Cult Creator - The Pilgrims Journey
- Thread starter HeroCooky
- Start date
- Original Mature
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Of course they have people in the looting expedition. I expect by this point Insec has enough members that if they went public they could be their own sub cult.
We keep stumbling over all this epic world altering stuff. Plus while our social agenda is not dangerous to the empire, how we go about it could cause instability and conflict they do not want. Then there is the province conquering superweapon we have, the vital strategic resource we are providing loads of. . . They want to make sure nobody in the pilgrims gets Ideas, and that nobody gets ideas about the pilgrims. Because infiltrating them is going to look really tempting now for professional spies.
Ironically, this will likely result in a bit of the Pilgrim faith colonizing Intsec, as the best way to fit in to the Pilgrims is to genuinely believe in their faith and mission.
- Location
- United States
Yeah if you can perfectly infiltrate a cult then you were already prime recruitment material.
- Location
- Queensland, Australia
And let's be honest: the Pilgrim faith isn't actually something that would really interfere with doing your duty for Internal Security, would it? Not unless something really odd is going on, in which case you AND the Pilgrims probably have bigger issues...
Also just how exasperated is IntSec and the Emperor with us about the fact that we went for the Reclamation Order thinking it would be the most useful... Then we started tripping over game changing artefacts and the like all over the place?
Also just how exasperated is IntSec and the Emperor with us about the fact that we went for the Reclamation Order thinking it would be the most useful... Then we started tripping over game changing artefacts and the like all over the place?
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I bet the emperor thinks we already knew where the DoD was, and got the reclamation order in order to keep it. So we probably got a 'well played' from him.
- Location
- colombia
>meanwhile on INSEC HQ
'we have a #423'
'the pilgrims got other doomsday device?'
'yep ' *groans*
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
The Emperors canon reaction when you found the Daughter of Dawn after getting the ARO:
Also, I woul like to reiterate my statement that your rolls are bullshit.
You have yet to roll for the antimatter-nuke (or just danger in general) on the "is it actually what you found?" charts for your artifacts.
Man, we have so much to do research wise,
There's all the agricultural techs
There's psycology (of which we can only do depression but every bit helps)
There's the radio tech that is now feasible
There's the steel foundry tech
There's the upgraded ghillie suits and the shield for rangers
There are airship techs we could get
There's all the thoeries we still have to do
And then there's whatever we pull from the bunker. I'm not even sure what we should do next.
There's all the agricultural techs
There's psycology (of which we can only do depression but every bit helps)
There's the radio tech that is now feasible
There's the steel foundry tech
There's the upgraded ghillie suits and the shield for rangers
There are airship techs we could get
There's all the thoeries we still have to do
And then there's whatever we pull from the bunker. I'm not even sure what we should do next.
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Well, you're quite in luck that the Merchants are offering you that technology in exchange for some "favorable deals" next turn.
Please note that a Theory is, in essence, a reduction in the DC/an increase in chance for your research projects. Getting multiple of the same type will be inevitable to get research to be feasible in the future.
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Say, @HeroCooky, now that Silvia is five, has enough of her personality/development emerged that we have some idea what that nat 1000 was? (Or the other traits, for that matter?) Has Martyris noticed her to be exceptionally intelligent, agile, strong, kind, charismatic, etc.?
Also, if you don't mind pulling back the curtain, was DoD always there to find? Or did we actually roll for RidiculousShip to exist?
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Yeah, that seems about right. Suddenly a group of people finding a province conquering megadeath machine would result in a what.
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
To pull back the curtain, those rolls were for possible mutations she could have, not her character.
She rolled for [Animal Leg Replacement], in this case her legs are like her mothers, with patterned fur and hooves. [Modified Hearing - Cosmetic] for her ears. [Modified Inherited Body Mutation], meaning her horns growing in a circle around her head, with spikes atop like a crown. And one [Body] and one [Eye] mutation each.
Her actual character (for now) is: [Friendly][Curious][Trusting]
There are [6] special things hidden in the Forest of Rust, in various locations for you to find.
You already found the [Suspendium], the [Daughter of Dawn], and, now, the [Forgotten Bunker] stands ready to defend its secrets, and copious Artifacts, from you. (I am actually a bit giddy about that one, since you can bring PD into the Bunker for the fights ahead!)
