You've been recruited into a cult, something small that turned out to be just a little bit more. However you can't just leave, you agree with their points after all. The world is crooked and there are things older than the history that is known. A shame that most people aren't likely to see it that way.
Earth Bet: House of the Sun (Cultist Simulator/Worm)
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Another History: Backgrounds and Beginnings
This was the first portion of the quest. It ended when the main character died. You can find the second part here
Earth Bet, a place where you can forge your own future and live a peaceful life. Despite all the new changes, that idea still holds true. Even though monstrous beings stalk the streets and, entire towns are condemned. It matters not who you are; there is a path forward, the idea that has made your nation what it was for so many years.
But that's the thing, it was just an idea…
Is that really how things are? Does hard work really get you anywhere? It has been proven wrong once before. Good deeds and horrible acts can ascend somebody beyond what they were before. Alexandria and the car crash, Legend and the lynch mob, Eidolon, and the falling building—all of them have taken a step beyond the mortal through deeds that have emblazoned them across the minds of humanity.
The idea that hard work and good luck could improve your lot in life has been disproven, cast aside as a new parahumanity rose up. If that idea, that fact that dwelled in the marrow of this world for millennia could be disproven in a mere thirty years, couldn't other ideas be disproven as well.
Perhaps the idea that psychics as it is, facts laid down by greats from centuries past. Does flight not contest with Newton? Does conjuring lasers from your fingertips not disprove Einstein? The mere existence of these powers has shattered old facts and old sciences that were thought rock solid have been cast aside as new ideas rose to the forefront.
Those ideas are powerful things that have crept into the minds of humanity. This is an exception, they crow. Just because one thing is different doesn't mean anything else is different, they cry. Yet they are blind, dismissing anything greater. Even as they delve into parahumanity, their old ideas have grown roots in their souls, impossible to pull out.
However, those ideas are wrong, both old and new. There are older laws, older times than can be charted through soil, and powers older than a mere thirty years. You just have to open your eyes and step out of the shadows. The light may be merciless, but it also holds truth.
And just isn't that an idea?
You wake up, you can feel it in your bones. Something is going to happen today, something special. You can't help but think back, back to where this all began and how you got wrapped up in all of it.
It was a little over a year ago, December 31st, 2002. An angel had come down from the heavens and looked over the city of Lausanne. A song, a gentle melody from her lips, had crooned out and wrapped around the ears of everybody in the city.
People were wary, but as the day passed and nothing, they grew bold and brave. Parties were set up, congregations flocked to the streets to celebrate an angel of the lord, people arrived outside the city to peer upon her majesty.
Then she screamed, her former melody twisting as she twisted everybody inside the city. Within the day, everybody inside was dead or mad, and soon after, it was declared that the entire city would be walled off, left to die. You had left, departing from your home upon hearing that information, and found a bar, someplace to just have a drink and try to forget.
The bits and pieces of the story grew and coalesced as you sat there at the counter, drinking as you tried to forget the faces you saw in the cameras. Nobody truly knew what happened either; ideas and theories floated around, but none of them seemed to click.
"Why so glum?" a voice asked, and you looked up from your drink. A man had sat next to you with an easygoing smile on his face.
"An entire city died," you had replied, morse and not all that wanted to listen to this man. Perhaps you had a bit too much to drink, but you didn't just stand up and leave as your vision fuzzed; you sat there and listened instead as he spoke again.
"And things happen all the time. Why does this affect you so much?" he asked once again, his smile fading somewhat as he poked and prodded. Your vision blurred as you spoke once again.
"This is a change, it could have been something good and it was bad," you told him, this time your voice wasn't as calm. It was an angel who had drifted down from behind the clouds and sung to the people of that fine city. You had hoped this change, one among many would have been good. Yet the city was demented; they turned against each other because of that same person who sang for three days and nights.
"Ah, so it's the change that brought you down," he said, contentedness in his voice as he seemingly settled on the problem.
"No, no," you had told him, "It's that all these changes are bad. All these upheavals of the world just make things shitty," you had slurred. Looking back, you remembered how he had smiled, a coy small thing, as he leaned in closer to you.
"Are all changes bad, are all of these mysteries such an awful thing?" he had asked and for the first time you hadn't responded, he reached out and tapped your lips silencing you.
"Are all of these changes new or just a return to older times?" he asked once again as you finally looked up from his drink as he kept speaking, whatever he had seen inside of you resonating with the words he spoke.
What did he see inside you?
(This will choose the cult's primary principal of the cult you are joining. This cannot be changed without a monumental amount of time and effort. Your initial principal will align with your cults. However, that can be changed much more easily as you learn more about the world and its secrets.)
[] He spoke of this world, how many other worlds are known to exist, and the passageways between them. Figuratively between nations and literally when speaking of the other worlds that have been discovered. (KNOCK is the principle of openings, and of finding hidden passages and portals. It entails secrets that both locksmiths and burglars share, even if they do not realize it.)
[] He spoke about knowledge, and about how some realizations can be so shocking that normal people might even shy away from trying to discover them. He wondered aloud about how people could claim to know so much and yet not even be able to answer a question as simple as "From where do powers come from?" (LANTERN is the principle of knowledge and of its light that is both illuminating and unkind. It entails secrets that are held by oracles, even if they do not realize it, and scholars, even if they later regret it.)
[] He spoke about change, and its necessity. After all, it is not enough to keep a tool sharp for it to be useful, sometimes it is necessary to smelt it down and forge a new one. And about the fact that, surely, that must also hold true for greater principles. Perhaps even the world itself, no? (FORGE is the principle of transformation, fire and destruction, and of reshaping on all levels, be them physical or spiritual. It holds the secrets that both blacksmiths and rebels share deep down in their cores).
[] He spoke about conflict and how even in times of peace it is inevitable. Everything from competition between children, the daily clashing of life and even combat a burden being borne but the new parahumanity. But what rewards might be reaped from conflict, if it is so natural? (EDGE is the principle of violence and cunning, and of strengthening through confrontation, no matter what shape it takes. Its secrets are shared by soldiers and merchants, and any creature who sees itself as a predator.)
[] He spoke about life, and how it inevitably leads to death. About stories, and how they inevitably lead to endings. And how all of that was so very beautiful. But whenever you tried to recall his words, you realized he didn't speak much at all. (WINTER is the principle of endings, cold, beauty and silence. It encompasses all things that have already ended and waits patiently for all things that will end. But one knowledgeable on its ways might figure out how to work around endings, and perhaps death itself.)
[] He spoke about life, and its unceasing energy and continuity. About how all creatures seem to be dancing a grand dance in pace with the heartbeat of the world itself. Neither his words nor his smile stopped for even a moment, and during the whole conversation her fingers kept beating against the bar top. The rhythm was almost hypnotizing. (HEART is the principle of life, preservation and protection, as well as of the dance that must never cease. It is known, even if subconsciously, by any creature that knows happiness and perseverance in the face of adversity, and it is put into practice by dancers.)
[] He spoke about how dry and dull the world truly was, even if nobody was willing to admit it. About how nothing new is ever created by people, only maintained, and about how the world itself seems to have forgotten about what can be learned from the satisfaction of desire. Your eyes almost didn't leave his while she spoke, to the point where you almost didn't listen to what he was saying. (GRAIL is the principle of desire, seduction and thirst. It knows about all things succulent and treats both charisma and seduction as the most pleasant of tools.)
[] He spoke about secrets, about how the world hides its own in the most unusual of ways, and about how those secrets change and transform while the world isn't looking. He didn't talk in circles, but he didn't talk in a straight line either, and at the end of it you were left with the irrevocable impression that something was in the wrong shape. Although you couldn't tell if it was the world, or yourself. (MOTH is the principle of unreason, secrecy and change. It understands chaos by understanding nothing at all and can only be learned by following your own whims. But inevitably, it leads you to where you truly desire to be.)
[] He spoke about the history of this world, and how it sometimes looks more like a knot than a straight line, and about how sometimes it even contradicts itself. It is a commonly held belief that the present can go towards many futures, but is it also possible for the present to be connected to many pasts? (SECRET HISTORIES is the principle of the world itself. It is the study and knowledge of the frailty of cause and effect, and of the secret places where more than one possibility took place.)
This quest is heavily inspired by BirdBodhisattva's own Cultist Simulater quest and I have taken text from that. You should go read that one, it's pretty amazing Esquestria: The House of the Sun - A pony cultist experience
I have returned to Cultist Simulator after quite a long time and it has hooked me again. I also have read quite a few other combinations of Worm and that game. So I'd thought I'd try my hand at it. The basic premise is that you have been recruited into a cult about a year ago and just now are they starting to make moves. However just because your cult disagrees with how things are doesn't mean that your personal goals align, just that they do for now. This vote will be held upon for around a day and after that will be character creation.
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Another History: Character Creation
[X] He spoke about life, and how it inevitably leads to death. About stories, and how they inevitably lead to endings. And how all of that was so very beautiful. But whenever you tried to recall his words, you realized he didn't speak much at all. (WINTER is the principle of endings, cold, beauty and silence. It encompasses all things that have already ended and waits patiently for all things that will end. But one knowledgeable on its ways might figure out how to work around endings, and perhaps death itself.)
That was how everything had started, a conversation in a bar and a few words that drew you in. That's why you were waking up early today, heading out to go to a cult meeting when you normally would be sleeping in.
Being part of a cult had been strange. The words had stuck in the back of your throat. It didn't feel like a cult; you didn't worship the Endbringers like the most well-known cult.
In the end, though, you accepted that title; in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man was king. Yet that man who saw would be decried as a heretic. So a cult you were, and you were content with that.
However that's not all that you were, washing your face in water you look up and into a mirror.
What do you see? Vote by plan
[] Name (Write in)
[] Male
[] Female
[] Appearance (Write in or image)
You currently live in the United States, but did you always live here?
[] What country are you from? (Write in, +2 to a stat and +1 to a different stat of your choice)
You have four coins. Everything costs a coin unless stated otherwise
[] 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)
[] Beautiful: Heads turn when you walk past them and you are well versed in using that. (+2 Intrigue, +5 when trying to seduce other creatures, or just be pleasant)
[] Silver Tongued: Complicated words to impress the simple minded, complicated arguments to impress the wise. You know well how to weave them. (+3 to Diplomacy)
[] Attentive to Details: You have a spreadsheet for your finances and your wallet thanks you. (+2 Stewardship, +5 when negotiating a commercial deal)
[] Well Read: You are fond of libraries and the smell of well worn books. (+2 Learning, +5 when attempting to decipher or learn from books and texts)
[] Healthy: Your heart beats louder and your skin is more resilient. (+1 Health)
[] Naturally Talented: You are just a bit faster, a bit sharper and a bit more well built. Some people are simply better. (+1 to all stats) Costs two coins
Your parents? (This gives you a few contacts you can call upon as well as your backstory) Pick one
[] Normal folk: The lifeblood of the world, people who live and die without doing much, without meaning much. Yet they raised you as well as they could and love you. (Default) Costs zero coins
[] 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)
[] Librarians: Those who keep text and ensure words never die. Books were always scattered about the house. They've imparted the most basic lesson, how to learn. (+2 Learning, +1 Intrigue, -1 Martial)
[] Merchants: The give and take of goods, people who always got the best deal and their customers walked away happy. They've taught you how to do that, and always get an extra bit of cash. (+2 Stewardship, +1 Diplomacy, -1 Intrigue)
[] Travelers: Vagabonds, people who wander the world with nothing more than the items on their backs. You've been taught tricks and tips, even the more illegal ones. (+2 Intrigue, +1 Diplomacy, -1 Learning)
[] Old Money: You never wanted for anything, as the red carpet for life was rolled out for you.. Your parents never taught you much, they were never around after all. (Start out with a well paying job, good contacts and servants to perform a single free action each turn) Costs two coins
A major event in your life?
[] 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)
[] 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)
[] Overperformed at work: A heroic deed, a failure into a success. Whatever happened you reached above your station and have been rewarded. (Start with two months worth of funds)
[] Helped bust a gang operation: A bit of eavesdropping turned into proper stalking and before you knew it you had a case on your hands. (+1 Intrigue, start with contacts in local law enforcement)
[] You realized you're well liked: The folks around you gather and hang on to your every word, you're a local informal leader. (+1 Diplomacy, start with a good relationship with the locals)
[] You forged connections with suppliers: The people who keep the city running, shipers, truckers and many more. (+1 to Stewardship, start with contacts among merchants)
[] You graduated: A rarity among most, despite the importance placed on it. You also met a few fellow scholars. (+1 to learning, start with contacts among scholars)
And the complications?
[] Married: You have a spouse and a wonderful daughter, they demand your attention and time. If something were to happen to them you don't know what you would do (+1 coin)
[] Addicted: There is something you adore, something you just can't go without. (Reduce personal income by a quarter, +1 coin)
[] Frightened: Trauma, or a weakness that you were born with? It doesn't quite matter as you're simply weaker than most. (-10 to Personal Combat, +1 coin)
[] Scarred: You survived, but not untouched. (-1 Health, +1 coin)
[] Enemies: There is somebody out there, this somebody has a bone to pick with you. (You start with an enemy, +1 coin)
[] 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)
When you look in the mirror you see something else, noticeable not with a first glance, but with a second. (Replaces the nationality stat bonuses, you can only take one, costs two coins)
[] Your heart beats louder, audible to those who care to listen (+2 Health, +5 when resisting things that would harm your body, other effects to be shown with time)
[] Your skin is flush, it always is (+4 Diplomacy, +5 when trying to convince somebody of something, other effects will be revealed with time)
[] You cannot be denied, not without effort (+4 Martial +5 to Personal Combat, other effects will be revealed with time)
[] Your fingers are long, nimble, and triple jointed (+4 Intrigue, +5 when attempting to open something, other effects will be revealed with time)
[] Your skin is inhumanly pale, when you exhale mist emerges (+4 Stewardship, +5 when resisting things that would harm your mind, other effects will be revealed with time)
[] Your eyes glow slightly, only seen on the darkest nights (+4 Learning, +5 to learn the secrets that are within an object)
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Another History: The Cult
[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)
-[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.
