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

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We didn't use our actions on the actual task, finding out more about the Endbringers, how their durability works more precisely?

I know not dying is important, but I consider our Master the most likely source of our death, if we bring her so little for our given task, only the tidbit that time-distortion can work.
 
Artemis1992 said:
We didn't use our actions on the actual task, finding out more about the Endbringers, how their durability works more precisely?

I know not dying is important, but I consider our Master the most likely source of our death, if we bring her so little for our given task, only the tidbit that time-distortion can work.
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We have already learned this information, it is necessary to use space-time attacks. Witherbrine26 confirmed that this information would be sufficient to complete the Master's assignment.
 
Makes me wonder if the Master will try to kill the Endbringers with Knock/Secret Histories, since those are the lores that fit the concept of space-time the most.
 
To be fair, very high levels of Edge could probably also do the trick as it's more conceptual damage rather than anything grounded in physics.
 
From another angle, the Forge Maketh and Unmaketh, this is not limited to inanimate things.

And Winter of course, Ends.

Knock could Open a way to the core at least,if we find out about that.

The other Lores would work more on mental areas than physicals. Which might do it, after all even Scion is not immune to mental damage, as seen in the canon timeline.

I'd think all the Lores have at least some chance to finish an arbitrarily strong opponent, the trick is more applying it the right way, surviving the moments you need to attack an Endbringer at all and of course getting enough power/knowledge in a Lore at all.
 
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Another History: Turn 8 - Results, Part 1
  • Sidestory
    • [X] Plan She Will Follow Up V2
    -[X] You are injured (You currently have three wounds. You'll make a roll at +5 against a DC of 70. You must select one of the below)
    --[X] Take a break here and there (Costs one action, roll two recovery dice. 0/-15)
    ---[X] A touch here and there of something a bit stronger (Costs 60 Funds, two recovery dice will automatically succeed)
    -[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
    --[X] You've got sick days, use them (Gain two extra actions, will be noticed by your direct superior, although the full extent is unknown. Your work is less likely to notice your wounds)
    -[X] On your Foe, and the danger she wields
    --[X] Keep an eye open and stay on guard (This will make it harder for Alicja to assault, spy on you, etc)
    --[X] Do something about her, talk to her, trick her, hurt her (Fortify our home)
    --[X] Do something about her, talk to her, trick her, hurt her (Find some Poisons to use against her and hers)
    -[X] On furthering the cause.
    --[X] Train the fodder, get them up to snuff
    -[X] On matters outside the cult.
    --[X] Hire some muscle (Will cost a variable amount of funds)
    -[X] On Rites, Rituals and the things inbetween
    --[X] You'll cast The Attention of the Laws (Edge)

    You're a respectable man now—someone technically on the straight and narrow. No warrants out for your arrest, no government looking for you, and on paper, you weren't a criminal. It was a far cry from how things used to be, but despite all that, this bar felt familiar. You'd been in places like it before, many years ago and far across the sea, back when things were simpler and more dangerous.

    The place was seedy, dimly lit, and reeked of stale beer and smoke. It was nothing like Anatoly's bar, where everything was kept meticulously clean and in order. Anatoly ran a tight ship—spills were cleaned the moment they hit the floor, glasses polished to a shine, and even the riffraff knew better than to make a mess. Here, though, it was different. The floor was sticky in places, grimy in others, and you had to watch where you stepped. The crowd was rougher, too, more unpredictable, the kind of people who would throw a punch before they finished their drink if you looked at them the wrong way.

    You made your way to the bar, navigating the sticky patches on the floor with a grimace. Drinking wasn't in the cards for you tonight. You were still on the mend, and mixing your meds with too much alcohol wasn't an option if you wanted to stay conscious.

    "Something light," you told the bartender, glancing around the room as you spoke. You weren't a heavy drinker by nature, but in a place like this, not drinking at all would raise questions. You took the glass when it came, a weak beer that wouldn't do much to your system. You made sure to sip it slowly, alternating with water to stay clear-headed. You had work to do.

    The place was filled with potential hires, but you had to be careful. Not everyone here was worth your time or money, and some of them would sooner knife you than work for you if things went south. You scanned the crowd, looking for muscle, someone capable enough to help track down Alicja and not flinch at a little danger.

    [Hiring Muscle DC: 40/60/80/100]

    [Roll: 63+9(Diplomacy)+10(GRAIL) = 82]

    Your eyes landed on a man sitting in the corner, a hulking figure built like a brick shithouse. He towered over the others, easily seven feet tall, his broad frame clad in dark clothes that strained against his muscles. A simple black mask covered most of his face, but the red garb he wore over it marked him as a cape. A rogue one, from the looks of it. His scowl was deep, a permanent fixture that warned anyone nearby to keep their distance. He wasn't in the mood for talk, and from the tension in his body, he didn't want to be approached.

    He wasn't your first choice. He'd be expensive, and capes could be unpredictable, even the more disciplined ones. Besides, you weren't looking for a solo operator—you needed a team.