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The Nat 1 was probably what caused her blindness, but the Nat 1000... Could be the [Body] mutation?
And now I wonder how big the Bunker is for PD to not only fit into it but also be able to swing Grieving Echo around. Alternatively, maybe Grieving Echo doesn't care about minor obstacles like walls...
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
The smallest passage your scouts found were 3-meters tall, with most hallways being aroun 15-meters tall and 40-meters wide.
That's still 3 months/1 Turn in the future.
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I must admit, if the bunker is that large, I don't understand how blowing the doors had a 50% chance of destroying anything useful.
......omigod omigod. Silvia has the immortal mutation. O.O
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Well, as a minor spoiler:
The first thing your forward scouts found was an antimatter-warhead on a truck, very likely primed and ready to explode.
And about 60~ others, all of which were quickly taken by InSec the second they found out.
[Canon] - The Chronicles of a Lowly Pilgrim: Rebirth
Ambit
Help me
- Location
- Third Circle of Hell
The Chronicles of a Lowly Pilgrim: Rebirth
Selm feels nervous.
Sweat piles above the young man's brow, which he dabs at with the torn patch of cloth that served as his poor equivalent of a handkerchief as he attempted to steel his nerves. On the side, the humble Pilgrims all stand gathered together, chatting softly about their own matters and their day-to-day lives amidst the stark electrical light of the common room. The rest of the poor-house was quiet--his own bunkmates all comfortably aslumber amidst the darkness and safety that had been so generously given to all of them.
To himself.
Selm, after all, was a refugee, a nobody--oh, what a fall from when he had been so proud. As the apprentice of the one man who knew how to read and write the complicated and complex ledgers of his little village, the young man's love for arrogantly assuming the airs of an exaggerated intellectual was only countered by his genuine love of old stories, legends, and history.
Yes, history. Such was Selm's boyhood dream, to enter a fabled institute of learning and join the esteemed ranks of historians, archaeologists, and sociologists piecing together the cracked and ashen shards of the past. How much of the legends shared by his bedridden grandfather and spouted by the fiery village priest were true? What exactly has changed in the land that he and his forefathers have lived in over time--what stories might have faded away and were still itching to be found to be added to the Empire's records? What of the history of other lands, other hidden records around Calynth?
What caused the Collapse?
All dreams might not end in blood and fire, but his certainly did. When he closes his eyes at night he still sees the fires, still hears the screams. In his dreams he still makes the choice to run, and once more hears the howls of the Mutants on the horizon to tear into the dead--to tear into him.
How he alone of his village had managed to survive and run for several days straight while missing both of his shoes at the same time was still a mystery to himself and to everyone he'd told his story to--and it would probably end up as another little question of history that would forever go unsolved.
Pride goes before the fall, and so the previously pompous young man had staggered into the city in soiled and raggedy clothing, with bleeding feet ladden with embedded rocks, brambles, and sores, and glassy eyes that saw nothing but the ashes of his home and his screaming and crippled family members. He'd fully expected to die to starvation, to dehydration, to simple exposure as the underground structures of the true city were blocked to him and he was forced to contend with the harsh elements of the outside.
Instead he'd been carefully led into a comfortable expanse full of beds and rooms and free meals.
Life did not change much from that starting point over the next couple of months--well of course he tried to find work and all that within the overpopulated and crowded walls (to abysmal failure despite his literacy) but he was...distracted. His hosts--their ways, their actions, their ever-shifting culture. Their open-handed "war" (though considering the way they fought with kindness and words, perhaps a better word was "outreach") against the Church of Eden, a mainstay of the Empire for generations upon generations...and their seeming victories.
A newly founded religion, so others said. Barely a decade old. And with every day came more news, more changes. Ripples spreading far and wide before his very eyes.
And so here he was now, standing in the dark while facing the far-off light. Selm gathers what little tattered remains there were of his faux-scholarly confidence and carefully walks towards his hosts from the hallway. He knew the Pilgrims were learned--more learned than so many even if there was supposedly a gulf between them and the Forge Clans and the local 4S-affliated chapter. So many technologies recaptured from the past through strength of arms and courage, so much progress through diligence and simple bodily endurance.
Would they want him? He, a weak-bodied fool who was barely literate by the standards of the best and brightest? A worthless body taking up space that could be given to a much more deserving other? An idiot with more hot air than wisdom?