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Another History: Turn 1
It was Monday, which meant it was time to return to work. Rising from the bed in your apartment, you headed into the bathroom and then the shower. Cleaning yourself, you made sure you were properly groomed before getting dressed.
Underwear, pants, shirt, suit jacket, then shocks. It didn't take long, and your breakfast consisted of simple bacon, eggs, and a glass of milk. After putting the dishes into the dishwasher, you departed, leaving your apartment and stepping into his car.
It was a nice, cheap, and well-loved car. You had gotten it on a fairly hefty sale one day, and it has served you well ever since. The traffic is really the worst part. It is a nearly forty-minute drive that would normally take twenty, but well, you supposed that was just the price of living in Houston.
Turning on your blinking, you made a quick right-hand turn. It was a shortcut that would save you some time. You then fiddled with the dials on the radio, and soon, music was playing through the car. Your lips quirked down as Christmas music came out.
It was December, and you could almost forget it down here. Even on the longest nights, there wasn't an inch of snow, and the temperature never dropped below sixty. You could walk outside in your suit on Christmas Eve and not get frostbite. It was a strange experience, and one that part of you disagreed with; the other part of you was glad to be away from Poland.
You returned your focus to the road, those thoughts falling to the wayside as you kept driving. You could remember the past, but it was best not to focus on it. Your history made you who you were, but that didn't mean it defined your future.
Eventually, you arrived at the Protectorate Headquarters. As a consultant, you did get a fancy spot near the front. Parking your car, you stepped out and headed indoors, nodding to the secretary at the front desk on your way up.
Your office wasn't anything fancy; your work was mainly paperwork, after all, but it got the job done. That did irritate you slightly. You had been promoted from ground commander to this role. It was better for the cult but didn't suit you nearly as well.
"Morning, Mr. Donovan!" a young, bubbly voice said as your door was opened. You raised an eyebrow as Charlotte strolled in. She was your secretary, even if such words felt strange. You didn't need somebody to fetch you coffee, read your emails, or type things out to you.
However, despite what misconceptions the job title might have given you at first, combined with her enduring almost naive personality, she was competent. In fact, the reason you got through so much work was in no small part due to her assistance. You just weren't a paperwork guy, even if you had been promoted to it.
"Good morning," you replied as you pressed the on button on your computer, which started up long and loudly.
"Apologies, but the Director requested a meeting with the heads this morning. The email only went out about half an hour ago," she told you with a thin smile. She clearly knew it would be irritating, but the two of you knew it was better to know now than to miss a meeting. The Director was stern and strict, so getting on her bad side was a poor idea.
"Very well," you said as you pressed the power button again, causing the machine to immediately flicker and turn off. Rising to your feet, you strode out of the office, ducking your head to avoid the doorframe.
You quickly walked through the office space, making your way to the first briefing room. You weren't sure why the Director wanted a meeting first thing in the morning, but that normally boded ill.
Stepping inside the room, you sat on one of the many chairs circling the long table. There were a handful of other people here, consulters and commanders for the most part, but strangely enough, you did notice a Youth Guard representative.
Your lips curled down at that. You didn't have a high opinion of them. They seemed to be focused on getting in the way and causing problems more than actually doing anything. Your ideas for getting some Wards into shape had been shot down once or twice without talking about it.
However, you didn't really know the real reason why you were here; you just sat back and waited for the meeting to start.
At nine o'clock sharp, a whip-thin woman strode in. She was wearing a suit, and her blonde hair was closely cut. She had a very small smile on her face, but it didn't suit her. She wasn't much of a smiler, and this was merely her way of trying to put people at ease. It didn't work.
"It has been requested that we are to prepare to accept Wards from out of state. They will be arriving within the next month. We are here to discuss how best to aid them in that as well as patrol timing," she stated before sitting down.
"First thing is a list," one of the commanders stated to various nods. You did see sheets of paper already being sent around. You picked one up and ran your eyes down it.
No names you regonzined but from the short blurbs you got there was a very good reason they were being sent here. Quite a few discipline problems as well as a general failure to improve in the physical fields. Houston was known for training and working out knots in Wards so it was no surprise that you were being sent the chaff to hone.
Setting the paper down, you leaned back. You weren't going to have much to say here. Your field was marital, not any of the other stuff. So you just watched as the meeting evolved, and people kept talking.
You really wished this had been an email; you could have gotten so much done this time.
You sighed as you got into your car. Today had been a long day, and you were just happy to be going home. You would get some rest before you had to go back tomorrow. You also had a few other plans.
You then heard your phone ring, so you fished it out of your pocket, holding it up to your ear as you drove out of the parking garage.
"Hello, this is Michael Donovan."
"There is a meeting tonight," Anatoly stated. You blinked at that. You didn't really expect another one so soon, but you suppose with everything getting in order, the Master probably wanted to give out orders.
"I'll be there in.." you trailed off as you checked the dashboard clock, "In about an hour."
"Understood."
With that, the phone clicked off. You then flicked your turn signal on and started heading towards the exit. You'd have to make a few maneuvers to get off properly, but otherwise, the drive was going to be fairly boring as normal.
You stepped inside the bar with the closed sign still hanging above the door. Nobody was around to watch you; most were likely home or doing something else just after work. You climbed the stairs up to the meeting room and settled on the floor. The others had arrived, and it looked like they were just waiting for you.
You felt your heart start to thump, and your breath seemed to fog in the air, despite neither really happening. The Master emerged from the hidden door, still just as young and small-looking and still just as heart-stoppingly terrifying.
"Anatoly, you will ensure this place is ready for work and can store both bodies and prisoners," she stated, her voice scraping against your mind. A small part of you flinched at the matter-of-factness, but you were part of a cult; cults weren't all that nice.
"Ai, the important people need to listen to us. Ensure that criminals and the constabulary alike have reason to obey us," she continued, marching forward.
"Jane, recruit people. The poor and the desperate will be your first choice," the Master's voice hesitated a moment before she said Jane. Did she know Jane's real name, or did she not like false names?
Despite knowing her for over a year, you knew little about the Master. She was young in body, relentless, and had a desire to destroy or unmake things, as she called it. You returned your focus as she started to speak again.
"Arch, gather books and information. You will ensure everybody can be taught."
Arch nodded at that but, for once, kept his mouth shut. The Master's terrifying presence was useful in that he seemed to understand for once when not to poke and prod, despite his clear urge to.
"Michael," she said, turning her gaze to you. You held firm but shuddered slightly.
"Train the fodder and search for information regarding the Endbringers. We will be unmaking them and that will require great effort."
With that, she turned on her heel and departed, the nonexistent chill and tension fading as she left the room. However there was still a metallic tang in your mouth, a faint feeling of writhing in your gut.
You held back a sigh. You had driven an hour to get here, and all you got were orders to do things you were already planning on doing. Well, there was no use complaining about it; you had things to do and not enough time in the day.
It was time to get to work.
You Master spoke of conflict, of tension and unmaking. You've learned something about the world and the engine that move it. Gain 1 scrap of Edge lore
Edge lore has reached level 1
Vote by plan
Possible Actions: You have 4 Actions each month, more can be gained by spending less time at work.
You have 2 months until the cult reconvenes, it is expected you have accomplished at least one thing of note by then.
Current Funds: 100
Income: 100 Funds/Month
[] On work and the challenges it entails.
-[] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[] You'll cut a few corners here, leave a bit early (Gain an extra action, will not be noticed if not done often)
-[] You've got sick days, use them (Gain two extra actions, will be noticed by your direct superior, although the full extent is unknown.)
-[] Something has come up and you'll be out of the office for a week (Gain three extra actions, may be noticed by the Director although the response is not known)
-[] You can't even step foot in the office this month (Gain four extra actions, you will be called out on this)
[] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
-[] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[] Ask around, start seeing what folks know (Minor suspicion)
-[] Dig into the files, take a peek at confidential information (Major suspicion)
[] On furthering the cause.
-[] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
-[] Assist somebody else in their task
--[] Who? (Write in)
-[] Items and strange artifacts, go search for them. They could be useful
-[] You are the commander, but strong and stout men loyal to you alone would be useful
-[] You don't need fighters, you just need those who are willing to work for you
[] On learning the Lores.
-[] Search for books
--[] In the local libraries and bookstores
--[] Stranger and more hidden places
--[] Online, from places abroad (Will cost 10 Funds per book in shipping)
-[] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
--[] What lore? (Write in, she is willing to teach all Lores, except Heart, up to level two)
[] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
-[] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
-[] Climb higher, Glory awaits
[] On matters outside the cult.
-[] Spend time with somebody
--[] Who? (Write in)
-[] Get to know somebody
--[] Who? (Write in, somebody from work, a low level person inside the cult, a random joe on the street etc)
[] Something else? (Write in, must be approved by QM)
Underwear, pants, shirt, suit jacket, then shocks. It didn't take long, and your breakfast consisted of simple bacon, eggs, and a glass of milk. After putting the dishes into the dishwasher, you departed, leaving your apartment and stepping into his car.
It was a nice, cheap, and well-loved car. You had gotten it on a fairly hefty sale one day, and it has served you well ever since. The traffic is really the worst part. It is a nearly forty-minute drive that would normally take twenty, but well, you supposed that was just the price of living in Houston.
Turning on your blinking, you made a quick right-hand turn. It was a shortcut that would save you some time. You then fiddled with the dials on the radio, and soon, music was playing through the car. Your lips quirked down as Christmas music came out.
It was December, and you could almost forget it down here. Even on the longest nights, there wasn't an inch of snow, and the temperature never dropped below sixty. You could walk outside in your suit on Christmas Eve and not get frostbite. It was a strange experience, and one that part of you disagreed with; the other part of you was glad to be away from Poland.
You returned your focus to the road, those thoughts falling to the wayside as you kept driving. You could remember the past, but it was best not to focus on it. Your history made you who you were, but that didn't mean it defined your future.
Eventually, you arrived at the Protectorate Headquarters. As a consultant, you did get a fancy spot near the front. Parking your car, you stepped out and headed indoors, nodding to the secretary at the front desk on your way up.
Your office wasn't anything fancy; your work was mainly paperwork, after all, but it got the job done. That did irritate you slightly. You had been promoted from ground commander to this role. It was better for the cult but didn't suit you nearly as well.
"Morning, Mr. Donovan!" a young, bubbly voice said as your door was opened. You raised an eyebrow as Charlotte strolled in. She was your secretary, even if such words felt strange. You didn't need somebody to fetch you coffee, read your emails, or type things out to you.
However, despite what misconceptions the job title might have given you at first, combined with her enduring almost naive personality, she was competent. In fact, the reason you got through so much work was in no small part due to her assistance. You just weren't a paperwork guy, even if you had been promoted to it.
"Good morning," you replied as you pressed the on button on your computer, which started up long and loudly.
"Apologies, but the Director requested a meeting with the heads this morning. The email only went out about half an hour ago," she told you with a thin smile. She clearly knew it would be irritating, but the two of you knew it was better to know now than to miss a meeting. The Director was stern and strict, so getting on her bad side was a poor idea.
"Very well," you said as you pressed the power button again, causing the machine to immediately flicker and turn off. Rising to your feet, you strode out of the office, ducking your head to avoid the doorframe.
You quickly walked through the office space, making your way to the first briefing room. You weren't sure why the Director wanted a meeting first thing in the morning, but that normally boded ill.
Stepping inside the room, you sat on one of the many chairs circling the long table. There were a handful of other people here, consulters and commanders for the most part, but strangely enough, you did notice a Youth Guard representative.
Your lips curled down at that. You didn't have a high opinion of them. They seemed to be focused on getting in the way and causing problems more than actually doing anything. Your ideas for getting some Wards into shape had been shot down once or twice without talking about it.
However, you didn't really know the real reason why you were here; you just sat back and waited for the meeting to start.
At nine o'clock sharp, a whip-thin woman strode in. She was wearing a suit, and her blonde hair was closely cut. She had a very small smile on her face, but it didn't suit her. She wasn't much of a smiler, and this was merely her way of trying to put people at ease. It didn't work.
"It has been requested that we are to prepare to accept Wards from out of state. They will be arriving within the next month. We are here to discuss how best to aid them in that as well as patrol timing," she stated before sitting down.
"First thing is a list," one of the commanders stated to various nods. You did see sheets of paper already being sent around. You picked one up and ran your eyes down it.
No names you regonzined but from the short blurbs you got there was a very good reason they were being sent here. Quite a few discipline problems as well as a general failure to improve in the physical fields. Houston was known for training and working out knots in Wards so it was no surprise that you were being sent the chaff to hone.
Setting the paper down, you leaned back. You weren't going to have much to say here. Your field was marital, not any of the other stuff. So you just watched as the meeting evolved, and people kept talking.
You really wished this had been an email; you could have gotten so much done this time.
You sighed as you got into your car. Today had been a long day, and you were just happy to be going home. You would get some rest before you had to go back tomorrow. You also had a few other plans.
You then heard your phone ring, so you fished it out of your pocket, holding it up to your ear as you drove out of the parking garage.
"Hello, this is Michael Donovan."
"There is a meeting tonight," Anatoly stated. You blinked at that. You didn't really expect another one so soon, but you suppose with everything getting in order, the Master probably wanted to give out orders.
"I'll be there in.." you trailed off as you checked the dashboard clock, "In about an hour."
