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

Winning Vote:
[X]Plan: Helping Arch
-[X] [BOOK] A well-worn pamphlet about a hidden regiment during World War 2 - Secret Histories Level 1. Costs 7 Funds
-[X] [BOOK] A book on breathing and how to withstand cold weather - Heart Level 1. Costs 7 Funds
-[X] [BOOK] A cookbook with a strangely large section of repairing tools - Forge Level 1. Costs 7 Funds
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll cut a few corners here, leave a bit early (Gain an extra action, will not be noticed if not done often)
-[X] On promotion and improvement (The below actions improve your chance of being selected as Director should Carol be unable to perform her duties)
--[X] You'll put the work in and bust a few gang operations
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Assist somebody else in their task
---[X] Arch (Give him the books, ask for lesson in Lantern)
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] The cult's library has a few texts, go read up on them
---[X] The manuscript on Knock (You will gain 1 scrap of Knock)
-[X] On Rites, Rituals and the things inbetween
--[X] You'll cast The Attention of the Laws (Edge)
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
-[X] A fleeting opportunity (rumor mills spin, opportunities come and go. These actions might never be available again)
--[X] Alicja has just arrived in town and is asking concerning questions. You'll have to figure out how to handle this.

What was power, really? Some said it was the sound of boots stamping in the streets, a force that marched in time with authority. Others claimed it grew from the cold, unwavering barrel of a gun or from whispers in the dark, hidden behind politics and influence. You weren't sure what the answer was if there even was a single answer, but you knew one thing: what you were doing right now had power. Not the kind of power that made headlines, but the kind that hummed in your teeth, vibrated in your bones and sent your nerves tingling with every step you took. It was a quiet power but potent power.

You paced slowly around the circle, your steps measured and deliberate. Every line, every angle, every detail of the circle had to be perfect, and it was. It was ready. The circle gleamed in the dim light, its markings seeming to glow faintly with a soft energy that stirred in the still air. You took a deep breath. Nothing had happened yet, but you could almost feel the thinning of barriers between here and the Mansus.

Holding out your hand, you didn't bother speaking. There was no need for words here. Instead, you stamped your foot against the ground hard enough that the reverberation echoed in the silence around you. The sound was sharp, like the crack of a whip, and it seemed to unlock something deep inside you, a memory that wasn't quite yours but still familiar. With each step, you marched, the rhythm of your movement calling upon something ancient, something primal.

You circled the sigil, your steps growing firmer, more certain, as your body moved with a rhythm that bypassed thought. You weren't walking anymore—you were summoning. With each step, the air grew heavier, the energy in the room thicker, until it felt like you were walking through water, pushing against the invisible weight that pressed down from all sides. Something in your chest began to stir, slow at first, like the engine of an old car struggling to start. But soon, it was roaring, filling your veins with a heat that burned beneath your skin, spreading to your limbs and into the air around you.

The sound of your feet hitting the ground faded into the chilly silence that enveloped the room, but you didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Your body wouldn't allow it. You moved around and around, unceasingly, even as your bones seemed to vibrate and your muscles screamed. The motion was beyond you now, driven by something far deeper than conscious thought. The fire inside your mind grew hotter, consuming everything, and in its flames danced in memories from a time long ago.

Old and faded scars seemed to gleam beneath your suit, hidden from view but pulsing with a light all their own. Your eyes shone, too, reflecting the energy crackling through your body and illuminating the dim room with a faint glow. You kept moving, every step a declaration of intent, a refusal to be denied. The sigil pulsed with a life of its own, responding to your presence, and yet, something deeper stirred within you—something unexpected.

"And of my son?"

"A nuchal cord, I'm sorry"

You blinked, your vision swimming as the words echoed in your head. They felt right, like they belonged to you, like they were part of your story, even though you couldn't place them. Something inside you reverberated at the sound, a deep, hollow ache blooming in your chest. It felt as though the marrow of your very soul had been plucked, the twined threads of who you were vibrating with the memory of something long forgotten—or perhaps never truly remembered.

You staggered to a stop, breathless, your heart racing as the flames in your mind flickered and dimmed. The silence in the room was deafening now, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. Slowly, you lowered yourself to the floor, your legs too shaky to hold your weight any longer. You didn't know where those words had come from, but they lingered in the air around you, heavy and laden with meaning that eluded you.

After a moment, you sighed, closing your eyes as you allowed yourself to relax, just for a moment. It didn't matter if you felt strange or if the memories of those voices clung to you like cobwebs. You had work to do, and you couldn't afford to get lost in feelings you didn't have the time to decipher. What mattered was that the summoning had worked. The power was there, humming just beneath your skin.

You sighed as you picked yourself up off the floor. It didn't matter if you felt strange or a bit weird. You had things to do, and this had been used to call upon that energy to complete your jobs. You departed from the bar with a measured pace, the fabric of your innermost heart still gleaning a brilliant silver.

You have summoned an influence of Edge, doubling your bonus for a single Action. In addition you have caused something to stir within you. Further effects may be revealed in time.

---

Knowledge is the foundation of progress. It's how humanity learned to adapt, evolve, and rise beyond the limitations of the past. But just because knowledge is essential doesn't mean it's always easy to come by—especially when it's buried under cryptic nonsense like this. You sighed, your eyes glazing over the faded manuscript, its pages old enough to smell faintly of dust and ink. This particular one, penned by Arch, was especially frustrating. "Not all doors are wounds, but all wounds are doors," the text read in careful script. It sounded profound at first glance, the sort of thing that would make philosophers nod appreciatively, but when you got right down to it, the words didn't seem to mean a damn thing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to stave off the dull ache building behind your eyes. Arch had a way of waxing poetic without offering much in the way of practical insight, and this particular passage was a prime example. Still, you couldn't afford to dismiss it. Knowledge might be a pain, but it was also your lifeline. You needed to understand these manuscripts if you were going to make any real progress.