He looks down and though he is fully-dressed, he still sees the blood covering his bare feet--the blood of his fellow villagers who he'd abandoned for his own survival. Would they accept a coward?
He steels himself.
As a young boy, Selm had always thought of history as stories that have already happened. Chronicles to be written on the past and pieced together--events that could no longer be changed, but puzzled out and recorded to uncover and derive hidden meanings. But over the past few months, he has realized another truth...that history was something that also involved the present. History had been happening right before his eyes.
And he could be a part of it.
Selm steps into the light--and upon seeing that the poor-house's caretakers seem unnoticing of his presence, forces himself to cough. One older woman--a Mutated with a single sharp horn in the center of her forehead--looks up at him. "Ah, Selm! Is something the matter?" Her smile is warm and caring even as the young man's eyes are drawn to the clean white symbol on her sleeve that seems to glow under the lighting. "Trouble sleeping I'm guessing? The old jug of milk still has some leftover, if you'd like. That'll get you nodding off in no time." The other Pilgrims nod and smile with her.
"Ah--no, n-no thanks, that's not w-why I..." He pinches himself, takes in a breath, and runs over what he'd rehearsed. "That's not why I've approached you at the moment. You see...I've been here for some time now, and you all know me very well. I've watched as you--the Pilgrims--have taken on insurmountable odds in spreading your creed of openness, love and hope, and in making the world a better place. I've decided to try and join your ranks--"
"Really?! Oh, we'd love to have you!"
"I understand that knowing my failures and follies you would--wait what."
Wait, what?
He's surrounded suddenly--and there are even brighter smiles and expressions of joy and well-wishes, the earnest shaking of both of his hands and even a short hug from that older woman who'd been stationed there the most and known him the longest. A warmth that comforts him...and confuses him.
Wait, it was that easy?!
And so the Pilgrim's journey begins.
---
If there's any mistakes/things preventing it from being canon, please let me know. I enjoy the worldbuilding of this quest, but think that for all the focus on the Pilgrims...there's some holes to be filled in terms of the ground-up. So here's the viewpoint character--Selm is a wannabe historical/chronicler scholar with a severe amount of self-esteem issues, survivor's guilt, and depression. He's going into the Pilgrims from the ground up at their current level of establishment to chronicle what he finds in the ways of life and littler traditions of the Pilgrims.
Selm feels nervous.
Sweat piles above the young man's brow, which he dabs at with the torn patch of cloth that served as his poor equivalent of a handkerchief as he attempted to steel his nerves. On the side, the humble Pilgrims all stand gathered together, chatting softly about their own matters and their day-to-day lives amidst the stark electrical light of the common room. The rest of the poor-house was quiet--his own bunkmates all comfortably aslumber amidst the darkness and safety that had been so generously given to all of them.
To himself.
Selm, after all, was a refugee, a nobody--oh, what a fall from when he had been so proud. As the apprentice of the one man who knew how to read and write the complicated and complex ledgers of his little village, the young man's love for arrogantly assuming the airs of an exaggerated intellectual was only countered by his genuine love of old stories, legends, and history.
Yes, history. Such was Selm's boyhood dream, to enter a fabled institute of learning and join the esteemed ranks of historians, archaeologists, and sociologists piecing together the cracked and ashen shards of the past. How much of the legends shared by his bedridden grandfather and spouted by the fiery village priest were true? What exactly has changed in the land that he and his forefathers have lived in over time--what stories might have faded away and were still itching to be found to be added to the Empire's records? What of the history of other lands, other hidden records around Calynth?
What caused the Collapse?
All dreams might not end in blood and fire, but his certainly did. When he closes his eyes at night he still sees the fires, still hears the screams. In his dreams he still makes the choice to run, and once more hears the howls of the Mutants on the horizon to tear into the dead--to tear into him.
How he alone of his village had managed to survive and run for several days straight while missing both of his shoes at the same time was still a mystery to himself and to everyone he'd told his story to--and it would probably end up as another little question of history that would forever go unsolved.
Pride goes before the fall, and so the previously pompous young man had staggered into the city in soiled and raggedy clothing, with bleeding feet ladden with embedded rocks, brambles, and sores, and glassy eyes that saw nothing but the ashes of his home and his screaming and crippled family members. He'd fully expected to die to starvation, to dehydration, to simple exposure as the underground structures of the true city were blocked to him and he was forced to contend with the harsh elements of the outside.