"Understood."
With that, the phone clicked off. You then flicked your turn signal on and started heading towards the exit. You'd have to make a few maneuvers to get off properly, but otherwise, the drive was going to be fairly boring as normal.
You stepped inside the bar with the closed sign still hanging above the door. Nobody was around to watch you; most were likely home or doing something else just after work. You climbed the stairs up to the meeting room and settled on the floor. The others had arrived, and it looked like they were just waiting for you.
You felt your heart start to thump, and your breath seemed to fog in the air, despite neither really happening. The Master emerged from the hidden door, still just as young and small-looking and still just as heart-stoppingly terrifying.
"Anatoly, you will ensure this place is ready for work and can store both bodies and prisoners," she stated, her voice scraping against your mind. A small part of you flinched at the matter-of-factness, but you were part of a cult; cults weren't all that nice.
"Ai, the important people need to listen to us. Ensure that criminals and the constabulary alike have reason to obey us," she continued, marching forward.
"Jane, recruit people. The poor and the desperate will be your first choice," the Master's voice hesitated a moment before she said Jane. Did she know Jane's real name, or did she not like false names?
Despite knowing her for over a year, you knew little about the Master. She was young in body, relentless, and had a desire to destroy or unmake things, as she called it. You returned your focus as she started to speak again.
"Arch, gather books and information. You will ensure everybody can be taught."
Arch nodded at that but, for once, kept his mouth shut. The Master's terrifying presence was useful in that he seemed to understand for once when not to poke and prod, despite his clear urge to.
"Michael," she said, turning her gaze to you. You held firm but shuddered slightly.
"Train the fodder and search for information regarding the Endbringers. We will be unmaking them and that will require great effort."
With that, she turned on her heel and departed, the nonexistent chill and tension fading as she left the room. However there was still a metallic tang in your mouth, a faint feeling of writhing in your gut.
You held back a sigh. You had driven an hour to get here, and all you got were orders to do things you were already planning on doing. Well, there was no use complaining about it; you had things to do and not enough time in the day.
It was time to get to work.
You Master spoke of conflict, of tension and unmaking. You've learned something about the world and the engine that move it. Gain 1 scrap of Edge lore
Edge lore has reached level 1
Vote by plan
Possible Actions: You have 4 Actions each month, more can be gained by spending less time at work.
You have 2 months until the cult reconvenes, it is expected you have accomplished at least one thing of note by then.
Current Funds: 100
Income: 100 Funds/Month
[] On work and the challenges it entails.
-[] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[] You'll cut a few corners here, leave a bit early (Gain an extra action, will not be noticed if not done often)
-[] You've got sick days, use them (Gain two extra actions, will be noticed by your direct superior, although the full extent is unknown.)
-[] Something has come up and you'll be out of the office for a week (Gain three extra actions, may be noticed by the Director although the response is not known)
-[] You can't even step foot in the office this month (Gain four extra actions, you will be called out on this)
[] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
-[] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[] Ask around, start seeing what folks know (Minor suspicion)
-[] Dig into the files, take a peek at confidential information (Major suspicion)
[] On furthering the cause.
-[] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
-[] Assist somebody else in their task
--[] Who? (Write in)
-[] Items and strange artifacts, go search for them. They could be useful
-[] You are the commander, but strong and stout men loyal to you alone would be useful
-[] You don't need fighters, you just need those who are willing to work for you
[] On learning the Lores.
-[] Search for books
--[] In the local libraries and bookstores
--[] Stranger and more hidden places
--[] Online, from places abroad (Will cost 10 Funds per book in shipping)
-[] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
--[] What lore? (Write in, she is willing to teach all Lores, except Heart, up to level two)
[] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
-[] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
-[] Climb higher, Glory awaits
[] On matters outside the cult.
-[] Spend time with somebody
--[] Who? (Write in)
-[] Get to know somebody
--[] Who? (Write in, somebody from work, a low level person inside the cult, a random joe on the street etc)
[] Something else? (Write in, must be approved by QM)
Last edited:
Another History: Turn 1 - Results, Part 1
[X] Plan: Hidden training.
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
--[X] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Moth
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
--[X] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Moth
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
There weren't that many people here. Your Cult was small, no more than a handful of people who could actually hold their own in a fight. But you were determined. You weren't just going to let them flounder in their weaknesses; you were going to mold them, shape them into something resembling fighters. However, it was going to take time and effort; you could easily tell that just by looking at them.
"Are you ready to learn?" you boomed, your voice filling the gym with a commanding presence. The group of unconditioned members nodded, their expressions ranging from nervous to vaguely determined. It wasn't much, but it was something to work with.
[Training the Fodder: Breakpoints 20/50/80]
[Roll: 36+17(Martial)+1(GRAIL) = 54]
"Drop down and give me five!" you roared, watching with satisfaction as they scrambled to the floor. The gym echoed with the sound of bodies hitting the ground and strained breaths as they began their pushups. Some could barely manage, their arms trembling under their own weight, gasping for air like fish out of water. You kept your expression neutral, though internally, you were already calculating who would need the most work.
This gym had been a lucky find, and you wouldn't waste the opportunity. You'd secured access to it for the sole purpose of turning these ragtag cultists into something more, something that could fight. You scanned the line as the men and women rose shakily to their feet after completing their meager five pushups.
One person in the back was slower than the others, but you held back from calling them out just yet. You couldn't afford to break them too soon. Not yet. Numbers were scarce, and you needed every warm body to stick around. You weren't quite sure how they were recruited, but scaring them away wasn't an option.
"Follow me!" you shouted, setting off at a slow, deliberate jog around the gym's inside. Laps were simple, basic, but effective. Stamina was the foundation of everything else, and if they couldn't handle a few laps, you'd know where to start. Their feet shuffled behind you, a clumsy rhythm of sneakers hitting the floor, but at least they were moving.
"Do you remember what we've been told?" you called out over your shoulder, your voice loud and booming, reverberating off the gym's walls. "Things end. Things are destroyed. And today, we're going to destroy your weakness!" Your words hit them like a jolt of electricity, and you could see some of them pick up the pace, spurred on by the promise of breaking free from their limitations. They were cultists, after all—people already primed to follow, to believe in something larger than themselves. You were simply directing that belief toward self-improvement. You'd let the others figure out the bigger goals, and your job here today was to get them somewhat in shape.
As you glanced back, you noticed the fat man trailing behind the rest, his face red and slick with sweat. He was already flagging, his steps slowing as doubt crept into his eyes. You could see it—the fear, the temptation to quit. This was where you had to act.
"You!" you shouted, pointing directly at him. "Speed up!" You watched him flinch, his feet stumbling as if your words had physically struck him. You could see he was on the verge of giving up, but you weren't going to let him. Not yet. You jogged back toward him, slowing your pace until you ran alongside him, close enough to catch the stink of his sweat and exhaustion. Beneath that, though, you sensed a spark. A tiny ember of potential, waiting to be fanned into something more.
"Do you want to just sit on your ass forever?" you demanded, your voice low but biting. He kept his eyes forward, but you could tell your words were sinking in. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his body was screaming for rest, but you weren't about to let him off the hook.
You leaned in closer, letting your voice drop to a cruel whisper. "Do you want to lay there like a tub of lard, wasting away while you slowly die? Is that what you want?"
His reaction was immediate—his face twisted in anger, his body stiffening as if bracing for a physical blow. Your words hit him like a hammer, jabbing at his insecurities. But instead of crumbling, he snarled. It was barely more than a wheeze, a croak of defiance, but it was there. The spark.
"No!" he rasped, the word guttural and full of raw emotion. It wasn't loud, but it was enough.
You allowed yourself the faintest hint of a smile, something just for him to see. He caught it, and you saw the flicker of hope ignite in his eyes. That tiny acknowledgment—no matter how small—pushed him to dig deeper. He picked up his pace, his legs pumping harder, sweat pouring down his face as he fought against his body's limits.
Good. You had him now. And you knew this was just the beginning. You'd have to do this with every single one of them, find their breaking points, push them past it by just a smidge, and then rebuild them stronger. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing worth doing ever was. At least now you could see a foundation taking shape—a weak one, but a start nonetheless.
You sped up again, catching up to the rest of the group, your voice sharp as you barked out more commands. "Move it, maggots! You think you'll improve by wandering around like a bunch of slugs?" This would take time and effort, but you were never one to shy away from that.
You have improved the Cult followers' combat skills. +1 on tests that require physical strength, and personal combat
You were a bit surprised that the bar was actually open today. You had assumed the place was just a front for the cults business, a perpetually closed bar due to the economic turmoil the United States was facing. Then again, a source of income was good, and hiding in plain sight was a valid strategy. Most of the crime here was loud and flashy to attract attention from the heroes. A small bar that was on the edge of failing wasn't something to notice.
Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The bar was mostly empty, save for a handful of patrons scattered about nursing drinks and lost in their own worlds. Their tired, hollow eyes suggested that they were here to drink and forget about the wider world for a time. This was not a place for the happy. You could also smell the faint aroma of stale smoke and spilled bears, the kind of aroma that clung to these sorts of places.
You hesitated at the entryway, your eyes turning to the bar counter. You weren't a heavy drinker, but a faint numbing of alcohol would likely be very useful when dealing with your Master. You could also take a few minutes to chat with Anatoly. He likely wouldn't say all that much, but a few words could go a long way.
So, you made your way to the bar and took a seat on the worn-out stool; the leather cracked and faded from years of use. You raised a hand, catching Anatoly's eye from across the bar, signaling him to come over. His expression was unreadable as always, that eternal stoic face that had probably seen too much to react to much of anything anymore.
"Morning," you said, your voice cutting through the low hum of the bar. "Something light, please."
Anatoly gave you a brief nod, his movements efficient as he filled a glass from one of the taps. The drink was foamy, a pale amber color swirling in the glass as he set it in front of you. You took a small sip, feeling the faint burn as it went down your throat, followed by a mild warmth settling in your chest. It was good—smooth, with just enough bite to let you know it was working, but light enough not to fog your mind too quickly.
That was the important part. You were here to talk to the Master, and a little fortification would help with the nerves, but getting drunk would be a mistake. So you took another sip as it traveled down your throat, warming your chest.
"How are things going?" you asked casually, glancing at Anatoly as he wiped down the counter, his hand moving in practiced, rhythmic motions. He paused for a moment as if considering how much to share. Then, he gave you a noncommittal shrug and wiggled his hand in a so-so motion.
"Same as always," he replied gruffly, his accent thick. "People drink, complain. Nothing new."
You nodded, not really expecting anything more than that. Small talk with Anatoly was always like this—minimal, to the point, but you could understand him easily. You took another sip of your drink, letting the warmth spread through you as you prepared for the conversation to come. Although that might not be the best word, it would be a lesson. You were going to sit at the feet of your Master and learn one of the nine Lores she had spoken about.
"Well, it's best I head up," you remarked to nobody in particular, but Anatoly reached out and stopped you as you went to pull out your wallet.
"On the house," he told you, and you weren't one to turn down free drinks as you put your wallet away.
"Thank you."
"Good luck," he replied as he returned to wiping down the counter while you started climbing the stairs past the employee's only door. The stairs creaked under your feet as you entered the area where your body shivered and your skin prickled with goosebumps, but you knew that if you checked the temperature, it wouldn't have dropped a single digit. This was just your body's reaction to the dominion of one who is great, one who could end you.
You entered the room, pushing open the door before closing it quietly behind you. Your footsteps were quiet on the wooden floor; despite its appearance, there wasn't a single creak from the seemingly old wood. Without anybody else in here, the silence was almost oppressive, seeming to bear down on you with an almost physical weight.
You ignore that, though, and take your place on the floor, crossing your legs as you breathe in deeply. Meeting the Master always required preparation, and while the alcohol downstairs had given you a bit of a kick start, it wasn't going to be enough. You focus on the rhythm of your breath, the in and out as you breathe. In and out. Steadying yourself. Centering yourself. The room feels cold, but not from any physical chill—something deeper, more unsettling.
"You've come for knowledge?" The voice that sliced through the silence is cold and harsh, sharp like a blade. It sent a jolt through you, making your heart race as your eyes slowly opened. The tone doesn't match your Master's youth; it never does. There's something wrong with the sound—too hard, too cruel. You steady your heart, forcing your breathing to remain calm and even.
You focus on her, looking her in the eyes. She is short, less than an inch taller than you, even while you are seated. Her physical body doesn't matter, though. Her presence is looming and fills the room with an almost malevolent cold that stings your throat as you breathe.
Her eyes are what you focus on; it's a mistake, but you had been raised to do that. They burn with a cold flame, not the sizzling warmth of a campfire but a cruel flickering fire that consumes everything it touches. You slowly move your gaze away, a motion that feels both relieving and painful, like part of you is happy to stop looking at that fire while another part fears taking your eyes off her.
You have spoken to her one-on-one before. Each time, you come away feeling raw, like you had stood on the edge of a precipice as howling winds scraped over your skin. However, you know that feeling, you've felt that feeling before, so you reply.
"Yes," you manage, your voice soft but firm, though your throat feels dry. "I wish to know more of Moth."
The reaction is instant, and it makes you flinch. There's a low sound from the Master, something primal and guttural. For a second, you think it's a growl, like some wild animal about to pounce. But no, it's worse. It's a laugh—a deep, dark chuckle that seems to crawl out from her throat and echo in the cold room. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, your skin prickling with goosebumps. She begins to pace, her small feet making no sound as she circles you, her eyes raking over your form, scrutinizing every inch of you.
"That is your first mistake," she says, her words carrying a weight that lands like a physical blow. It rings in your ears and reverberates in your mind. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep breathing, even as you feel the cold chill of fear creeping up the back of your neck. It's a normal fear that you tell yourself.