    Your attention shifted to the rest of the room. Small groups of people clustered around tables, most of them the kind who'd take your money but wouldn't stick around when things got tough. You could pay them for odd jobs, maybe have them fetch you books or follow a few leads on Alicja, but they wouldn't be trustworthy enough for the heavy lifting. You noticed how they kept to their own little groups, each one separate from the others, and you knew immediately that hiring one meant the rest would refuse. These weren't men of high moral standing, but they had their own petty rivalries, and none of them would work together without causing problems.

    It was almost admirable, in a way. Despite being little more than thugs, they had their own unspoken rules and alliances, as if they understood on some basic level that fighting amongst themselves would only make things worse.

    In the far corner, though, you saw something more promising. A group of three men, their plain clothes did not entirely hide the fact that they were wearing body armor underneath. Their posture was different, too—more disciplined, more focused. These were professionals, not amateurs. Mercenaries, by the look of them. They were here for business, and from the gear they carried, they were ready for a fight. No doubt they came with a price tag to match.

    You pushed yourself to your feet, grabbing your cane as you were careful to effect a bit of drunkenness as you made your way over. You weren't drunk—not even close—but it never hurt to seem a little less threatening when you were dealing with men like this. The group's leader, a man with close-cropped brown hair and piercing blue eyes, was sitting in the middle. He looked up as you approached, raising an eyebrow as if sizing you up.

    "Good evening, gentlemen," you said with a faint smile, the same smile you'd used countless times before when hiring muscle. It was a practiced expression, one that hinted at tight orders but also fat paychecks. The leader's eyebrow rose a little higher, intrigued.

    "Looking to hire?" he asked, his voice steady as he set down his drink with a quiet clink against the table.

    "Indeed," you replied smoothly, "What's your contract like?"

    The first rule of dealing with mercenaries was understanding their contract. Everything else could come later.

    "Half payment up front, half at the end," he explained. "We work in three-month periods. If one of us is heavily wounded, they forfeit the end payment and leave the contract."

    It was a reasonable setup, standard fare for professionals like this. There was, of course, the unspoken clause—if you sent them on a suicide mission, the contract was null and void. Mercenaries weren't dumb. They knew when they were being played, and no amount of money could buy back trust once it was broken. Still, the terms were fair, and they were exactly what you needed.

    The only question left was how much you were willing to spend.

    Your options, Current Funds: 574

    Simple Muscle, one costs 20 Funds/month, and you can dismiss them at any time as a Free Action
    [] Hire muscle (Gain the services of 3 Health, +9 Personal Combat Confidante. They are not as loyal as normal Confidante, and if sufficiently injured, bribed, or conceived, they may leave you or even betray you.)
    -[] How many? (You can hire up to six)

    Competent Mercenaries, one costs 60 Funds up front and 60 Funds after three months, at which point you will have the option to renew your contract.
    [] Hire mercenaries (Gain the services of 4 Health, +17 Personal Combat Confidante. Their actions are limited to going on Expeditions or Guarding you. However, unless you fail to pay them or they are faced with unreasonable expectations, they will not leave.)
    -[] How many? (You can hire up to three)

    You have found a place where people go to have a drink and offer up their services. You noticed a cape, although decided against approaching him. Perhaps that might change in the future.


    Poison was a potent tool—one you had employed countless times before, often with precision and devastating effect. It was a silent weapon, one that did its work quietly, leaving no trail if used properly. But things were different now. You weren't in Poland anymore, and the familiar networks you used to rely on were far behind you. There was no one you could call up for a quick favor, no familiar faces to lean on when you needed certain... supplies. It was a price you had paid when you left, a necessary sacrifice for the freedom and anonymity your new life afforded you.

    Still, old habits died hard, and your instincts hadn't dulled with time. If anything, they were sharper. You knew how to find what you needed, how to sniff out the places and people that dealt in the shadows. Finding poison wasn't exactly an ordinary shopping trip, but for someone like you, it was simply a matter of knowing where to look.

    [Finding Poison DC: 50/60/80/90]

    [Roll: 70+8(Intrigue)+1(SECRET HISTORIES) = 79]

    It didn't take long. You spotted the shop out of the corner of your eye, tucked away in a quieter part of town, its plain exterior giving little away. It was called Pierre's Pawnshop, the kind of place that might as well have had a sign out front reading "We Sell Illegal Things." It had that unmistakable feel, the sort of place where the merchandise behind the counter wasn't nearly as important as what was kept in the back room. Your instincts, honed over years of experience, tingled slightly as you approached, and you felt that familiar buzz at the edge of your awareness. It wasn't magic—at least, not the kind you could easily identify—but it was something. The shop felt off in a way that made you curious.

    Your cane tapped lightly against the sidewalk as you made your way toward the entrance, and the stiffness in your step was a reminder of your injuries. You weren't fully healed, not yet, but you could walk, and that was enough. You pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling softly, and immediately, a voice greeted you with an almost overwhelming enthusiasm.