Instead he'd been carefully led into a comfortable expanse full of beds and rooms and free meals.
Life did not change much from that starting point over the next couple of months--well of course he tried to find work and all that within the overpopulated and crowded walls (to abysmal failure despite his literacy) but he was...distracted. His hosts--their ways, their actions, their ever-shifting culture. Their open-handed "war" (though considering the way they fought with kindness and words, perhaps a better word was "outreach") against the Church of Eden, a mainstay of the Empire for generations upon generations...and their seeming victories.
A newly founded religion, so others said. Barely a decade old. And with every day came more news, more changes. Ripples spreading far and wide before his very eyes.
And so here he was now, standing in the dark while facing the far-off light. Selm gathers what little tattered remains there were of his faux-scholarly confidence and carefully walks towards his hosts from the hallway. He knew the Pilgrims were learned--more learned than so many even if there was supposedly a gulf between them and the Forge Clans and the local 4S-affliated chapter. So many technologies recaptured from the past through strength of arms and courage, so much progress through diligence and simple bodily endurance.
Would they want him? He, a weak-bodied fool who was barely literate by the standards of the best and brightest? A worthless body taking up space that could be given to a much more deserving other? An idiot with more hot air than wisdom?
He looks down and though he is fully-dressed, he still sees the blood covering his bare feet--the blood of his fellow villagers who he'd abandoned for his own survival. Would they accept a coward?
He steels himself.
As a young boy, Selm had always thought of history as stories that have already happened. Chronicles to be written on the past and pieced together--events that could no longer be changed, but puzzled out and recorded to uncover and derive hidden meanings. But over the past few months, he has realized another truth...that history was something that also involved the present. History had been happening right before his eyes.
And he could be a part of it.
Selm steps into the light--and upon seeing that the poor-house's caretakers seem unnoticing of his presence, forces himself to cough. One older woman--a Mutated with a single sharp horn in the center of her forehead--looks up at him. "Ah, Selm! Is something the matter?" Her smile is warm and caring even as the young man's eyes are drawn to the clean white symbol on her sleeve that seems to glow under the lighting. "Trouble sleeping I'm guessing? The old jug of milk still has some leftover, if you'd like. That'll get you nodding off in no time." The other Pilgrims nod and smile with her.
"Ah--no, n-no thanks, that's not w-why I..." He pinches himself, takes in a breath, and runs over what he'd rehearsed. "That's not why I've approached you at the moment. You see...I've been here for some time now, and you all know me very well. I've watched as you--the Pilgrims--have taken on insurmountable odds in spreading your creed of openness, love and hope, and in making the world a better place. I've decided to try and join your ranks--"
"Really?! Oh, we'd love to have you!"
"I understand that knowing my failures and follies you would--wait what."
Wait, what?
He's surrounded suddenly--and there are even brighter smiles and expressions of joy and well-wishes, the earnest shaking of both of his hands and even a short hug from that older woman who'd been stationed there the most and known him the longest. A warmth that comforts him...and confuses him.
Wait, it was that easy?!
And so the Pilgrim's journey begins.
---
If there's any mistakes/things preventing it from being canon, please let me know. I enjoy the worldbuilding of this quest, but think that for all the focus on the Pilgrims...there's some holes to be filled in terms of the ground-up. So here's the viewpoint character--Selm is a wannabe historical/chronicler scholar with a severe amount of self-esteem issues, survivor's guilt, and depression. He's going into the Pilgrims from the ground up at their current level of establishment to chronicle what he finds in the ways of life and littler traditions of the Pilgrims.
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HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Candle to lightbulb.
add "complicated and complex" before ledgers, as most (70%) people in Tessen know how to read. A statistic which goes up as you go away from cities, as you'd need those skills to read warnings/information left by others about the dangers around you.
As stated, city-folk are leass literate than country-bumpkins.
And I loved it! Canon!
Choose a story:
[] A Librarians Duty
[] In The Eyes Of Crinkle
[] A New Dawn Amongst Setting Suns
Ambit
Help me
- Location
- Third Circle of Hell
Edits made, thank you for the feedback.
Let's pick this.
[X] A New Dawn Amongst Setting Suns
Let's pick this.