"You don't learn Moth," she continues, her voice lowering into something almost hostile, though still so high-pitched it should have sounded childish. It doesn't. There's nothing innocent about it. "You don't sit down and study it at a desk like a schoolchild. You live it. You let it consume you, let it wash over you and carry you in its wake, helpless and without resistance." Her pacing quickens, circling tighter around you, and though you don't dare turn your head to follow her movements, you feel her presence looming closer, especially when she passes behind you. Your whole body tenses, instincts screaming that she could tear out your throat in an instant if she wanted to.
"And instead," she continues, her voice dangerously soft, "you must listen."
She stops pacing. You can feel her presence directly behind you, even though she's out of sight. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but you keep still, barely holding back the urge to flinch. Then, suddenly, she barks, "Lie down!"
Your body reacts before your mind even processes the command. In an instant, you're flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Your pulse thunders in your ears, and it's all you can do to remain still, to not leap up and run. You feel fear, like a physical presence in the room, sitting heavy on your chest, but you do as she commands.
"Listen to me," she commands, her voice softer now, almost a whisper, but no less intense. "Do nothing but listen. Hear the house cry out. Feel its yearning, feel the want, let it take you away."
And then, the sounds begin. Inhuman sounds. Words, if they were even words, spill from her mouth, but they aren't meant for human ears. They twist and writhe, filling the space like a gust of wind tearing through the rafters above, as if the house itself is alive and crying out as winds course through its arteries and veins. The sound seems to move around you, pressing down on you from all sides. You feel the vibration in your bones, and your skin tingles with the overwhelming sensation of being pulled under, like you're sinking into something dark and bottomless.
A tear slips down your cheek without you realizing it. Your fingers twitch involuntarily, spasming as though they've been disconnected from your will. The urge to get up and flee rises in you like a wave, but it crashes uselessly against the iron grip of fear that holds you in place.
You're unsure how much time passes—it could be minutes, hours, or a lifetime. But eventually, the sounds fade, leaving behind only the ringing silence. Slowly, carefully, you push yourself back up into a sitting position, your body weak and shaky from the ordeal. You look around, and the room is empty. Your Master is gone, leaving behind nothing but the faint ringing echo of her presence and the lingering chill in the air.
You slowly rise back into a sitting position, breathing in and out as your heart rate slows and the hair on the back of your neck settles back down. Then you rise to your feet, a bit stranger and a bit more knowledge before you depart.
There are still things to do.
Your Master has spoken of chaos and the change it brings. You've listened to the sounds that wild yearning makes and learned something about the dark and fluttering aspect of Moth. Gain 1 scrap of Moth Lore
Moth lore has reached level 1
Another History: Turn 1 - Results, Part 2
[X] Plan: Hidden training.
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
--[X] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Moth
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
--[X] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
--[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Moth
-[X] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
--[X] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
Work. It was a busy thing that let this city keep on moving, and you'd certainly clocked in your hours for the day. Yet, just because you had been in meetings and plugged away at your computer didn't mean your day was over. There was still more to do; you wanted to take a peek at some of the Endbringer fights. If you were going to kill them, you had to understand them first. And so, you found yourself wandering down the hallways toward the storage area, where all the old tapes and other things that most people forgot about.
The storage room was tucked away and rarely visited. In fact, it was archaic in its methods of cataloging and storing data. Physical disks and tapes in a world that had long since moved on to digital files. But you didn't mind. You weren't the best with computers and the fancy new technology, there was also a tangibility to physical disks you liked. A weight of sorts that a digital file didn't have.
The musty smell of old paper and plastic greeted you as you entered the room. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting a dull yellow glow over the shelves. Turns out that in a place very few people visited, replacing lights wasn't the highest priority. Rows and rows of shelves greater you, each packed to the brim with boxes that held files and disks., They were labeled with notes following a system you had no doubt was confusing, but you had been here for some time. You knew the system well enough.
Your feet carried you down to the end of the aisle. Running your thumb over the notes, you find one of the earlier ones. In fact, this may have been the first Endbringer fights on record. As you removed the box, you coughed as dust emerged, but you waved your hand in front of your face as you pulled out the first disk. It was labeled August 12th this year. You frowned and set it aside before digging into the box. You managed to find the earliest one, 1992.
Slipping the tape into your suit jacket, you glanced around. You weren't doing anything wrong—technically. But it wasn't exactly typical for someone to be poking around in these archives, and you had no desire to explain yourself if someone caught you. So, with a nonchalant stride, you left the storage room, doing your best to look as though you hadn't been poking around back there.
However, nobody paid you any mind, so you returned to your office, ensuring your door was firmly closed as you sat down at your desk. The soundproofing here was pretty good, so you weren't worried about the noise causing any problems. Sliding the disk out, you gently pushed it into your computer. Thankfully, you had thought to ensure everything else was ready before you went, so you grabbed this so you could just turn on the video and start watching.
[Picking up clues: Breakpoints 40/80/120]
[Roll: 40+8(Learning)+1(LANTERN) = 49]
The screen flickered to life, and soon the grainy footage began to play. It was chaos. The fight was a mess of screams, explosions, and destruction, the camera barely capturing any of it in a coherent way. Bodies scattered like leaves in a storm, smoke clouding the screen. It was hard to watch, not just because of the poor quality but because of the sheer devastation unfolding before your eyes. You had been in fights before, even if you hadn't necessarily killed anybody. This massacre was unlike anything you had seen, and it made you faintly sick.
Still, you kept your focus, your sharp eyes scanning the footage for anything useful. It wasn't until a few minutes in that something caught your attention. Behemoth. It was getting hit hard. Alexandria delivered a punch, a blow that would've caused buildings to crumble. The camera barely caught it, but you could tell it was powerful.
But something was off.
You rewound the tape, watching that specific moment again. Alexandria's punch landed—Behemoth recoiled, but only just. For a blow of that magnitude, he should have stumbled or faltered, but instead, he merely stepped back. You frowned, your fingers pausing the video as you leaned in closer.
Rewinding further, you began looking for another impact. Someone else had gotten in close, another heavy hitter. You found the moment—a man walking through fire, his body regenerating even as it was scorched by Behemoth's kill aura. He wasn't as invincible as Alexandria, but his regeneration was impressive, allowing him to keep moving forward, even as his skin melted off his bones.
He landed a punch. The camera didn't capture much, but it was clear that it was weaker than Alexandria's blow. And yet, Behemoth flinched more. His foot moved, his body jerked back, almost as if the strike had actually affected him. You played it back again, slower this time, watching closely as the impact played out. You just couldn't see why.
Why had Behemoth reacted more to a weaker blow? Your mind raced. There was something here—something about powers or perhaps a hidden vulnerability. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but you knew this was important. Scribbling on a scrap of paper, you marked this anomaly down for future reference.
Behemoth's control over energy wasn't as perfect as it seemed, or perhaps there was more to the way he responded to attacks. Either way, you had a lead. It wasn't much, but it was a start. You could piece it together later, but for now, it was time to head home. The day had dragged on, and you still had to return the tape before anyone noticed it was missing.
[Covering your tracks: CD 40]
[Roll: 26+8(Piety)+5(MOTH) = 39]
The records room is just as deserted as it was when you picked up the disk, so it's a matter of a minute to slide it back into place. You then turned on your heel and left the room. Your briefcase was in your hand, and it looked like you were just heading out; a normal contractor was about to leave.
That's when you bumped into somebody who just turned the corner. They stumbled back, shaking their head as you took a single step back, more to prevent them from harming themself than any real force from him.
"Apologies," the man said as he adjusted his glasses. I wasn't looking where I was going," he continued before reaching out to shake his hand. You reached out as well, giving him a firm shake.
"Strong grip?" he asked as he massaged his hand. "Anyway, sorry for that, and have a good day," he said as he nodded his head and headed towards the records room. You frowned ever so slightly but kept walking. There was not much you could do, so you headed outside towards your car, ready to head home.
This had been a long day, and while you were going to do the same tomorrow, that didn't mean you wanted to spend more time here than you had to. You were looking forward to dinner.
Scissors do not seem like a threatening tool; they are used to cut hair, trim bears, and ensure things are well kept. Yet now you know a bit more. You know that they can be used to invoke a subtle magic of their own, a strange magic that flutters but magic nonetheless.
You lay back in your bed, scissors held to your chest as you close your eyes. You were going to visit the Woods tonight. You have only been there once, and despite the tall trees of birch and spilling black crystals, you knew that there was knowledge there you couldn't attain here.
So you raised the twin blades to the side of your head and, with a soft snip, cut a lock free. It didn't feel any different than what you normally did; just a soft noise and a few scraps of your past self were gone. You ignored those musings and headed to bed, with sleep taking you quickly.
The Woods arrive quicker than you thought.
You look around, taking in the tall birch trees that seem to arch towards moonlight and the twisting spires of black crystal. You hesitate, unsure of which direction to go in. The first time you had accessed the Woods, you had been with another, and now you weren't.
You decide to head deeper, away from that brilliant glow of Glory's light. It almost pains you to do so, but you are searching the Woods for knowledge, so you turn your back and start walking. The muck under your feet and the moonlight that shines down is discomforting but you keep moving.
You then stop. You hear movement in the distance and through the trees. You crouch and start to move closer. You hadn't seen a living thing here when you were here last. Was it another member of your cult or something else? You kept creeping closer until you stopped behind a tree and peered out.
It was a corpse, about thirty, as it stood still, looking up past the treetops and towards the moon. No, you amended after a second; it was looking towards Glory. That was understandable; that brilliant light was beautiful, but something about the way its skin seemed to twitch and writhe unnerved you.
You then saw it shift; it started moving, and you saw something in its stomach that was torn open. Dozens of writhing worms sat in its gut, and now that you knew where to look, you could tell that more of them were crawling around inside the corpse.
You did not want to touch that, so you kept low and waited for it to leave.
[Hiding from something: CD 30]
[Roll: 10+8(Intrigue)+5(MOTH) = 23]
You weren't sure how long you stayed there, but eventually, it started to shuffle off following whatever reason it did. You sighed and leaned back against one of the black crystals that had claimed one of the birch trees.
That was when your foot slipped.
There was a loud scrape as crystals were moved across each other, and your eyes snapped up toward the infested corpse. Its head had snapped over to you, and it was moving, not incredibly fast, but fast enough you'd have to fight.
[Infested Dead has initiated combat]
[Michael Donovan's current health: 4/4]
[Infested Dead current health: 1/1]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 0, Infested Dead – 0]
[Michael: 42+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 79]
[Infested Dead: 57+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 72]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 7, Infested Dead – 0]
[Michael: 27+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 67]
[Infested Dead: 83+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 98]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 7, Infested Dead – 34]
[Neither combatant wishes to perform any actions]
[Combat will continue as normal]
[Infested Dead current health: 1/1]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 0, Infested Dead – 0]
[Michael: 42+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 79]
[Infested Dead: 57+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 72]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 7, Infested Dead – 0]
[Michael: 27+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 67]
[Infested Dead: 83+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 98]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 7, Infested Dead – 34]
[Neither combatant wishes to perform any actions]
[Combat will continue as normal]
You shot up to your feet and held out your hands. Your Master had spoken of conflict, of the endless burning and churning that it invoked. You used that knowledge as you swung, slamming a fist into its chest and breaking a bone. However, it didn't care as it lunged at you, its mouth locking around your wrist.
However, it didn't bite down, and you could see the writhing worms inside of its head were slowly moving down. You wrenched your arm back, slamming your elbow into the black crystals behind you and swearing. You then kept moving, trying to get away and get some space from this thing.
It was slow, sloppy, and fragile. A single good hit would put it down, but you did not want those worms to touch you. Something about them felt wrong, foreign to the Woods around you, and you didn't want them trying to dig inside of you.
It then lurched forward once again, heedless of the collarbone you had damaged.
[Michael Donovan's current health: 4/4]
[Infested Dead current health: 1/1]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 7, Infested Dead – 34]
[Michael: 35+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 72]
[Infested Dead: 40+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 55]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 24, Infested Dead – 34]
[Michael: 28+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 65]
[Infested Dead: 83+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 98]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 24, Infested Dead – 67]
[Michael suffers one wound (-50 to Infested Dead's overflow)]
[Michael attempts to escape…]
[Infested Dead successfully intercepts]
[Infested Dead current health: 1/1]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 7, Infested Dead – 34]
[Michael: 35+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 72]
[Infested Dead: 40+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 55]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 24, Infested Dead – 34]
[Michael: 28+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 65]
[Infested Dead: 83+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 98]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 24, Infested Dead – 67]
[Michael suffers one wound (-50 to Infested Dead's overflow)]
[Michael attempts to escape…]
[Infested Dead successfully intercepts]
You ducked under the lung and hammered your fist into its gut, punching right through its body. You then wrenched out your arm, feeling whatever black slime counted for blood in this thing's body drop off your arm. When it kept moving, you snarled and raised your hands, ready to continue fighting.
It clawed at you, and you danced back, keeping outside its range before darting in for a one-two combo. However, it also moved, and instead of your fist breaking ribs, it slammed directly into the spine, causing your fingers to jam. You hissed as it used that chance to bite deeply into your shoulder, drawing blood.
You grabbed its head and shoved it off you as you stumbled back. Your crimson lifeblood dripped from your shoulder and hit the ground. Your heart pounded, and you could feel something heady rising in your chest.
You ignored it as you turned to book it. You knew when to fold them, and this thing didn't seem all that killable. It would be best to leave it and find a place to wake up. You'd be able to figure things out in the morning.