Flipping back a few pages, you ran your fingers over the parchment, scanning the text for anything you might've missed. "Knock," the title read, one of the more enigmatic branches of lore you'd been studying. You'd learned the basics already—enough to access the Mansus. But the deeper intricacies of the principle still eluded you.

"Knock is about opening," you muttered under your breath, almost like you were trying to convince yourself. "I know that much. But what's this about wounds and doors?"

The metaphor was obvious enough, sure. Wounds could be doors—openings into something deeper, something hidden. Maybe Arch was hinting at the idea that pain, suffering, or even death itself could be gateways to other realms, other truths. But how that actually applied to your work was still maddeningly unclear.

The headache that had been lurking in the background flared up again, sharper this time. You closed the manuscript for a moment and rubbed your temples, wondering if Arch had accidentally obfuscated his writing. It wouldn't surprise you. The man had a reputation for being equal parts genius and dull witted, writing down the ideas as they came with now idea how he made people struggle. And here you were, struggling.

"Would it have killed you to write a damn instruction manual?" you grumbled, though there was no one around to hear you.

With a resigned sigh, you opened the manuscript again. You couldn't afford to give up now. Knowledge wasn't just power—it was survival. And the Mansus was too important, too dangerous to approach without full understanding. Your mind wandered briefly to the risks. Accessing the Mansus came with a price, one not everyone was willing to pay. Knowledge opened doors, but some doors led to places you could never return from.

You flipped through the scraps of parchment, piecing together fragments of meaning, your focus narrowing as you began to piece together an understanding of Knock, albeit slowly. It was like pulling a thread through a needle, a delicate and painstaking process, but gradually, you were getting there. The Mansus required patience, precision, and a willingness to dive into the unknown, to open doors without always knowing what was on the other side. And this… this was a key of sorts.

After what felt like an eternity of thumbing through pages, cross-referencing notes, and scribbling down thoughts in the margins, you finally closed the manuscript. The headache was still there, pounding away at your skull, but at least you'd made some progress. You stood up from your seat, the legs of the old wooden chair creaking under the weight of your body as you stretched, rolling your shoulders to work out the stiffness that had set in from hours of study.

You were a more learned man now—at least in the esoteric arts, and that was enough for now.

You have peeled knowledge from the manuscript Arch has written, although it was a long and annoying process. You have gained 1 scrap of Knock Lore

Knock is now level 1

---

"Afternoon, Arch," you said, strolling into the cramped office where Arch sat hunched over the desk, flipping through papers like a man possessed. The air in the room was thick with the smell of old books, candle wax, and a hint of something acrid, like ink that had been sitting too long. As you entered, his head snapped up, and you saw the almost feverish gleam in his eyes—like he hadn't slept in days.

"It doesn't make sense!" he burst out, not even giving you the chance to sit, let alone respond. His words tumbled out in a frantic stream, the kind that made you brace for something unsettling. "The Light burns behind the skin of the world, and we just need to open our eyes!" His voice rose in pitch as he lunged forward, gripping your shoulders with both hands, shaking you slightly as if the force of his revelation needed to be physically transmitted.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his intensity. "What do you mean by that?" you asked, your voice steady as you carefully peeled his fingers off your shoulders with more gentleness than you felt. His touch was clammy, his hands trembling like he was coming down from a high—or still riding it.

Arch took a shaky breath, trying and failing to calm himself. He fumbled with a stack of papers on the desk, shoving them into your face with an urgency that was almost desperate. "Look! Look what I'm trying to show you. The numbers… the numbers just don't line up!" He practically shoved the crumpled papers into your chest, like they held the secret to the universe, and he needed you to see it.

[Identifying the problem: DC 60]

[Roll: 88+1(LANTERN) = 89]

You took the papers from him but didn't look at them right away. Instead, you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to ground him, feeling the tremors running through his body. His pulse was erratic, and for a moment, you wondered if he'd been messing with something far beyond what he was ready for. You couldn't tell. You looked into his eyes—wide, wild, and shining with something dangerous. It wasn't just fear or excitement. There was Glory in them, and it was staring right back at you.

You tightened your grip on his shoulder slightly as you tried to get a better read on him. "Arch," you said quietly, trying to get him to focus. He tugged at your hand, trying to pry your fingers off, but there was no strength in the effort. He was unraveling, coming apart at the seams in front of you.

You glanced down at the papers he had shoved into your hands. A jumbled mess of words, phrases that barely made sense, scrawled formulas that seemed to go in circles. The handwriting was erratic, worse than usual—jagged, uneven, like his mind was skipping from one thought to the next without completing a single one. Half the page was scratched out, replaced by more frantic scribbling, as if he couldn't get the ideas out fast enough.

The numbers he spoke of? A chaotic mess of symbols and equations you didn't immediately recognize. You weren't a mathematician, but you didn't need to be one to see this was more than just disorganization. This was obsession. Something had him in its grip, and it wasn't letting go.

You had to decide if you wanted to deal with this, and if you did, just how.

[] Learn from him, channel that Light into lessons
-You'll continue this Action and learn from Arch, gaining a scrap of Lantern on success
-You'll gain a scrap of Lantern
-This has a chance of afflicting you with Fascination

[] Sit him down, extinguish that Light
-You'll need to pass a check, on success you'll remove his Fascination
-He may take unkindly to this
-He may be thankful

[] Drag him to the Master
-She'll remove his Fascination
-This will have an unknown effect on Arch's mind
-This may worsen her relationship with Arch

[] Leave him to his own devices
-You will not learn from him this Action
-You do not know what he might do
-His Fascination will almost certainly worsen