peanut gallery. They didn’t seem to bother my companion, either.
“So,” Parian started, peering up at me with a tilted head, “I assume you want a hero outfit designed and made. I don’t know how good I’d be at more masculine aesthetics, and I can’t work with heavier material, so if you’re wanting a suit of armor or something…”
I shook my head. “Nah, the whole ‘Avalon’ thing is because of my powers - not because I see myself as a knight or anything like that. Lighter materials work fine.”
The doll-like cape nodded her head and scribbled something into the notepad. “And what, exactly, are your powers?” she asked, looking at me again. There was unhidden curiosity in her voice, and I took it as a sign that she was getting a bit more comfortable. “If that isn’t too personal a question. It would just help me decide which materials are best for different parts of the costume.” Or maybe not…
I let out a chuckle of amusement. “Don’t worry, I’m not that bitchy. I’m a Trump with a few different minor abilities, but my main one is creating energy constructs.” With a slight gesture of my finger, which was definitely necessary and not just to look cool, I conjured one of my trusty golden spears overhead. Seeing as my Armament was one with my soul, I no longer had to have the weapon in hand in order for my Weapon Magic to constitute me as ‘wielding’ a spear.
Almost as soon as it appeared, the golden spear shot into the sky and promptly faded into motes of glimmering light.
“That is…very cool,” Parian breathed, her eyes twinkling a little behind her mask as she craned her neck upwards. Returning her attention to me, the petite woman cleared her throat when she noticed me watching her with a smile. “Ahem, sorry. Dazzling golden energy, mythical connotations to the name, aesthetically pleasing jawline…” The last part was muttered very quietly, so I figured she did not want me to hear. I resisted my natural urge to tease.
“Hm…yeah, I think I would like to take on this commission, Avalon. I can imagine a half mask, rather than a full one, since you have a nice smile. A mottled gold trimming along a more royal color, like purple or black, would do well I think. Did you have a specific theme in mind?” She was actively writing again as she spoke to me, and before my very eyes another pencil slid from the folds of her dress and began writing alongside the one in her hand. I was rather impressed at the multitasking.
I nodded my head, realized that she was still looking down, and spoke instead. “Yeah. You play any video games?”
Parian paused mid-scribble and glanced up at me with an odd look in her eye. “Er, I play Sudoku…?” she said hesitantly.
I blinked. “That’s not a video game, but I can appreciate an intelligent woman. There was this RPG - eh, role-playing game - I used to play a few years back, and one of the heroes in it was sort of an inspiration to me. His name was Gortash, and he was this super badass wizard-” Realizing that I was starting to ramble a bit, I paused to make sure she was still paying attention.
She was, quite intently judging by how she’d completely stopped writing, and at my pause she let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m listening, Avalon. Go on.” Her voice was amused and interested all at once, and I felt a small wave of embarrassment hit me.
So much for the cool and composed airs.
Still, it wasn’t often that I allowed myself to freely nerd out about my former video game interests, so I pushed away the immature embarrassment that stemmed from a childhood of teasing and really let my ideas run rampant for Parian to annotate. She was an attentive and vigilant listener, asking me questions about both the video game - which was a bastardized version of Baldur’s Gate 3 - and the outfit that I was trying to describe, and by the end of it all we were basically just having a conversation about video games in general. She had sketched out a rough draft of Gortash’s Cloth of Authority in her little notebook, and the accuracy was almost uncanny.
It was obvious that she took her work seriously, even though I knew that her inspiration in almost everything right now was dwindling.
“-and that’s why I think RPGs are the best genre of video games. When you immerse yourself into your monitor or computer screen, you wanna be sent into a new world, y’know? You don’t wanna just be Parian anymore - you wanna be Grognak the Barbarian, or Lara fuckin’ Croft with the bow and arrow. That’s what RPGs are. They’re made to reinvent you, at least for the few hours you play.”
Parian quietly sipped the straw of the lemonade I’d bought her in between our discussion, having completely ignored her refusals to let me pay the overly-inflated prices the Boardwalk was well known for. She only lifted her mask ever so slightly to fit the straw through the gap, but I didn’t blame her - not everyone wanted their lower faces seen by the public. I just didn’t give a fuck enough.