Unfortunately, you weren't quite that lucky, as when you turned your head to see how far away it was from you, your foot slipped in the muck. You were much faster than this thing, but pure raw chance screwed you over as it lunged at you again, trying to tear out your throat for what must be the third time.
[Michael Donovan's current health: 3/4]
[Infested Dead current health: 1/1]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 7, Infested Dead – 17]
[Michael: 87+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 124]
[Infested Dead: 33+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 48]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 100, Infested Dead – 17]
[Infested Dead suffers two wounds (-100 to Michael's overflow)]
[Infested Dead current health: 1/1]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 7, Infested Dead – 17]
[Michael: 87+37(Total Combat Bonus) = 124]
[Infested Dead: 33+15(Total Combat Bonus) = 48]
[Current overflow (damage occurs on 50): Michael – 100, Infested Dead – 17]
[Infested Dead suffers two wounds (-100 to Michael's overflow)]
This time, you spun, and despite your shoulder creaking in pain, you grabbed its head. Then you slammed it into one of the nearest trees. You felt its head splinter and crumble in your grip, but you raised it again and slammed its head back down. It cracked like an egg, with brain matter spraying across the tree like yolk.
You then stumbled back as the corpse collapsed, the silvery worms inside of it writhing as if screaming now that their host was dead. You were not going to stay around as they started to move and flee the corpse. You were not in the mood to be infested.
When you awoke later, you bandaged your wounds and kept any scissors far away from your head. You'd have to ask just what was that later; right now, you were going back to bed and getting some real, proper sleep.
You have fought and slain something beyond normal mortality. You understand just a little bit more about that motion and burning that propels people towards conflict.. Gain 1 scrap of Edge lore.
You have spilled your lifeblood onto the floor of the Woods and felt your heart thump in your chest. You understand just a bit more about the dance and beat that encompass the entire world. Gain 1 scrap of Heart lore.
Heart lore is now level 1
Last edited:
Another History: Turn 2
A suit and tie, normality against the world. Weapons and armor that don't actually defend you, yet your bandages go unnoticed under them. You've been given a few looks, but you are a hearty man, and it wasn't a bad wound.
"Do you need help?" Charlotte asked, and you huffed. She had been the main exception. You knew that she wasn't trying to be infantilizing or annoying, but there was a part of her that saw that you had been wounded and would accept that no matter your talk of being fine.
"No, I've told you that," you replied, trying to keep your anger out of your voice but failing as some slipped in anyway. She stared back, unflinching, and you sighed as you pressed the start-up button on your computer. Your arm was just lightly wounded. You'd heal in a month or so, and you had felt worse before.
However, as you started working, with Charlotte still hovering over you annoyingly, your phone rang. You frowned, and when you pulled out your phone and saw the caller was labeled Barkeep, you gestured for Charlotte to leave. She narrowed her eyes but followed your orders. You then flipped your phone open and picked it up.
"Hello, what's the problem?" you asked. Anatoly would never call you unless he needed help and in a manner that you could provide.
"An investigation has been opened into the bar," he told you curtly, his accent thicker than normal. Your lips tugged down at that; you had no clue just why the police would start poking around the bar, but if they stormed the Master's den, that would be distance for everybody. The PRT would start asking why the hell an entire prescient got massacred, and your Master would be very pissed.
"Why are the police looking into the matter?" you asked, pressing for further details.
"Not police, PRT."
"Shit!" you swore under your breath as your hand tightened around your phone, causing it to creak. You immediately relaxed your grip as you breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, calming yourself.
"Do you know why the PRT are looking into you?" you hissed at him, your emotions were buried under cold, but that didn't mean you weren't confused and concerned about how the hell he could have gotten them on his ass.
"They claimed it was a simple check, something about possible financial crimes," he replied, and you leaned back, rubbing your forehead. You spot Charlotte peeking in through the window on the sides of the door. You wave her away as you think of a response; once again, you are thankful for the thick walls.
"Right, that's a problem. They wouldn't be poking around for simple financial crimes. Do you have anybody on your end?"
"Ai, she's offered to help. She also suggested calling you, said you could pull a few strings."
You weren't sure how she knew about your job. You hadn't told them, but you made a mental note to maybe take a look at that as you fiddled with your computer for a few moments. You could take over the case. It'd be a bit finicky to get them to drop the investigations, but at the very least, if it became something bigger, you'd be able to steer it around.
"I'll figure something out; if I can't get in charge, I'll let you know," you tell him, and when he grunts back in affirmation, you hang up the phone. Rubbing your forehead, you sigh; this was a clusterfuck, and you didn't want the PRT anywhere near the Master.
"Is everything okay?" Charlotte asked as she stepped inside the office. Your mind spun as you rose your head and let lies spill from your lips.
"Everything's fine, just a few issues."
She looked at you for a moment before nodding, "Alright, let me know if you need any help."
That caused you to chuckle lightly, "I will, I will," you told her, lying as you returned to your work.
This month was going to be a busy one.
Vote by plan
Possible Actions: You have 4 Actions each month, more can be gained by spending less time at work.
You have 1 month until the cult reconvenes, it is expected you have accomplished at least one thing of note by then.
Current Funds: 200
Income: 100 Funds/Month
[] You are injured (You currently have one wound. You'll make a roll at +5 against a DC of 70 You must select one of the below)
-[] Rest and recover (Cost zero actions, roll one recovery dice)
-[] Take a break here and there (Costs one action, roll two recovery dice. 0/-15)
-[] Sit down, take time to care for yourself (Costs two actions, roll three recovery dice 0/-15/-30)
-[] You're near death, you have to slow down (Costs three actions, roll four recovery dice 0/-15/-30/-45)
-[] Even breathing hurts, you'll just use your mind (Costs three actions, roll four recovery dice 0/-15/-30/-45/-60)
–-[] Your body will heal on its own terms (Costs nothing)
–-[] The medicine is dark black, it's easy to think you've been poisoned (Costs 30 Funds, one recovery dice will automatically succeed)
–-[] A touch here and there of something a bit stronger (Costs 60 Funds, two recovery dice will automatically succeed)
–-[] A stay at home nurse, to tend to your wounds and the more unpleasant tasks they require (Costs 90 Funds, three recovery dice will automatically succeed)
–-[] His services don't come cheap and his silence is even more expensive (Costs 120 Funds, four recovery dice will automatically succeed)
–-[] Potions may sound like fantasy, but this kind of healing comes with power (Costs 150 Funds, five recovery dice will automatically succeed)
[] On work and the challenges it entails.
-[] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[] You'll cut a few corners here, leave a bit early (Gain an extra action, will not be noticed if not done often)
-[] You've got sick days, use them (Gain two extra actions, will be noticed by your direct superior, although the full extent is unknown.)
-[] Something has come up and you'll be out of the office for a week (Gain three extra actions, may be noticed by the Director although the response is not known)
-[] You can't even step foot in the office this month (Gain four extra actions, you will be called out on this)
[] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
-[] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[] Ask around, start seeing what folks know (Minor suspicion)
-[] Dig into the files, take a peek at confidential information (Major suspicion)
[] On furthering the cause.
-[] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
-[] Assist somebody else in their task
--[] Who? (Write in)
-[] Items and strange artifacts, go search for them. They could be useful
-[] You are the commander, but strong and stout men loyal to you alone would be useful
-[] You don't need fighters, you just need those who are willing to work for you
[] On learning the Lores.
-[] Search for books
--[] In the local libraries and bookstores
--[] Stranger and more hidden places
--[] Online, from places abroad (Will cost 10 Funds per book in shipping)
-[] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
--[] What lore? (Write in, she is willing to teach all Lores, except Heart, up to level two)
-[] The cult's library has a few texts, go read up on them
—[] The manuscript on Knock (You will gain 1 scrap of Knock)
[] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
-[] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
-[] Climb higher, Glory awaits
[] On matters outside the cult.
-[] Spend time with somebody
--[] Who? (Write in)
-[] Get to know somebody
--[] Who? (Write in, somebody from work, a low level person inside the cult, a random joe on the street etc)
[] A fleeting opportunity (rumor mills spin, opportunities come and go. These actions will never be available again)
-[] Take over the Anatoly case, make sure nothing comes up
--[] Allow Ai to help you, it'll make this easier
[] Something else? (Write in, must be approved by QM)
Once again thank you to BirdBodhisattva for which I have borrowed the healing mechanics from. And go read their quest, it's amazing!
"Do you need help?" Charlotte asked, and you huffed. She had been the main exception. You knew that she wasn't trying to be infantilizing or annoying, but there was a part of her that saw that you had been wounded and would accept that no matter your talk of being fine.
"No, I've told you that," you replied, trying to keep your anger out of your voice but failing as some slipped in anyway. She stared back, unflinching, and you sighed as you pressed the start-up button on your computer. Your arm was just lightly wounded. You'd heal in a month or so, and you had felt worse before.
However, as you started working, with Charlotte still hovering over you annoyingly, your phone rang. You frowned, and when you pulled out your phone and saw the caller was labeled Barkeep, you gestured for Charlotte to leave. She narrowed her eyes but followed your orders. You then flipped your phone open and picked it up.
"Hello, what's the problem?" you asked. Anatoly would never call you unless he needed help and in a manner that you could provide.
"An investigation has been opened into the bar," he told you curtly, his accent thicker than normal. Your lips tugged down at that; you had no clue just why the police would start poking around the bar, but if they stormed the Master's den, that would be distance for everybody. The PRT would start asking why the hell an entire prescient got massacred, and your Master would be very pissed.
"Why are the police looking into the matter?" you asked, pressing for further details.
"Not police, PRT."
"Shit!" you swore under your breath as your hand tightened around your phone, causing it to creak. You immediately relaxed your grip as you breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, calming yourself.
"Do you know why the PRT are looking into you?" you hissed at him, your emotions were buried under cold, but that didn't mean you weren't confused and concerned about how the hell he could have gotten them on his ass.
"They claimed it was a simple check, something about possible financial crimes," he replied, and you leaned back, rubbing your forehead. You spot Charlotte peeking in through the window on the sides of the door. You wave her away as you think of a response; once again, you are thankful for the thick walls.
"Right, that's a problem. They wouldn't be poking around for simple financial crimes. Do you have anybody on your end?"
"Ai, she's offered to help. She also suggested calling you, said you could pull a few strings."
You weren't sure how she knew about your job. You hadn't told them, but you made a mental note to maybe take a look at that as you fiddled with your computer for a few moments. You could take over the case. It'd be a bit finicky to get them to drop the investigations, but at the very least, if it became something bigger, you'd be able to steer it around.
"I'll figure something out; if I can't get in charge, I'll let you know," you tell him, and when he grunts back in affirmation, you hang up the phone. Rubbing your forehead, you sigh; this was a clusterfuck, and you didn't want the PRT anywhere near the Master.
"Is everything okay?" Charlotte asked as she stepped inside the office. Your mind spun as you rose your head and let lies spill from your lips.
"Everything's fine, just a few issues."
She looked at you for a moment before nodding, "Alright, let me know if you need any help."
That caused you to chuckle lightly, "I will, I will," you told her, lying as you returned to your work.
This month was going to be a busy one.
Vote by plan
Possible Actions: You have 4 Actions each month, more can be gained by spending less time at work.
You have 1 month until the cult reconvenes, it is expected you have accomplished at least one thing of note by then.
Current Funds: 200
Income: 100 Funds/Month
[] You are injured (You currently have one wound. You'll make a roll at +5 against a DC of 70 You must select one of the below)
-[] Rest and recover (Cost zero actions, roll one recovery dice)
-[] Take a break here and there (Costs one action, roll two recovery dice. 0/-15)
-[] Sit down, take time to care for yourself (Costs two actions, roll three recovery dice 0/-15/-30)
-[] You're near death, you have to slow down (Costs three actions, roll four recovery dice 0/-15/-30/-45)
-[] Even breathing hurts, you'll just use your mind (Costs three actions, roll four recovery dice 0/-15/-30/-45/-60)
–-[] Your body will heal on its own terms (Costs nothing)
–-[] The medicine is dark black, it's easy to think you've been poisoned (Costs 30 Funds, one recovery dice will automatically succeed)
–-[] A touch here and there of something a bit stronger (Costs 60 Funds, two recovery dice will automatically succeed)
–-[] A stay at home nurse, to tend to your wounds and the more unpleasant tasks they require (Costs 90 Funds, three recovery dice will automatically succeed)
–-[] His services don't come cheap and his silence is even more expensive (Costs 120 Funds, four recovery dice will automatically succeed)
–-[] Potions may sound like fantasy, but this kind of healing comes with power (Costs 150 Funds, five recovery dice will automatically succeed)
[] On work and the challenges it entails.
-[] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[] You'll cut a few corners here, leave a bit early (Gain an extra action, will not be noticed if not done often)
-[] You've got sick days, use them (Gain two extra actions, will be noticed by your direct superior, although the full extent is unknown.)
-[] Something has come up and you'll be out of the office for a week (Gain three extra actions, may be noticed by the Director although the response is not known)
-[] You can't even step foot in the office this month (Gain four extra actions, you will be called out on this)
[] On the goal. (All of the following options are suspicious. This only applies if you are caught)
-[] Do some research, watch some tapes of the fighting (Minor suspicion)
-[] Ask around, start seeing what folks know (Minor suspicion)
-[] Dig into the files, take a peek at confidential information (Major suspicion)
[] On furthering the cause.
-[] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
-[] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
-[] Assist somebody else in their task
--[] Who? (Write in)
-[] Items and strange artifacts, go search for them. They could be useful
-[] You are the commander, but strong and stout men loyal to you alone would be useful
-[] You don't need fighters, you just need those who are willing to work for you
[] On learning the Lores.
