Earth Bet: House of the Sun (Cultist Simulator/Worm)

Winning Vote:
[X] We recruited John Wick. Apparently.
-[X] Michael Donovan
-[X] Male
-[X] Polish
-[X] A well dressed man with raven black hair. Sharp hazel eyes and a face that is thin like a knife.
-[X] Well Built: You are robust and tower half a head over most people. (+2 Martial, +5 on tests that require physical strength, and personal combat)
-[X] Healthy: Your heart beats louder and your skin is more resilient. (+1 Health)
-[X] Soldiers: Nobody fancy, just grunts who fought in wars across the globe. Yet they have imparted those lessons on you, through rigorous physical exercise. (+2 Martial, +5 personal combat, -1 Stewardship)
-[X] You were promoted: Lieutenant, not soldier. Manager, not clerk. There is a hierarchy in this world, and you climbed a step through hard work, not birthright (Start with a better paying job, albeit more demanding. You will have better access to what your cult is after)
-[X] You left society: More mundane and stable society, you fled from that for some time. It has scarred you, both in your mentality and in what you hold close. (+1 Martial. Start with weapons and combat gear)
-[X] Compromised: Something happened, you overstepped or just pure bad luck. Your cult bailed you out. (You have a personal debt to the master of your cult, +2 coins)
-[X] Enemies: There is somebody out there, this somebody has a bone to pick with you. (You start with an enemy, +1 coin)
-[X] You cannot be denied, not without effort (+4 Martial +5 to Personal Combat, other effects will be revealed with time)

Michael Donovan, a Polish immigrant. That is who you were. There were other things, like the debt you owed to your Master and your enemy, who possibly has been chasing you from Poland. That doesn't matter, though. The man in the mirror is you, and you have business to attend to, but first, you need to get cleaned up.

You showered and scrubbed yourself clean before combing your hair. You then got dressed in a nice suit. Your job ensures you have the funds to do so, so you make sure the suit is tailored to your size. You then return to the mirror, checking yourself over.

No problems, which means it's time to head out.

The streets are empty this early morning, and the sun has yet to rise. However, there's a calm, peacefulness to this time, where nothing happens, and a cold chill permeates the air. It reminds you faintly of home, before the riots and before the chaos.

Your thoughts are put aside as you arrive. It's a small bar, like the one you got drunk in last year and were recruited in. However, this one has back rooms and a place for the young woman who leads you. You shiver as your thoughts trail across her. Even in your memories, she's harsh and all jagged edges.

You looked around, making sure that nobody was looking. No one is, not this early in the morning. So you step inside, pushing past the closed sign. Inside, the bar is empty, like any bar would be when closed. The man who's behind the counter is very much not like a closed bar, but your lips quirked up the smallest bit at seeing him.

"Morning," he said as he nodded, his voice quiet. You knew that getting much more than that out of him would be hard. You knew he was Russian only because of his accent and the few drinks you had shared. However, he had managed to recruit you with only a few words, so he knew when to make them count.

"Where are the others?" you asked. He jerked his head upstairs as his hands moved to mix something, perhaps a drink. You nodded back, and no more words had to be shared as you made your way upstairs.

The temperature seemed to drop, and you felt like some part of you was chafing raw, but you ignored it. Your Master had that effect on you, but you were the shough sort, half a head taller than most and more hearty to boot. You weren't going to be afraid of a little chill, even if a part of you wanted to flee. You ignored that part and instead kept climbing the stairs, soon arriving at the place where people slept.

This bar wasn't officially a bed and breakfast; in fact, most of the accommodations were very bare. However, it would suffice for people who had to travel and couldn't find a place to stay, such as Arch.

"Good morning; how are you doing?"

Speaking of the devil, standing across from you in his tweed suit and with a smarmy smile on his face was Arch. You knew he didn't mean ill, but he poked and prodded far past anybody should, and he didn't seem to know restraint.

"Fine," you replied, a single-word answer that would tell most others not to continue, but Arch didn't catch that or just didn't care.

"Wonderful. If I may ask, where did you get that suit? I've been looking for a tailor, and I just can't find one…"

He blathered on and on, but you ignored him as you stepped into the meeting space. This was the one room you knew was completely bare. The only thing here were the boards that made up the room, and even as your feet stepped on the ground, you were always surprised there wasn't slick frost.

"Sup," the figure by the window said, giving you a faint salute with her hand. You nodded back. That was Jane Doe, not her real name, of course, but that was the one she had given. You didn't know what she was running from, but she was competent and had solved quite a few problems for the cult before they had even begun. You weren't going to prod, something Arch didn't seem to guess, given he strolled over with a smile and started talking to her.

It was amusing. Arch was harmless if annoying, so seeing Jane run circles around him verbally was good fun. You settled on the ground; chairs weren't a thing during the meeting. Anatoly had informed you that the first time you had met the Master, it was, in fact, because of her that this room was bare.