    "Good afternoon, sir!" A man's voice rang out as the sound of shuffling feet followed. A darker-skinned man, dressed in a worn but well-kept suit, appeared from behind the counter and grasped your hand in an overly friendly manner. His handshake was firm but a bit too eager, his words tumbling out at the rapid pace of a street vendor trying to make a quick sale.

    "What can I get for you? Guns, watches, maybe a nice antique lamp? I even have a stoplight if that's something you fancy!" His voice was fast, the kind of cadence that would make any auctioneer jealous. As he spoke, he gestured around the shop, offering to show you everything from old coins to broken electronics, clearly ready to rattle off every item in his inventory if it meant making a sale.

    You held up a hand, your voice calm and quiet as you cut through his rapid-fire sales pitch. "None of that," you said softly but firmly. "I'm looking for something a bit more specific. Incapacitants, something to... disable someone without causing too much damage."

    At this, Pierre's demeanor shifted ever so slightly. His smile didn't falter, but there was a subtle change in his eyes, a flicker of understanding. He nodded, still moving with the same practiced ease, but now his steps had a purpose. "Ah, of course, of course," he replied, lowering his voice to match yours. "The good stuff, eh? I can't show you everything right off the bat, not without a little... formality first. You understand." He winked as he said this, the kind of wink that told you there were layers to this transaction—layers that would be peeled back once you demonstrated you were serious.

    He moved behind the counter, pulling out a small, tightly bound roll of cloth. With a flourish, he unwrapped it, revealing a series of small vials, each filled with various liquids. Some were clear, others murky or tinged with color. They were neatly arranged, and though none of them looked particularly remarkable, you could tell by the way Pierre presented them that they were not ordinary wares.

    Your fingers brushed over the vials as you examined them, each one offering a different kind of promise. There was nothing here that compared to the high-end toxins you'd used in the past, back when you had access to the best of the best. But that was a high bar to clear, and this selection would do for now. Pierre watched you carefully, his eyes sharp and calculating, waiting for your decision. He knew the game as well as you did—negotiations like these were always a dance, a careful balance of trust and leverage.

    You could feel the weight of his gaze as you deliberated. None of the poisons here would kill outright—not unless you used a very heavy dose—but they would incapacitate. Some would cause paralysis, others drowsiness, and a few would leave the victim disoriented and unable to fight back. It was a decent collection, enough to get the job done if you played your cards right.

    "So," Pierre said, his voice low and smooth, "what catches your eye?"

    The real question, of course, was how much you were willing to invest in this particular endeavor. Each vial came with its own price, and you had to decide how much you were willing to spend to ensure the right outcome.

    Your options (Each dose is good for a single use)

    Simple Toxins: Raises the DC to heal wounds by 10, costs 20 Funds/dose
    [] Do you buy any, and if so, how many?

    Simple Paralytics: Inflicts a -10 combat debuff once a wound has been dealt, costs 30 Funds/dose
    [] Do you buy any, and if so, how many?

    Simple Venom: Forces a DC 50 check at the end of the next Turn and, on failure, inflicts a wound, costs 40 Funds/dose
    [] Do you buy any, and if so, how many?

    Potent Toxins: Raises the DC to heal wounds by 20, costs 40 Funds/dose
    [] Do you buy any, and if so, how many?

    Potent Paralytics: Inflicts a -20 combat debuff once a wound has been dealt, costs 60 Funds/dose
    [] Do you buy any, and if so, how many?

    You've found a man named Pierre offering up substances that are strange and suspicious, however he refused to show you any of his more potent stock. Although he has made a few unsubtle hints about scratching his back and he'll scratch yours…

    In addition, you're now acquaintances with Pierre!

    Please combine both poison buying and muscle hiring into a single plan. You will have to pay all costs upfront unless specified otherwise. Current Funds: 574
     
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  • Sidestory
    • We were literally one point short!

    It's funny that if we didn't have the grail, then the same would have happened with the first test.

    [X] Plan: The best weapon for professionals
    -[X] Hire mercenaries (Gain the services of 4 Health, +17 Personal Combat Confidante. Their actions are limited to going on Expeditions or Guarding you. However, unless you fail to pay them or they are faced with unreasonable expectations, they will not leave.)
    --[X] 3 mercenaries
    -[X] Potent Paralytics
    --[X] 4 servings of poison

    Let not only us but also each mercenary receive one portion of poison. Even if it goes to the minions, it doesn't matter if at least one can hurt Alicja, it will be worth it.
     
    Hm, part of me's interested in the simple venom since if we manage to hurt her once there's a good chance she just falls dead the turn after, could even proc were she to escape.
     
    Witherbrine26 said:
    Yes it does, so the first wound with Simple Paralytics would apply -10, the second -20 and so on
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Fantastic, and does the poison last until first wound, for the first round, or one entire combat encounter?

    [X] Plan: The best weapon for professionals

    Another benefit to being in a cult, our eldritch expenses are much lower since we're not buying books and miscellaneous artifacts.
     
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