-[] Search for books
--[] In the local libraries and bookstores
--[] Stranger and more hidden places
--[] Online, from places abroad (Will cost 10 Funds per book in shipping)
-[] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
--[] What lore? (Write in, she is willing to teach all Lores, except Heart, up to level two)
-[] The cult's library has a few texts, go read up on them
—[] The manuscript on Knock (You will gain 1 scrap of Knock)
[] The Mansus, a place of contradictions. It calls to you, reach out.
-[] Explore the Woods and it's many secrets
-[] Climb higher, Glory awaits
[] On matters outside the cult.
-[] Spend time with somebody
--[] Who? (Write in)
-[] Get to know somebody
--[] Who? (Write in, somebody from work, a low level person inside the cult, a random joe on the street etc)
[] A fleeting opportunity (rumor mills spin, opportunities come and go. These actions will never be available again)
-[] Take over the Anatoly case, make sure nothing comes up
--[] Allow Ai to help you, it'll make this easier
[] Something else? (Write in, must be approved by QM)
Once again thank you to BirdBodhisattva for which I have borrowed the healing mechanics from. And go read their quest, it's amazing!
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Another History: Turn 2 - Results, Part 1
[x] Plan: Nothing to see here and working on goals
-[X] You are injured (You currently have one wound. You'll make a roll at +5 against a DC of 70 You must select one of the below)
--[X] Rest and recover (Cost zero actions, roll one recovery dice)
---[X] The medicine is dark black, it's easy to think you've been poisoned (Costs 30 Funds, one recovery dice will automatically succeed)
-[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 the goal.
--[X] Ask around, start seeing what folks know
-[x] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
-[X] On learning the Lores
--[X] Search for books
---[X] In the local libraries and bookstores
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Grail
-[X] A fleeting opportunity
--[X] Take over the Anatoly case, make sure nothing comes up
---[X] Allow Ai to help you, it'll make this easier
-[X] You are injured (You currently have one wound. You'll make a roll at +5 against a DC of 70 You must select one of the below)
--[X] Rest and recover (Cost zero actions, roll one recovery dice)
---[X] The medicine is dark black, it's easy to think you've been poisoned (Costs 30 Funds, one recovery dice will automatically succeed)
-[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 the goal.
--[X] Ask around, start seeing what folks know
-[x] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
-[X] On learning the Lores
--[X] Search for books
---[X] In the local libraries and bookstores
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Grail
-[X] A fleeting opportunity
--[X] Take over the Anatoly case, make sure nothing comes up
---[X] Allow Ai to help you, it'll make this easier
"Well, you should be fine. You're up to date on your rabies shot, right?" The doctor's voice was casual as he prodded gently at the wound. You'd already cleaned and stitched it yourself, but a doctor's note was necessary if you wanted the proper medication. After all, you'd endured enough of the cheap, ineffective medicine in your past to know better than to risk it again. Not when you had a steady income that allowed you to afford proper care now.
"Yes, I am," you replied calmly, though you noticed the doctor's frown deepening as he examined your hastily bandaged wound. He had been scrutinizing it like that for longer than you liked, and you had a sinking suspicion he was about to ask questions you weren't keen on answering.
"Are you sure a dog did this? I'm not seeing—"
"How much for the appointment?" you interrupted swiftly, tightening the bandages around the bite with practiced precision. Your fingers worked quickly, tying them off before the doctor could take a closer look. He paused for a moment, but you could tell he understood that you weren't in the mood for an interrogation. That was one of the reasons you came to this clinic in the first place: discretion.
He cleared his throat, turning back toward the small counter. "Well then, here's the medicine." He handed you a small bottle, his tone professional again. "Take a spoonful every morning and evening. It should last you the month. If the wound starts hurting more, come back, and I'll give you something stronger."
You took the bottle, slipping it into the pocket of your pants without comment. "Thank you," you said as you pulled out your wallet, thumbing through the bills. Once you found the right amount, you handed it over.
"Have a good day," he said, almost cheerfully, as you headed for the door. "If you need anything else, I'm always open."
You didn't respond. Instead, you ducked down into your car, the low ceiling forcing you to contort slightly as you shoved yourself inside. Once settled, you jammed the keys into the ignition and sped off without looking back. You slowed down a bit, old instincts being jammed down
Today was supposed to be your day off, but there was no time for rest. You had other things to deal with. Namely, tracking down some books around town. You needed a new source of information, something you could rely on other than begging the Master for whatever scraps she knew. And knowledge, as always, was power.
You weren't the most well-read man by any stretch. Sure, you could read just fine—it was a necessary skill in your line of work. But most of your reading had been confined to pamphlets, orders handed down from on high. Not the kind of esoteric texts you were starting to seek out now. Still, you had to improve, had to gain new knowledge and so you were stepping outside of your box slightly.
Your soul burned whenever you gazed up at the sun, comparing it to Glory and finding it wanting. Even thinking about it now, your heart quickened. The itch of desire crawled beneath your skin. You needed to climb, to rise higher. Even setting aside your cult's ultimate goal, you had glimpsed Glory once and knew—deep in your bones—that even if you were set free tomorrow, you would still be climbing. You couldn't stop, not after what you'd seen. Glory called to you, beckoning you forward, ever forward.
Shaking your head to clear the intoxicating thoughts, you strode into the small bookstore you had stumbled across in the quieter part of town. It had a cozy, almost quaint atmosphere, the kind of place that might not look like much from the outside, but you hoped there were hidden gems waiting inside. There had to be. The knowledge you were after wasn't the kind of thing you'd find in mainstream places. No, the government—and other, more secretive organizations—had good reason to suppress true occult knowledge. Anything widely accessible was bound to be sanitized, neutered of any real power. It was just a further expansion of the seizing of arms and armor; of course occult power would be suppressed.
The woman at the front desk caught your eye as you entered. She was a little portly, middle-aged, and seemed wholly engrossed in a thick book. She barely registered your presence until you spoke.
"Do you do returns?" you asked, half-expecting her to say no. It wasn't like you were planning on giving anything back, but it was always good to know your options.
She placed a bookmark in her novel before looking up at you, her expression polite but indifferent. "No, I'm afraid not," she said with a small shake of her head. Her tone was firm but not unkind.
You nodded, unsurprised. It wasn't a big deal. Any books you didn't need would likely end up in Arch's hands anyway, or even if you needed them. You weren't the most knowledgeable, but either way, there wouldn't be any need for a return policy.
Heading deeper into the store, you got to work, thumbing through books cast in a warm amber glow from the overhead lights as you searched for anything of interest, sorting the wheat from the chaff.
[Searching for books in Houston: Breakpoints 20/40/60/80...]
[Roll: 45+8(Learning)+1(SECRET HISTORIES) = 54]
A well-worn pamphlet about a hidden regiment during World War 2 - Secret Histories Level 1. Costs 7 Funds
A book on breathing and how to withstand cold weather - Heart Level 1. Costs 7 Funds
A cookbook with a strangely large section of repairing tools - Forge Level 1. Costs 7 Funds
You arrived at the bar once again, ready to learn at the feet of your Master. You know the proper investigation into his business has not begun, so you walked inside. You'd be taking command officially soon, but right now, you had other business here. The dim light filtering through the windows cast long shadows as you pushed open the door. Anatoly wasn't at the counter, and there was only a single patron inside, nursing a drink in the far corner. You took note of that, filing it away as you made your way toward the stairs, the floorboards creaking faintly under your feet.
As you ascended, the hair on the back of your neck began to rise, that primal, animal part of your brain warning you to flee. Your body, instinctively sensing danger, screamed at you to turn back, to run from what waited above—a presence that radiated nothing but anger and agony, a being who hated your mere existence.
Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the door at the top of the stairs, slowly pushing it open. The room beyond was cold, the air biting at your skin even though the temperature hadn't dropped. You knew this was how it always felt, the biting cold despite not a single drop in temperature. That didn't mean you had grown numb to it.
"Anatoly?" a sharp and biting voice called out, like shards of ice. It cut through you, sending a shiver down your spine despite the fact that your body temperature remained steady. The coldness wasn't physical—it was something deeper. It threatened to blossom inside your soul and drive you to agony. She held back, though. She didn't quite want that yet.
"No, it's Michael," you replied, trying your level best to keep your voice steady.
She sat in the middle of the room, her figure silhouetted against the faint light filtering through the windows. In front of her, something writhed—a shape, indistinct and unsettling, that seemed to pulse and flicker before your eyes. You barely caught a glimpse of it before it vanished, but the memory of it lingered in your mind, twisting your gut in discomfort. Your heart raced, but there was a faint lessening of the hatred and agony that had filled the room. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough that you could breathe a little easier.
"What do you want?" she growled, her voice low and dangerous as she pushed herself up from her knees. She turned to face you, and you kept your eyes trained carefully on her nose, avoiding the burning intensity of her gaze. You knew better than to meet her eyes. Not directly.
"I want to know more. I want you to teach me about Grail," you said, your body tensed as she looked up at you. Her eyes bore into you—two burning orbs of intensity that seemed to pierce straight through you. Your body trembled, the cold flame of her attention wrapping around you like tendrils of ice, squeezing tighter with each passing second.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, it ended. She turned away, padding silently toward the window on bare feet, her figure casting a long shadow across the floor. You exhaled sharply, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to regain your composure. The tension in your body slowly eased ever so slightly.
"Very well," she said, her voice softer now but no less grating. She raised a hand, and you noticed a single drop of blood glistening on her fingertip. It seemed to shimmer in the faint light, crimson and thick.
"Drink it," she said, holding her hand out to you. "And learn of desire."
You hesitated as you reached out; you weren't sure if it was her blood, and frankly, you didn't want to touch anything related to her, but you did so. Her skin was cold, like that of the dead and felt uncomfortable to the touch. You quickly retracted your hand, the crimson blood seeming to quiver in your grasp. It was just a trick of the light, right?
Without allowing yourself the chance to reconsider, you tossed your head back and swallowed it.
The moment the blood touched your tongue, your entire body went rigid, as though struck by a bolt of lightning. But it wasn't lightning—not exactly. It was something deeper, something more primal. A formless, red energy surged through you, filling every corner of your being. It wasn't pain. It wasn't a pleasure. It was something beyond both, a raw, burning desire that ignited in your chest and spread through your veins like wildfire.
Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing like a drum in your ears as the desire consumed you. It wasn't just a want—it was a need, a craving so intense it hurt. You dropped to your knees, gasping for air as the full weight of it hit you. It was agonizing, that empty, hollow feeling, the realization of just how dull your life had been before this moment. You wanted more. You needed more. That drop of blood had awakened something in you, and now you would do anything for it. For that ambrosia.
When you finally came to, your Master was gone. The room was empty, save for the faint scent of her lingering presence. You were drenched in sweat, your body trembling with the aftershocks of what had just happened. But the feeling hadn't left. It was still there, deep in your chest—a gnawing hunger, an emptiness that you knew would never be fully satisfied. Not anymore.
You would always desire, you would always seek out a nice steak, a more fine wine, or something better. It was a change, however minor in your very self that you had gained from this.
You sighed as you rose to your feet, you'd be heading downstairs and getting drunk. That's really all you wanted right now.
Your Master has given you craving, a deep desire, you can still feel that empty hole in your chest. You know that no matter what, you will always hunger, at least slightly. You have gained 1 Scrap of Grail Lore
Grail lore is now level 1
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Another History: Turn 2 - Results, Part 2
[x] Plan: Nothing to see here and working on goals
-[X] You are injured (You currently have one wound. You'll make a roll at +5 against a DC of 70 You must select one of the below)
--[X] Rest and recover (Cost zero actions, roll one recovery dice)
---[X] The medicine is dark black, it's easy to think you've been poisoned (Costs 30 Funds, one recovery dice will automatically succeed)
-[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 the goal.
--[X] Ask around, start seeing what folks know
-[x] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
-[X] On learning the Lores
--[X] Search for books
---[X] In the local libraries and bookstores
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Grail
-[X] A fleeting opportunity
--[X] Take over the Anatoly case, make sure nothing comes up
---[X] Allow Ai to help you, it'll make this easier
-[X] You are injured (You currently have one wound. You'll make a roll at +5 against a DC of 70 You must select one of the below)
--[X] Rest and recover (Cost zero actions, roll one recovery dice)
---[X] The medicine is dark black, it's easy to think you've been poisoned (Costs 30 Funds, one recovery dice will automatically succeed)
-[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 the goal.
--[X] Ask around, start seeing what folks know
-[x] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
--[X] Search for books
---[X] In the local libraries and bookstores
--[X] You Master is willing to teach, request a lesson
---[X] Grail
-[X] A fleeting opportunity
--[X] Take over the Anatoly case, make sure nothing comes up
---[X] Allow Ai to help you, it'll make this easier
"Do you know why you're here?" you asked, pacing steadily back and forth in front of the group. Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Before you stood a small but formidable collection of the more martial members—boxers, karate practitioners, and even a man with no skill but a reputation for ruthlessness. Each had been brought under your banner for a single purpose: to be transformed into proper warriors. You knew the day would come when your forces would need people skilled in wielding weapons, people capable of fighting on the front lines without hesitation. And so, you had begun the process of molding them, shaping them into the instruments of war they needed to become.
"We're going to need people willing to fight," you continued, your tone unwavering and authoritative. "People who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty. All of you have the talent, the raw potential, to be built into proper soldiers." Your gaze moved from one face to the next, each member of your group watching you intently, their expressions a mix of curiosity, apprehension, and eagerness. "The skill is there, the drive is there. Now, it's about turning that into something greater."