When she finished swallowing, the Rogue lightly shook her head, sending blonde tresses flying. “I don’t know if I can afford to buy a ‘gaming PC’ with all of the work I have coming up, but you make these RPGs feel worth it. Real. I’ve never even heard anything like some of these plotlines you mention.”
I snorted, tossing my empty cup into the trash bin a few feet away. “You don’t even know the half of it. You ever heard of Pokem-”
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
A sudden loud beeping noise rang out from Parian’s frock. The woman jumped, scared, before realizing where it was coming from and quickly pulling a smartphone out of one of the many pockets in her dress. As she annoyedly pressed a few buttons, I watched as her eyes widened in shock behind her mask. A low, frustrated whine escaped her chest. “Oh no…I’m sorry Avalon, I have to go. I forgot I had friggin’ classes at 2 PM, ugh.”
A moment later she gasped. “Um, sorry, that’s probably not professional. I have…official duties. Important ones. But I enjoyed our conversation and hate to leave it so suddenly.” The petite woman even bowed her head in apology.
I raised my eyebrows, bemused. “It’s cool, yo - education is important for some people. We can continue it another time, yeah?” Taking my own phone out of my pocket, I made a clear and obvious move to touch the little ‘Contact’ icon in the bottom right and flick it in Parian’s direction.
She straightened at the small, quirky little ‘ping’ that rang from her own device and stared down at the number that appeared. “Oh, right - thank you.” she said clumsily.
“For giving you my number?” I asked with a grin.
“Y-yeah? And for wanting to talk to me again. I really did enjoy it.” Parian was stumbling over her words a bit, obviously flustered, but I let it slide since she was obviously in a rush and probably a bit overstimulated. I chuckled and shooed the woman away.
“Hurry back then. Sorry for keeping you so long.”
“It’s okay. I’ll text you updates on your costume!”
I just knew she was smiling beneath the mask. Waving goodbye before picking up the spool of thread beside her, Parian briskly jogged away towards the exit of the Boardwalk. I watched her go for a few moments, just to make sure she was good, before sighing and turning back to the bay. ‘Another task marked off the list, and another friend made. She was cool. I wonder if she knows about the whole ‘skin-manipulation’ thing…’ It had always been unclear if Parian was aware of the secret, more powerful side of her ability.
Shrugging, I inhaled the salty scent of the ocean and peered inwards to check on the Grimoire. It was lurking around a certain mote of light, and a brief scan showed that it was another ability based around Insanity and the Skaven - two things that I had absolutely no intentions of bothering with. I just wasn’t that type of mage.
Letting it release back into the ocean of magic, I simply went back to watching the calm waves rush across the water. I would’ve been completely content to just relax for another hour or so, enjoying the peace, but a quiet ‘ping’ from my phone grabbed my attention.
“Huh, didn’t really take Parian as the clingy typ- Holy fuck.”
I almost dropped my new smartphone in the bay. Blood rushed through my veins, heading all the way downtown until it pooled inside of my quickly rising dick. I cursed the fact that I did not know how to take screenshots on this weird, unfamiliar device - but I had a perfect memory, so it wasn’t like it even mattered.
Text Message Received
Cassie (Sexiest Hacker Girl)
2:04 PM
I’m still needy…when do I get my present? ;-;
Attached Image
…Maybe it was time to head back to the bunker.
I didn't wanna get into the habit of reneging on my promises, after all. Right?
__________________________________
Perks Received:
Sanctum (World of Darkness: Sorcery - 400 CP): Not as useful to Sorcerers as true mages, but in this apartment sized space, your magical abilities, from this world or others, will never go awry, instead merely failing to produce any effect at all when misused. This Sanctum can take any form, from an alchemist laboratory, to a dojo, to a temple, to a small house. It goes wherever you desire it to go, so there are no ‘moving’ concerns. Merely will it to be done, and done it will be. The Sanctum comes furnished with the common commodities associated with whatever form you choose.
650 CP Remaining.