"Good morning, Mr. Donovan," a soft, accented voice said from behind you. You started, turning around before relaxing slightly as it was only Ai. She was also an immigrant; in fact, most of the people in this inner circle were. You weren't sure where she was from. She blended in well and had already adapted quite well to American culture. If it wasn't due to that faint twinge in her voice you debuted, you would be able to tell that.

She settled on the ground next to you, her dress gathered around her silently like how she moved. There was one thing you were sure about, she had some sort of training. You weren't sure what kind of training, but the way she moved reminded you of your family's horror stories about people who would sneak into your camp in the middle of the night to ensure a few folks didn't wake up.

However, Ai was an inner member of the cult, trusted where only four others were, so you let that matter settle. You sat and waited, hearing Arch and Jane go back and forth before the faint footsteps of the last member started up the stairs.

"Well, I suppose that'll be all," Jane remarked as she slid off the window sill and settled onto the ground. Arch did the same, albeit with a bit more groaning as he forced his body away from the natural posture of bent over a desk. Your lips quirked up at that, although your very small smile faded as Anatoly stepped into the room.

"The Master will arrive shortly," he stated as she sat down, his voice soft and curt as always.

You wait, breathing in and out as silence claims the room. You didn't speak as the air grew cold, as it seemed frost should cover the window but didn't, as a faint part of you, that part of you that spoke of survival, wanted to flee. Each of you had buried that part of you, content in the knowledge you wouldn't be the one harmed while in this room.

"I see you've arrived," a girl's voice said as she stepped out from the secret door. You made sure to keep breathing, not speaking, but you could feel your heart beating slightly faster as the Master approached.

She was a young girl with flowers tied in her hair. She wore a simple white dress, almost a funerary gown if one was sewn for a girl no older than nine. However, it only took one look into her eyes to see that she was no girl. A cold flame burned in them, a fire that wanted to unmake but was held back, and you didn't know by what. What you did know was that this waif of a girl could kill everybody in this room, but she didn't.

"There is much we could not do, but doors have been unmade, and so there is an opportunity," she stated, her voice clawing at your ears as she spoke. However, you did know. You remember what had been floated by the last time you had met and what the cult had learned.

What is the cult's primary goal?

[] To Shatter the Pot: A group has formed, lurking about behind the world, and they move people like chess pieces. Cauldron they are called and they must be ended, unmade and torn apart before they freeze the world in their cold grip.

Main Objective: Destroy Cauldron. This conspiracy is an unacceptable stasis.

Secondary Objective: Shatter Cauldron. If they cannot be ended, they will be broken, never to pick up their broken pieces.

[] Endings in Threes: Three beasts have emerged, and who knows how many more will continue to steam out. They have burnt down cities and driven a new one mad. This kind of unmaking is unacceptable. They must be unmade in turn.

Main Objective: Destroy the Endbringers. Destruction is not theirs to claim.

Secondary Objective: Learn what created the Endbringers. Their creation must be known, so it can be stopped.

[] Remember What Was: Something has changed, although you're not sure what. The world has twisted on an axis and you must remember what happened before and just what caused it.

Main Objective: Discover and record just what caused the Injunction. The old ways must be remembered.

Secondary Objective: Ensure that somebody will know the barest fragments of the truth. If they will not be remembered they can be grieved.


She then leaves, departing back to her room behind the secret door. You then breathe out, your heart slowing back down now that she is not there. You slowly rise, moving towards the exit, only for Jane Doe to stop you.

"One quick thing. Mind if we walk and talk?" she asks, yet she is already walking. You follow behind, waiting to see what she has to say.

"I did manage to get your things in order," she tells you. Although that really should be Anatoly's job," she grumbles good-naturedly. You nod. You had requested some help from the older man in setting up for your role in the cult.

What is your role in the cult?

[] Martial: Keeping of the arms and armor, ensuring that when violence is called for it will be answered.

[] Diplomacy: Talking to folks, smoothing over issues and making sure that everybody gets what they want.

[] Stewardship: Checking the purse strings, keeping things in the black, ensuring that some things can just be bought.

[] Intrigue: Keeping an ear to the ground and ensuring that toes aren't stepped on, parahuman or otherwise.

[] Learning: Writing manuscripts and learning of the Lores, keeping the library well stocked and full of information.

After checking and ensuring everything was in order you departed, heading back to your house. You do have a job to get to, and being a contractor in the PRT means your hours are long, albeit well paid.

Nonetheless, you won't be late. This cult business has been and will be on the side, on weekends and between work hours. That may change with time, but until then, you have a job, one that you will not shirk.

All Lore is now level Zero.

Winter lore is now level One.

The character sheet will be up shortly.