[Training the Talented: Breakpoints 60/90]
[Roll: 93+17(Martial)+5(GRAIL) = 115]
Unlike the ordinary people you'd trained in the past, these fighters were different. They had the potential, the raw edges that only needed to be sharpened. Breaking them down completely wasn't necessary—they didn't require the same brutal treatment that others did. Instead, they needed to be taught and inducted into the deeper lore of conflict, the understanding that combat was not just physical but also mental and spiritual. You knew that the most effective fighters were those who understood the intricacies of battle, who knew when to strike and when to hold back. And that was what you were here to impart.
"What is conflict?" you asked, resuming your pacing. Your voice was firm like steel being forged in fire. You didn't wait for them to answer because you knew they didn't have the words yet. "It's natural," you continued, your voice resonating through the room. "That burning feeling you get when you're in a fight, that primal urge to punch someone, to triumph, to win—it's as natural as the world spinning on its axis."
Your words were met with confusion, but you were used to that. Most people didn't think of violence as something natural, something ingrained. But these people, this group—they had it inside them, even if they didn't yet fully understand it. You gestured toward the mad dog, the one whose violent tendencies had been evident from the moment he'd been recruited. He had come from prison, and though you didn't know what had landed him there, it didn't matter. He was exactly the kind of person your Master had always spoken about—the twisted, the angry, the broken. It was your job to beat some discipline into them.
"Hit me," you said, your voice low but commanding. He padded forward, slightly confused, but got into a pathetically sloppy position. You jabbed him sharply between the eyes before he could think twice, sending him stumbling back, his eyes wide with shock.
"I said hit me!" you roared, your voice booming through the room, and this time, he didn't hesitate. He lunged at you, trying to take you down with sheer force. But you were faster, sidestepping him with ease and lifting your leg, sweeping it out to trip him. He fell face-first onto the hard floor, a grunt of pain escaping him. He tried to push himself up, but before he could, you drove your elbow down into his back with force.
He gasped, collapsing back onto the ground, but you weren't done. You pressed a shoe onto his back, keeping him pinned, your weight holding him in place.
"Do you see what I did?" you asked, looking up at the rest of the group. "This is just the beginning of what I can teach you." You lifted your foot, and the man scrambled back to his feet, his movements jerky and tense. Despite the rough treatment, a twisted grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"You've got moves," he said, his voice gravelly, likely from years of drug abuse. "I like it."
You gave him a firm nod in response. Everyone had their vices, but you were determined to purge that weakness from him and from the rest of them. There was no place for such vulnerabilities where you were going.
"Now, gather around," you barked, your voice authoritative once again. They flinched slightly at the command but obeyed, forming a circle around you as you prepared to begin their training in earnest. "Listen closely. This is the path to mastery, but it won't be easy. It will take time—time and discipline. But if you stick with it, I promise you, you will become something more than what you are now. Something greater."
You began running them through the motions, teaching them the basics of movement, strikes, and defense. As you did, you could feel the potential simmering just beneath the surface. These people had what it took to become true warriors, but it wouldn't happen overnight. You were nothing if not patient.
You knew that exacting results took time, effort, and precision. You would hone them, sharpen their skills like a blade until they were ready to be unleashed. You had a job to do, and you were going to perform it to perfection.
You have trained the worthy in Edge. Combatants now have +5 to personal combat in addition to the base +1 that all followers have.
"Afternoon," you said as you stepped into the break room and sat down at the long communal table. You reached into your bag and retrieved your lunch, the smell of it hitting the air as you started to unwrap it. A small part of you was amused at the surprise that flickered across the faces of your coworkers as you took your first bite. You didn't usually take your breaks in the break room—normally, you preferred to work through lunch, but you were always too focused on the tasks at hand. But today was different. You had some things you needed to ask around, meaning you were stuck sitting here, engaging in occasional small talk.
"Afternoon," Fred greeted you, his portly frame leaning back in his chair as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyebrows rose slightly. "You don't normally eat here."
"I figured I'd stop by for once," you said with a shrug, casually taking another bite of your food. "Been working here for a while, but I tend to spend most of my time in the office or out on my own."
"Fair enough," Fred said with a nod, acknowledging the truth in your statement. "So, how's work been treatin' you lately? This month's been pretty peaceful for me."
"Not much. I'm taking over the bar case, a little something to relax with while I heal up," you told him as you raised your shoulder. He winced as he looked at it, chewing and swallowing before he responded.
Fred's brow furrowed as he noticed your movement, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at your shoulder. "What happened there?" he asked, leaning forward with genuine concern. "I mean, you're one of the toughest guys around here. Didn't think I'd hear about you getting chewed up by a dog or something."
It was decently healed, not fully but enough that the pain was mostly a distant memory. You were thankfully your suit covered up the stitches, as if you hadn't told people you doubted they would notice. Except for Charlotte of course, but you had decided to just rip the bandage off and let everybody know you got hurt.
You glanced at your shoulder before looking back at Fred. The injury wasn't as bad as it had been, mostly being healed up, though the discomfort was still there if you moved the wrong way. Luckily, your suit covered the stitches and bruising well enough that no one really noticed unless you told them. Charlotte had been the exception, of course, but you'd already ripped that particular bandage off with her. Best not to keep anyone else in the dark.
"Yeah, wild dog," you said, keeping your tone casual. "I was taking the trash out, and the damn thing jumped me. Managed to scare it off after it got a bite in, though." You watched Fred wince at the thought, sympathy flickering in his eyes. "Doctor checked me out afterward—no rabies, nothing serious. And I'm up to date on my shots, so no need to worry."
"Well, thank god for that," Fred said, visibly relieved. "Dog bites can get nasty real fast. It's a shame to lose one of our best commanders. Hell, if Carol retires, you'd be in the running to replace her."
That caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow at Fred, genuinely surprised. "Really? Didn't realize I was being considered for something like that."
Fred chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "You're one of the best, Michael. On the ground and in the office. Why do you think they pull you into so many meetings? You've got the skills for it. Even if your people skills are a bit… eh, hit or miss sometimes."
"Huh…" You trailed off, chewing slowly as you mulled over his words. You hadn't given much thought to office politics or how you were viewed by the higher-ups. You'd always just focus on doing your job and getting home at the end of the day. But now that Fred mentioned it, you could see how the pieces fit. Your mind wandered briefly, contemplating how this new information could be leveraged down the line. Still, you pushed those thoughts aside, for now, taking another bite of your food.
"Well," you said after a moment, redirecting the conversation, "How about you? How's everything going on your end, Fred?"
Fred grinned, his demeanor shifting back to his usual jovial self. "Oh, can't complain. PR's a tricky business, but it keeps me on my toes. Glenn's been ridin' my ass lately, though." He laughed, clearly just venting for the sake of it.
You smirked. "Better you than me. I'll leave the PR nonsense to you while I handle the real work."
Fred let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "Real work, huh? Yeah, you can have that, mate."
[Asking around: Breakpoints 30/50/70/90]
[Roll: 50+8(Diplomacy)+5(GRAIL) = 64]
The casual conversation continued for a bit longer before the break began winding down. You'd eaten most of your lunch, and Fred had already started packing up his dishes when you decided to bring up the real reason you'd joined them today.
"I'm sorry, but can I ask you something a bit… morbid?" you said, your voice lowering slightly as you leaned forward. Fred raised an eyebrow but didn't seem too bothered by the shift in tone.
"Morbid, huh?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Go on, shoot."
"The Endbringers," you said, watching his reaction closely. Fred's face immediately shifted, his lightheartedness fading as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Endbringers, huh?" He let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair again. "Now that's some real morbid stuff. What brought this on?"
You shrugged. "Just trying to do some research. Thought you might know a thing or two I don't."
Fred shook his head, clearly not thrilled with the topic but willing to indulge you. "Well, they're… strange," he started, his tone more serious now. "They attack like clockwork—every three months, give or take. Behemoth shows up, wrecks havoc, then disappears. Next thing you know, Leviathan's tearing up the coast, or the Simurgh's screwing with people's heads. It's like they've got some kind of rotation going on, a system, almost like they're biding their time."
He paused, packing the last of his things and standing up. "Honestly? I don't know what's worse—the thought that they're smart enough to plan this or that it's all just some sick coincidence."
You nodded as Fred left the break room, mulling over his words. What he'd said made sense, and it lined up with some of the theories you'd already come across. If the Endbringers were acting on some kind of schedule, it suggested a purpose behind their attacks, some kind of strategy. That possibility didn't sit well with you.
As you stood up to head back to your office, you ran a hand through your hair and sighed. You agreed with Fred on one thing—this wasn't a comforting thought. But it was your job to investigate this sort of thing, whether you liked it or not.
You have learned a little more about the Endbringers and their possible abnormalities. No suspicion has been accrued by your questions.
"I'll be taking over this case," you stated firmly as you strode into the meeting room, not bothering with pleasantries. The few agents present blinked at you in surprise as you unceremoniously sat down at the head of the table, already reaching for the files scattered across its surface.
"Well, we've already got people working on this," McLean said, his voice laced with irritation. "We don't need–"
"With all due respect, McLean, you've got the subtlety skills of a bull in a china shop," you interrupted, your tone sharp. His frown deepened, and he leaned forward, bristling with indignation.
"And you're any better?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You can't talk to anyone without threatening them!"
Before you could respond, Director Carol swiped her hand through the air like a blade, cutting the two of you off with a bark. "None of that," she snapped, her voice brooking no argument. "McLean, you've already got enough on your plate. You don't need more. Donovan doesn't have much going on this month," she added with finality, her tone akin to the banging of a gavel.
McLean's scowl deepened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he rose from his seat, gathered his briefcase in a huff, and stormed out of the room without another word. You watched him go, feeling no particular satisfaction in winning this petty exchange. He was damn good at his job, but the two of you just clashed on almost every front.
"Donovan," Carol's voice pulled your attention back to her. She didn't look up from her computer as she typed. "Stop antagonizing McLean. Just because you have differences doesn't mean you can go out of your way to piss him off."
"Yes, ma'am," you muttered, gathering the papers on the table and heading for the door. As much as McLean got under your skin, you had to admit Carol had a point. You couldn't let personal clashes interfere with the job. That wasn't what either of you were here for.
You made your way to your office, settling into the worn leather chair with a sigh as you flipped open the file. The first thing that caught your eye was the root of this whole mess—Anatoly. He'd been moving a large quantity of small sums of money that had tripped up automated systems. From the looks of it, the local police didn't want to deal with the situation, so they'd kicked it over to the PRT, probably in hopes of washing their hands of it.
"Really?" you muttered, rubbing your temple. You'd seen this kind of behavior before. The flowery language in the report couldn't hide the fact that the police were passing the buck on a case they didn't want to handle themselves. Still, you couldn't just toss it back. It had landed on your desk, so now you had to deal with it.
With a resigned sigh, you got to work.
[Handling the case: Breakpoints: 20/70]
[Roll: 67+8(Intrigue)+5(GRAIL) = 80]
"Good morning," you greeted as you stepped out of your car, flanked by a small group of agents. Though technically not yours, they worked directly under your command often enough that they might as well be. As you approached the entrance to the bar where Anatoly worked, you turned to the agents.
"I'll handle the suspect. You can hang around and ask a few questions," you said, then added in a more stern tone, "Remember, he's not officially suspected of any crime. We're here because the police passed this up to us, not because there's anything conclusive yet."
The grumbling that followed your words was expected. Nobody liked cleaning up after a case the police didn't want to handle, especially when it felt like there were more important matters to address. You knew they would do their jobs, though. This was part of the work, even if it was frustrating.
Once inside, you strode up to the counter where Anatoly stood, cleaning a glass. You glanced sideways to ensure your agents weren't causing a scene and noted with a smirk that they'd settled at a table. Ai was already heading toward them with a pen and notepad, and you guessed they'd be having a few drinks soon. Ordinarily, you'd be chewing them out for that, but today, it played to your advantage, so you let it slide for now.
Turning back to Anatoly, you fixed him with a faint frown, though not entirely unfriendly. "I'll need to take a look at your books. We want to make sure there aren't any issues."
Without a word, Anatoly nodded and led you up the narrow staircase toward a smaller room you had seen but not entered before. He handed you a literal book—an old, slightly musty ledger, its pages marked with faded black and red ink.
Raising an eyebrow, you flipped it open and ran your finger down the list of transactions. The math checked out, but the problem was clear: multiple small withdrawals in quick succession had triggered the system's alarms.
"Here's your issue," you said, flipping the book around so Anatoly could see. "These small withdrawals made constantly tripped up the system. It looks suspicious, even if it's innocent."
Anatoly hummed thoughtfully as he looked over the figures. "I see. It was a habit, nothing more. I won't make the same mistake again."
"Good," you replied, clapping him on the back. "Make sure you don't. We don't want the PRT breathing down our necks over something this minor."
The two of you returned downstairs where, as you expected, your agents were laughing and enjoying a few drinks. Normally, that would have been the moment you'd tear into them for being unprofessional, but instead, you stormed over, letting your anger build for show. Despite the fact that they were unintentionally making your job easier, you knew they had to be reprimanded.
"I don't care that this is a small case!" you roared, slamming your hand down on the table hard enough to make the lone patron in the room jump. Ai blinked in surprise but didn't flinch as she casually placed the bill on the table in front of your agents.
"Drinking on the job?" you growled, snatching up the check and glaring at it. One of the troopers scrambled to pull out his wallet and pay, his face pale.
"Get up and get out," you ordered, lowering your voice to a deadly calm. "There's nothing here worth your time. We've got bigger things to worry about."
They all winced as they quickly gathered their things and shuffled out of the bar, cowed by your anger. You watched them go before turning back to Ai, giving her a slight nod of appreciation. She had played her part perfectly, and now you could submit your report without interruption.
As you headed back to your car, you sighed to yourself. Despite their blunders, the drinking had given you enough leverage to close this case cleanly. Now, all that remained was writing them up for drinking on the job. Even though it had helped, it was still a breach of protocol that couldn't be ignored. You didn't tolerate incompetence—even when it worked in your favor.
You have completely cleared Anatoly of suspicion and have convinced the PRT to drop the case.
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Another History: Turn 2 - Results, Part 3
You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves, as you left your house. It was an early Sunday morning, and while many people would be heading to church, that wasn't on your agenda today. Your grandmother would have had your hide for skipping out on worship, but she wasn't around anymore. Besides, you'd been having your doubts lately—whispers of discontent about the old faith's doctrines kept creeping in. Connections that were uncomfortable to make, to say lightly. Shaking your head, you sighed, flipping on the blinker as you turned right, leaving your quiet neighborhood behind.
You were going to meet with the rest of the cult today, and you couldn't help but be a little nervous. However, you reached forward and turned the radio on, letting the music flow through the car as you hummed to the songs.
The drive was pleasant, and the roads were relatively clear, so you made good time. You were happy that you had cleared up the bar case without any issues. In fact you could already see that people were working to refurbish and tune up the place. You strode inside and walked up to the counter, where Anatoly was wiping down the counter.
"I see you're getting some new things put in," you remarked, gesturing to the workers as they moved equipment around.
"Yes, the Master ordered a new room," Anatoly replied, his smile faltering slightly. He shuddered, "She wasn't too happy about the noise, though."
You sucked in a breath through your teeth, wincing. "She'll be back soon?"
"Yes, they will be gone in the next ten minutes or so. She will likely return shortly after," he replied.
Just as the words left his mouth, the door burst open with a loud bang, and Jane strolled in, a bottle of liquor dangling from her hand. "Morning everyone!" she chirped, her voice far too loud for the quiet atmosphere. She dropped the bottle onto the counter with a faint clink, letting go as she sat on one of the stools.
Anatoly raised a single eyebrow, his expression flat. "I don't think the Master would appreciate that," he said, his voice dry as usual.
Jane rolled her eyes, giving him a playful smack on the shoulder. "She hates fun. This is just a little liquid fortitude to get through the meeting," she replied, crooning as she reached for the neck of the bottle.
Before her fingers could close around it, Anatoly snatched the bottle out of her grasp and tucked it behind the counter. "After the meeting," he amended, ignoring Jane's exaggerated pout.
Before the situation could escalate, Arch stumbled in, a disorganized pile of papers clutched under his arm. He looked flustered as he pushed his glasses up his nose with a knuckle. "Uh, excuse me, could you point me toward the library? I've been stuffing all these manuscripts into your office," he mumbled, nodding awkwardly toward Anatoly.
"Just put them in my office for now. I'll deal with them later," Anatoly replied with a sigh, watching as Arch hurried upstairs, nearly tripping over his own feet. You followed the man's hasty retreat with a stony expression before turning back to the counter and shaking your head.
"Greetings," a soft voice murmured from behind, making everyone except Anatoly jump. Ai had silently emerged from the storage room, her presence ghostlike as always.
"God, Ai, you've got to stop sneaking up on people like that!" Jane exclaimed, half-laughing as she grabbed Ai's wrist and pulled her toward the counter. "Come on, help me convince Anatoly to give us back the wine."
"After," Ai whispered, her tone as soft as always. Despite Jane's best efforts, Ai remained unmoved, and Jane could only grumble in defeat.
A moment later, Arch came back down the stairs, looking as disheveled as ever. You glanced at the group before speaking. "How about some water?" you suggested, nodding toward Anatoly. "Something simple."
Jane groaned, though a hint of a smile played on her lips. "Water? Really?" she whined, but she didn't protest further as Anatoly poured drinks for everyone.
Arch blinked, clearly confused, as a cup was thrust into his hands. "Water? What for?"
Ai, as sharp as ever, replied with a deadpan expression. "Drinking."
You smirked at the dry exchange, lifting your glass in a silent toast. "To achieving our goals," you said, cutting through the momentary banter. Jane opened her mouth, but you raised your glass higher, silencing her. "Drink up." The clink of glasses filled the room, and water was downed in unison.
Though you didn't know each of them too well yet, you all belonged to the inner circle, and a small celebration seemed appropriate. You savored the brief moment of camaraderie before reality would come crashing back. There was still the matter of meeting with the Master—never a task you looked forward to.
Almost as if on cue, the door swung open once again, but this time, it wasn't Jane's cheerful face that greeted you. A young girl, her body gaunt and wrapped in tattered clothes, strode in, hatred and agony trailing behind her. The workers had left by now, and it was just the five of you, plus the Master. She didn't say a word as she walked past, her ragged dress brushing against the floor as if her emaciated form didn't weigh her down at all.
"Follow," she commanded her voice a low growl that sent goosebumps prickling down your neck. You exchanged wary glances with the others before rising to your feet and falling in line behind her.
The sanctum's door was open when you arrived, the faint hum of malice sending a shiver up your spine as you entered. There was no time for pleasantries. The Master cut straight to business, her burning eyes fixating on each of you in turn.
"Report," she commanded, her voice sharp as a blade.
Arch, still frazzled, fumbled with his words. "I, uh, I've gathered manuscripts in the office, and I'll continue searching for more," he stammered, exhaling in relief as her gaze slid off him.
"Good," she replied, her attention snapping to Jane, who straightened under the pressure.
"I've got new recruits. We should see them helping out soon," Jane said, her usual carefree demeanor slightly cracked under the Master's scrutiny.
The Master's eyes moved next to Anatoly. "We had some delays, but Michael helped us push through," he began, his voice steady despite the weight of the Master's glare. "The space for the rituals will be ready soon."
"Acceptable," she muttered, and though her tone was curt, the tension in the air eased slightly. There had been a fear of failure, but it seemed that whatever emotions were bundled up inside her body weren't going to be unleashed on Anatoly.
"Ai?" she prompted, her voice cutting like a whip.
"The Mayor's secretary and a Protectorate commander have agreed to cooperate," Ai answered softly, her quiet demeanor unaffected by the Master's intensity.
Finally, her gaze fell upon you. Your heart skipped a beat as the Master's burning eyes bored into yours.
You were ever so thankful that you had thought up just what you would say.
You must pick one from each section. If you pick nothing to report you will not mention it. Vote by Plan
[] On the Endbringers
-[] You didn't manage to learn anything
-[] You learned that they react strangely, almost as if they are picking and choosing what attacks to react to
-[] You have learned that they seem to plan, or have some sort of intelligence behind their attacks
-[] You learned that they react strangely, almost as if they are picking and choosing what attacks to react to. In addition they seem to plan, or have some sort of intelligence behind their attacks (This is the full truth for this report)
[] On the minions you've trained
-[] You have nothing to report
-[] You've trained the broad base in simple combat
-[] You've inducted a handful into Edge
[] On the Mansus
-[] You have nothing to report
-[] Something lurks in the Woods, and is hostile
-[] Something lurks in the Woods, it is hostile and the Master must to explain what it is
[] On your job
-[] You have nothing to report
-[] You're in the running for Director, with some aid you could possibly claim that position
[] On your aid
-[] You have nothing to report
-[] You helped clean up Anatoly's mess, make sure they know that you stepped in and how crucial your role was
[] Anything else? (Write in, anything else you wish to share with the Master and the other inner circle members)
You were going to meet with the rest of the cult today, and you couldn't help but be a little nervous. However, you reached forward and turned the radio on, letting the music flow through the car as you hummed to the songs.
The drive was pleasant, and the roads were relatively clear, so you made good time. You were happy that you had cleared up the bar case without any issues. In fact you could already see that people were working to refurbish and tune up the place. You strode inside and walked up to the counter, where Anatoly was wiping down the counter.
"I see you're getting some new things put in," you remarked, gesturing to the workers as they moved equipment around.
"Yes, the Master ordered a new room," Anatoly replied, his smile faltering slightly. He shuddered, "She wasn't too happy about the noise, though."
You sucked in a breath through your teeth, wincing. "She'll be back soon?"
"Yes, they will be gone in the next ten minutes or so. She will likely return shortly after," he replied.
Just as the words left his mouth, the door burst open with a loud bang, and Jane strolled in, a bottle of liquor dangling from her hand. "Morning everyone!" she chirped, her voice far too loud for the quiet atmosphere. She dropped the bottle onto the counter with a faint clink, letting go as she sat on one of the stools.
Anatoly raised a single eyebrow, his expression flat. "I don't think the Master would appreciate that," he said, his voice dry as usual.
Jane rolled her eyes, giving him a playful smack on the shoulder. "She hates fun. This is just a little liquid fortitude to get through the meeting," she replied, crooning as she reached for the neck of the bottle.
Before her fingers could close around it, Anatoly snatched the bottle out of her grasp and tucked it behind the counter. "After the meeting," he amended, ignoring Jane's exaggerated pout.
Before the situation could escalate, Arch stumbled in, a disorganized pile of papers clutched under his arm. He looked flustered as he pushed his glasses up his nose with a knuckle. "Uh, excuse me, could you point me toward the library? I've been stuffing all these manuscripts into your office," he mumbled, nodding awkwardly toward Anatoly.
"Just put them in my office for now. I'll deal with them later," Anatoly replied with a sigh, watching as Arch hurried upstairs, nearly tripping over his own feet. You followed the man's hasty retreat with a stony expression before turning back to the counter and shaking your head.
"Greetings," a soft voice murmured from behind, making everyone except Anatoly jump. Ai had silently emerged from the storage room, her presence ghostlike as always.
"God, Ai, you've got to stop sneaking up on people like that!" Jane exclaimed, half-laughing as she grabbed Ai's wrist and pulled her toward the counter. "Come on, help me convince Anatoly to give us back the wine."
"After," Ai whispered, her tone as soft as always. Despite Jane's best efforts, Ai remained unmoved, and Jane could only grumble in defeat.
A moment later, Arch came back down the stairs, looking as disheveled as ever. You glanced at the group before speaking. "How about some water?" you suggested, nodding toward Anatoly. "Something simple."
Jane groaned, though a hint of a smile played on her lips. "Water? Really?" she whined, but she didn't protest further as Anatoly poured drinks for everyone.
Arch blinked, clearly confused, as a cup was thrust into his hands. "Water? What for?"
Ai, as sharp as ever, replied with a deadpan expression. "Drinking."
You smirked at the dry exchange, lifting your glass in a silent toast. "To achieving our goals," you said, cutting through the momentary banter. Jane opened her mouth, but you raised your glass higher, silencing her. "Drink up." The clink of glasses filled the room, and water was downed in unison.
Though you didn't know each of them too well yet, you all belonged to the inner circle, and a small celebration seemed appropriate. You savored the brief moment of camaraderie before reality would come crashing back. There was still the matter of meeting with the Master—never a task you looked forward to.
Almost as if on cue, the door swung open once again, but this time, it wasn't Jane's cheerful face that greeted you. A young girl, her body gaunt and wrapped in tattered clothes, strode in, hatred and agony trailing behind her. The workers had left by now, and it was just the five of you, plus the Master. She didn't say a word as she walked past, her ragged dress brushing against the floor as if her emaciated form didn't weigh her down at all.
"Follow," she commanded her voice a low growl that sent goosebumps prickling down your neck. You exchanged wary glances with the others before rising to your feet and falling in line behind her.
The sanctum's door was open when you arrived, the faint hum of malice sending a shiver up your spine as you entered. There was no time for pleasantries. The Master cut straight to business, her burning eyes fixating on each of you in turn.
"Report," she commanded, her voice sharp as a blade.
Arch, still frazzled, fumbled with his words. "I, uh, I've gathered manuscripts in the office, and I'll continue searching for more," he stammered, exhaling in relief as her gaze slid off him.
"Good," she replied, her attention snapping to Jane, who straightened under the pressure.
"I've got new recruits. We should see them helping out soon," Jane said, her usual carefree demeanor slightly cracked under the Master's scrutiny.
The Master's eyes moved next to Anatoly. "We had some delays, but Michael helped us push through," he began, his voice steady despite the weight of the Master's glare. "The space for the rituals will be ready soon."
"Acceptable," she muttered, and though her tone was curt, the tension in the air eased slightly. There had been a fear of failure, but it seemed that whatever emotions were bundled up inside her body weren't going to be unleashed on Anatoly.
"Ai?" she prompted, her voice cutting like a whip.
"The Mayor's secretary and a Protectorate commander have agreed to cooperate," Ai answered softly, her quiet demeanor unaffected by the Master's intensity.
Finally, her gaze fell upon you. Your heart skipped a beat as the Master's burning eyes bored into yours.
You were ever so thankful that you had thought up just what you would say.
You must pick one from each section. If you pick nothing to report you will not mention it. Vote by Plan
[] On the Endbringers
-[] You didn't manage to learn anything
-[] You learned that they react strangely, almost as if they are picking and choosing what attacks to react to
-[] You have learned that they seem to plan, or have some sort of intelligence behind their attacks
-[] You learned that they react strangely, almost as if they are picking and choosing what attacks to react to. In addition they seem to plan, or have some sort of intelligence behind their attacks (This is the full truth for this report)
[] On the minions you've trained
-[] You have nothing to report
-[] You've trained the broad base in simple combat
-[] You've inducted a handful into Edge
[] On the Mansus
-[] You have nothing to report
-[] Something lurks in the Woods, and is hostile
-[] Something lurks in the Woods, it is hostile and the Master must to explain what it is
[] On your job
-[] You have nothing to report
-[] You're in the running for Director, with some aid you could possibly claim that position
[] On your aid
-[] You have nothing to report
-[] You helped clean up Anatoly's mess, make sure they know that you stepped in and how crucial your role was
[] Anything else? (Write in, anything else you wish to share with the Master and the other inner circle members)
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